Free Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis) by Tori Carrington

maybe I had. But it struck me all over again as I sat across from him. It was hard not to notice he was handsome in an All-American kind of way. Bet he played varsity football in high school. Probably the team captain. Dated the head cheerleader. Had sex with her on a blanket at the fifty-yard line at midnight under a full moon. Maybe even dated her for years after . . .
    I cleared my throat and reached for a menu.
    ‘Have you been here before?’ he asked.
    ‘Yeah. It’s required to come here at least once a week when you’re Greek. You?’
    ‘First time. You recommend anything?’
    I put the menu back; I already knew everything on it anyway. ‘Depends on what you want. Herbivore or carnivore?’
    ‘Oh, very definitely a carnivore.’
    I nearly choked on the water the waitress had brought me and suddenly felt hot all over at the way he looked at me as if to demonstrate dead animal flesh wasn’t the only thing he wanted to tear into.
    ‘Lamb?’
    ‘Love it.’
    ‘They, um, do great chops.’
    ‘Sold.’
    I had the sneaking suspicion that I could have told him they served dog and he would have been all over it.
    Which flattered me more than any direct compliment would have.
    We ordered and I decided it would probably be a good idea if I got a takeout carton after the food arrived. It was one thing for me to entertain the idea that this was a date. Another for it to actually appear to evolve into one.
    I only wished I had instructed Rosie to call at a certain time so my departure would be easier and less obvious.
    Why? Well, number one because I wasn’t there to play ‘getting to know you’ with a CIS agent. Two? I was attracted to him – mightily so – and I didn’t want to be . . . also mightily so.
    ‘So you’re a PI,’ he said, turning his cup over so the waitress could pour him coffee. I ordered a frappé.
    ‘So I’m a PI.’ I smiled. ‘Did I tell you that? I can’t remember.’
    ‘No, you didn’t.’
    ‘Weren’t looking into my residency status, were you?’
    ‘No. Just looking into you.’
    I was glad for his honesty. ‘Yes, well, considering the resources available to the agency where I work, I can only imagine what you can get at the stroke of key.’
    He chuckled. ‘A lot.’
    ‘I bet. And not sure I want to know what you dug up on me.’ I crossed my legs under the table and found myself rubbing them together.
    I immediately stopped.
    OK, so I liked his laugh. And his smile. And the way he leaned forward as if wanting to get closer to me, hear every word I said.
    Then I realized why this meeting seemed so odd, out of the ordinary. It had been a good, long time since I’d been out on a date. Well, a date date, anyway. With someone I didn’t previously know. Yes, in that way.
    With Jake . . . well, our paths just seemed to keep crossing (it wasn’t until later I discovered it was by design), and one thing led to another (read: I determined to back him into my bedroom as soon as humanly possible), and we’d skipped straight to the sexy stuff without all the other boring date stuff.
    Then there was Dino . . .
    I stopped for a moment, slowly sipping my frappé.
    When I’d first encountered the yummy Greek baker on my parents’ sofa, I’d been told he was there to meet my younger sister, Efi, a victim of one of my mother’s many doomed-to-fail matchmaking attempts. Turned out he’d been there for me. Something else I hadn’t figured out until much later.
    What he and I had went well beyond his loving to bake and my loving the things he baked . . . and never mind the way he ate them off of me.
    I quietly cleared my throat, wondering if my cheeks burned as red as they felt.
    Of course, there hadn’t been any baking or eating recently since Dino was now back in Greece; abrupt travel plans made possible by the agency the guy across from me worked for.
    I looked across at Agent David Hunter, hoping I had managed to turn down the flame of attraction at least a hair.
    ‘And you’re a