Free Geek Chic by Lesli Richardson

the curb.
    He resumed his previous perch, his back to the window, eyes on her. There he remained, completely aware every time she glanced his way, savoring it.
    I will wear her down.
     
    * * * *
     
    He’s trying to wear me down.
    Well, if he thought he was going to do that, he had another thing coming. She’d raised three headstrong siblings.
    Mystery Hunk had nothing on her.
    By the time they returned downtown to the Marion Transit Center, it was obvious he was neither going to leave the bus, nor let go of his question. When the departing passengers had disembarked, Mystery Hunk reached over and scanned his pass again, sitting back with a slightly smug look she wanted to kiss right off his—
    No , that wasn’t right. Slap, not kiss.
    Focus, Nami.
    “Ms. Drexler, I am a very patient man,” he said. “I plan on sitting here all day long, until the end of your shift. And then tomorrow, I’ll be back. And the day after that. All I want is your name.”
    Bullshit.
    But she didn’t say it, well aware of the camera filming everything.
    And it’d be stupid if she filed a report about him, had him pulled off her bus.
    Mostly because she didn’t want him hauled off her—
    Argh!
    He smiled. “Believe me,” he quietly said. “I don’t want to be hauled off your bus, either.”
    Before she realized what she was doing, her head whipped around, meeting that piercing blue gaze of his. “How did you—”
    He smiled. Wolfish. Sexy. Sinful and delicious.
    Lord help her, she wanted him.
    Badly.
    “Perhaps I’ve been rude,” he said. “Let me introduce myself. Dawson Beckett. But everyone calls me Beck.”
    “What do you expect me to say?” Her voice had never trembled this badly. Never.
    She was used to cowering irate people, and terrifying one particularly headstrong teenaged brother, not to mention keeping two younger sisters in line while they struggled through their difficult teenaged years.
    “I expect nothing,” Beck said. “I would, however, love to know your name.”
    Her throat went dry. “Namiyah,” she said. “My friends call me Nami.”
    “May I call you Nami?”
    She nodded before she could help herself.
    His eyes narrowed in a sexy way that would have had her climbing out of her seat and into his lap if it wasn’t for her seat belt and a bus full of passengers.
    And the video camera.
    “Thank you, Nami. I appreciate that.” Then, impossibly, he settled back in his seat, apparently content to do nothing more than watch her drive.
     
    * * * *
     
    Namiyah Drexler Beckett. Namiyah Beckett. Nami Beckett.
    He didn’t care which combination he mentally ran through his mind, Beck thought they all sounded perfectly wonderful.
    I wonder if she has a middle name?
    Okay, that would be getting a little too personal in an inappropriate setting. He wanted to try to get her alone, after her shift, and then he’d find out all those things.
    Preferably while he was making sweet love to her, kissing every inch of her sweet, rich, chocolate flesh, making her scream his name while he made her come…
    Aaaaand there goes my chub.
    He reached down and adjusted his jeans a little, trying to will his erection back under control.
    That would be a losing battle. All he could think about was getting her home, getting her naked, and making love to her all night long and well into the wee hours of tomorrow.
    She won’t need to work anymore.
    Money wouldn’t be an issue. He didn’t want his mate working if she didn’t want to. From the deep crow’s feet bracketing her eyes, he could tell she’d shouldered a lot of worries. But the smile lines on her face told of love and laughter there, under the surface.
    If he could coax it from her, coax her into trusting him enough to believe, to want this as badly as he knew he wanted it.
    Wanted her .
    Back to Citrus Park, he scanned his bus pass again, glad to see that the farther they got from rush hour that the number of riders dropped. He leaned forward. “When does your