Page 57 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
What was I supposed to say after that? Instead of coming up with something intelligent to say, I giggled like an idiot and waited for the doors to open.
Once the doors opened, I looked back up at Phillip, smiled cordially, and took off toward the subway.
I heard his steps follow behind me, causing me to sweat instantly. I didn’t like people I barely knew following me. Visions of him pulling me into a dark alley and having his way with me crossed my mind. I went to reach for my phone when I realized I’d left it in my office.And there’s no way I’m going up to my desk and possibly face that evil cat.
“Hey,” Phillip called from behind me.
“Please don’t steal me.” I cringed and put my hands up. “I won’t be kind if thrown into sex trafficking.”
“What?” He stopped in his tracks.
I peeked through my hands and noticed he was holding on to my piece of paper that held my directions.
“You, uh, dropped this.”
Feeling like a complete moron, I took the paper and apologized. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I have an overactive imagination.”
“So you thought I was going to steal you? Do people even steal grown adults?”
“Maybe?”
A small smile spread across his face. “Well, I’ll keep an eye out for such a thing. Have a good time at Manny’s. They have the best tacos.”
“Thanks,” I said as I glanced at the paper. “Any taco suggestions?
“I’m a true man and go with the beef tacos, but I heard their fish tacos are good too. Watch out for their margaritas though. They are good but can knock you on your ass.”
“Got it, thank you, Phillip, and sorry I’m such a freak.”
“You’re not a freak, Rosie. You’re quite the opposite. Hope to see you around.”
He waved a small goodbye and then headed toward the curb and hailed a cab. He moved with such confidence, it was hard not to watch him. For some reason, I almost wished it was Phillip I was going to have tacos with because he seemed like he would be good company. Plus, he was very attractive. I could see myself really liking him.
Shaking my thoughts, I followed the directions to Manny’s. It didn’t take too long—it was a quick ride and a couple blocks walk—so I arrived on time.
The restaurant was quaint. It had some twinkle lights hanging outside and the inside was vibrant with orange, yellow, and red gracing the walls. The bar—where the infamous margaritas were made—lined one side of the wall, and big string lights hung from the ceiling, crisscrossing from wall to wall, providing a lovely ambiance.
In Alejandro’s letter, he said he would be wearing a black sweater, so I looked around for the man I remembered from the profile picture sporting a black sweater.
“Hello, Rosie,” a deep, very accented voice said from behind me. I turned to see Alejandro. He wore a black sweater and was holding a single rose. The V-neck of the sweater showed off some chest hair but nothing that was too distracting, and his hair was slicked back, giving me a great view of his deep brown eyes. He was a Spanish dream.
“Alejandro?” I asked, gulping. This suave man almost seemed too exotic for me with his intoxicating aftershave, deep sultry voice, and sexy appeal.
“Yes, querida. Don’t you recognize me?”
“I do, I just wasn’t expecting for your voice to be so sexy.”
Oh my God, did I just say that?
A devastating smile crossed his face.
“Come,” he demanded as he grabbed my arm and led me to a table in the back where there was plenty of privacy. His strong hand held on tightly, not applying too much pressure, just enough to let me know he was taking control. His warm touch had me shivering.
“Here, querida, allow me.”
Like a gentleman, Alejandro pulled out my chair for me and helped me sit. Once he was satisfied, he took his own seat across from me. My back was toward the front of the restaurant, so I could only focus on him, and I wondered if he did this on purpose.
“I’m so honored you decided to come to dinner with me.”
