Nacho Figueras Presents Read Online Free PDF Page A

was the delivery boy.
    She waited earnestly for his answer.
    He smiled, mischievous. “Oh, well, normally it would be fine, but you know, for around here…” He shrugged.
    She flushed and added a ten-dollar bill to the five and offered it to him. He grinned and took the money from her.
    A tingling bolt of electricity passed through his body as his fingers brushed hers.
    Her eyes widened. She obviously felt it, too. He gazed at her for a moment—noticing the tight curves of her body beneath the simple jeans and tank top she was wearing, her shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. Suddenly, he felt a little less playful.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t catch your name.”
    She frowned. “I didn’t give it.”
    He took a step toward her. She didn’t move. He smelled something sweet and dark, like caramel. He wondered if it was her or the flowers. “Maybe you should,” he said.
    She looked at him, her cheeks flushing an even deeper pink. “I—I don’t think so.”
    She took a step back.
    “Wait—” he said.
    But she had already shut the door in his face.

Chapter Six
    O h my God , thought Kat as she dropped the flowers on the table and leaned back against the wall, feeling her heart beat a tattoo against her chest. What the hell was that ?
    She shook her head, trying to get ahold of herself. She had been in Hollywood for ten years. She’d met George Clooney, Denzel Washington, Brad Pitt, Ryan frigging Gosling, and yet she would swear on the family Bible that she had never seen a more attractive man than the one who had just been standing there on her front porch, holding a monster bouquet of flowers and looking for all the world like he wanted to eat her alive.
    “And I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy every single minute of it,” she muttered to herself.
    The thick, wavy hair, the pale green eyes, the lightning flash of a smile, the broad shoulders, and the luscious golden skin with just enough of a five o’clock shadow to make her wonder what he’d been doing last night that left him with so little time to shave this morning…It was as if all her daydreaming about impossible teen love and romance had conjured up this vision and handed it over—along with the slightest tantalizing hint of a mysterious accent—lock, stock, and barrel, right to her front door.
    And a delivery guy, no less, she thought. Slap a mustache on the man and it was like a bad porn film.
    God, she had totally lost her cool. Why hadn’t she told him her name? Why had she slammed the door in his face? It was like she was a gawky teen all over again, giggling and blushing every time a boy even looked her way.
    She looked at the flowers on the table. Of course. That was it. A second impression. She would find an excuse to go to the florist where he worked, just casually bump into him as she perused the roses and daisies…
    She imagined the surprised look on his face when he saw her, the knowing way he would smile at her. Maybe she’d dress up just the tiniest bit—a little skirt with a tee. That black Chanel skirt that showed off her legs so well, and that perfect, soft faded green tee she’d found in the boutique on Melrose, the one that fit her just so and made her eyes look more blue than gray…
    She put the flowers back down. “No. No. No. No. Just stop,” she said aloud. Jesus. This was ridiculous. What was she thinking? She was going to date a delivery guy? She was a grown woman plotting like a girl desperate for a date to the prom. She’d seen this guy once. One time. She knew nothing about him except that he delivered flowers for a living and he was scorchingly hot. She was here to help her parents. To clear her head. To get back to her work. The very last thing she needed was some out-of-control crush—or worse yet, another inappropriate romance—to distract her from her tasks.
    She unceremoniously dumped the flowers into a pink plastic pitcher that usually held Kool-Aid and plunked it next to the roses on the