Free Scream My Name by Kimberly Kaye Terry

sheer, ridiculously frilly apron that tied at the back in a big bow. But hell if he didn’t want to unwrap the bow to get at the gift inside the pretty package.
    On her feet she again wore high heels, but this pair was backless, the type women could slip their feet into. He didn’t know what they were called, but they were sexy as hell, especially on her as she stood before him, semi-balanced on one foot, her other foot easing in and out, in and out, in a hot see-sawing glide that had him hypnotized.
    He silently thanked whoever had created the style.
    “I meant on the menu , Mr. Walters…is there anything on the menu that you find appealing,” she said, snapping his attention back to food and away from sliding feet and sweet beaded nipples.
    “Sugar, I know what you meant,” he replied, and when she simply arched a brow in response, he smiled and handed her the menu. “I’ll have whatever you suggest,” he replied.
    “How about a nice bowl of Aunt Sadie’s signature Texas chili? It’s the house specialty. That is, if you can take the heat.”
    “Hmmm, don’t know how much…heat…I can take this time of night.” He leaned back and grinned at her, enjoying the exchange.
    “You’re a big strappin’ Texan. I’m sure you can handle a little spice, can’t you, big boy?” she mocked and grinned an angelic smile.
    He trusted that smile as much as he would a coiling rattlesnake.
    For all her faults, his mama didn’t raise a fool.
    He opened his mouth, ready to order something else when he caught the look of triumph dancing in her eyes and decided what the hell. No way in hell was he going to let her think he couldn’t handle anything she could dish out.
    In or out of the kitchen.
    “I think I’m man enough to handle it.”
    With a nod and a completely devilish grin on her face, she accepted the menu from him. In the exchange the tips of their fingers touched and a spark of electricity arced from his hand to hers.
    You would have thought she’d been bitten by the same snake he compared her smile to, the way she snatched her hand away so abruptly.
    If they continued on like this, pussyfooting around each other, sparking and igniting, they were liable to set the whole damn place on fire.
    She turned away and walked back to the counter toward the tall, lean man she’d been wrapped around when he’d walked into the café, and spoke something in his ear.
    Brandan saw the man laugh and look toward him and from the distance he could have sworn he saw sympathy in the man’s eyes. Brandan shrugged. Nothing she could dish out could he not handle.
    However, the sympathy from the man leaning against the counter did nothing to alleviate the need to punch him into the kitchen wall after he’d witnessed the hug they’d shared.
    Damn, what did the woman want, a harem, Brandan thought moodily, and sipped the sweet tea the pregnant waitress had supplied him with before scurrying out the door.
    He’d drilled Mateo without mercy, to no avail, when he’d called him that morning.
    Normally Mateo was more than happy to fill him in on his nighttime games, but as they’d spoken on the phone, he’d not told him one damn thing that had happened. Instead, he’d had the nerve to laugh at him, telling Brandan that if he was so curious, why didn’t he go to the café and ask Leila herself. Then he hung up the phone.
    He’d told himself it didn’t matter. She didn’t mean anything to him, and if his damn Casanova wannabe partner had more than a simple dinner with the woman, more power to him.
    Afterwards, he had joined Damian to go to the youth center and coach, just as he normally did on Saturdays, but midway through their practice he admitted to himself that he did care what happened.
    A hell of a lot.
    Too much.
    He’d finished practice and spent the remainder of the day acting like a schoolboy with a crush, trying to shove thoughts of her out of his mind. But in the end he admitted it was useless.
    He glanced around the