Some Like It Hotter. Isabel Sharpe

letting him know would help him understand that he and Chris were not destined to be together forever.

      Whereas he and Eva...

      At least for a month.

      “Well, crap.” He stared forlornly at the flowers, a stunning and almost laughably huge bouquet of pink roses, burgundy and white alstroemeria, white tulips, freesia and God knew what else.

      “You could take them back to the shop. Or leave them here.” Eva gestured around. “A little color and life wouldn’t hurt.”

      “Oh.” He stared as if he’d forgotten her. “Yeah, okay.”

      “Thank you.” She took the vase into her arms as if she were cradling a baby and beamed at him. “So what are you doing tonight, Ames?”

      As she expected, he looked startled, glanced at his watch, face reddening slightly. “I’m due at... I’m... I have...”

      “Wow. That sounds fabulous.”

      He laughed in surprise.

      “I just arrived today from California, so I’m going to take it easy tonight.” She put the vase on the counter over the pastry. “Maybe order takeout, because I hear you can get anything delivered in this city.”

      “True.”

      She threw him a flirty look over her shoulder. “Even you?”

      “Even me what?”

      “If I was home bored and wanted company, could I order you for delivery?”

      “I don’t...” He took a step back. “That is...”

      Eva waved dismissively and moved the vase farther down the counter. “Don’t worry, I was only flirting. Cup of coffee on the house?”

      “Uh.” He laughed uncertainly. “Actually, I’m—”

      “Jinx.” She inclined her head toward the barista. “Give this man whatever he wants.”

      “Okay.” Jinx stared coolly at Ames. “What’ll it be?”

      “Hmm?” Ames was lost in poking at his cell again. “Uh...a red eye. Room at the top. To go.”

      Eva took half a step closer to him. “We call those hammerheads in California.”

      “Really?”

      “Really.” She grinned at him. He was so adorable and so innocently unaware of the nights of hot sex that lay in store for him over the next month—and possibly forever. “And in the upper Midwest, where I grew up, it’s called a depth charge.”

      “Okay.”

      Eva folded her arms across her chest. “So what do you do in this fabulous city, Ames?”

      He muttered something, jabbing away at the little letters.

      “Ames.” Eva put her hand on his arm and pushed gently down.

      “Huh?” He looked up at her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

      “I asked what you do in New York.”

      “I’m sales manager for Boyce Wines, a distributor based here in New York. We import from exclusive small family vineyards in Italy and France.”

      “Cool job. So you know a ton about wine.”

      “I guess.” He shrugged and put his cell in his pocket, staring at her curiously. “Do you?”

      “Just coffee.” She took another step toward him, caught a whiff of his fresh masculine aftershave. “How did you get into that?”

      “Dad owns a wine shop.”

      “Yeah? Where?”

      “New Jersey.” He edged toward the pickup area of the counter. “Are you this nosy with all your customers?”

      “Nosy?” She sent him an odd look. “In California we call this conversation. They don’t do that here?”

      “Sorry.” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Been a tough day. So, California, huh?”

      “Central Coast.” She tipped her head, smiling alluringly. “Good wine country.”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Red eye. Room at the top.” Jinx plunked the container on the counter.

      “Sorry about your tough day.” Eva folded her arms. “Want to talk about it?”

      “I’m sure you have business to do.” He reached for the cup.

      “If I did, would I be offering to talk to you?”

      “Ah.” Ames rolled his eyes, smiling. “You are Chris’s sister, after all. Or at least you have her sharp reflexes.”

      “Thank you.” Eva frowned at the flowers, beautiful but oddly old-fashioned on the severe counter, as if the only flowers appropriate to the space would be square. “Have you ever meditated?”

      “Uh. No. Listen, it was nice to—”

      “It’s great on a stressful day. You should totally try it.”

      “Mmm, not interested. Thanks.”

      “Doesn’t hurt to try.” She touched a spot on his forehead just above his brows, where Buddhists believed the third eye existed. He froze in horror, staring up at her finger, which made him sort of cross-eyed, but still incredibly sexy. Eva willed him to look at her, which he did, proving they had a deep connection. Or that he felt like looking at her just then. Their eyes held—both sets that time—and the adrenaline thrill was so strong she could barely get herself to continue. “It’s amazing how calm and peaceful you can feel, while at the same time energized and clear. It’s so different from how we usually operate, rushing around coping with external stuff and worries, ignoring our instincts.”

      He blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

      “And...” She lowered her voice, drew her finger down the bridge of his very fine nose. “Meditating is also a very sensuous experience. You hear and see and feel and taste and touch the world in a whole new way when your mind is at peace.”

      The very delicious Ames swallowed audibly, then took a sudden step back, glancing at his watch. “Listen, thanks for the coffee. I really need to go.”

      “Sure, sure. You don’t want to be late for your whatever.” Somehow she kept her lips from twitching. “It was nice meeting you.”

      “Yeah. Same here.” He turned and headed for the door.

      “Ames!”

      He turned reluctantly back, looking annoyed. “What?”

      Eva pointed to the milk, sugar and stir station. “Room in your cup?”

      “Oh. Right.” He strode over and splashed milk into his coffee, jammed on a lid and rushed out of the shop.

      She watched him go, hugging her hoodie around herself, a smile playing on her lips. What an amazing day this had turned out to be. She’d met her next true love, Ames Cooke, who didn’t seem to realize they were meant to be.

      The poor guy wasn’t going to know what hit him.

       2

      CHRIS WALKED DOWN the hill from Eva’s house, turned left onto La Playa Avenue and walked about fifty feet to Slow Pour. That was it! No trudging down windy cement sidewalks in the cold, with grit blowing into her eyes, no waiting for the subway in a pee-smelling tunnel, no swaying among sullen, silent strangers, then waiting in another tunnel for another train among more strangers...

      In Carmia she could stroll to work in five minutes without a coat, and