Free Mr. Mysterious In Black by S. Ann Cole Page B

possible? Yeah, with my retrograde amnesia, there could be such a thing. Maybe he just resembled someone I was once fond of.
    “It depends on what you want the S to mean. Superman, Savior…Sadie.” He gazed longingly at me with warm blue eyes and bit down on his lip. “I prefer the latter, though.”
    All gay thoughts were decimated from my mind when I blushed. Gay men didn’t look at women like that .
    “I can be anything you want me to, Sadie. For you. I can’t know what you want unless you tell me,” he said in a soft voice. His gaze lingered on my neck again and his pink tongue licked across his lower lip. Sweet savior … The temperature in here has risen.
    Shifting in my seat, I quickly changed the topic. “What kind of work do you do?” That’s a question that had been lolling in my head for a while.
    He stilled, eying me oddly. “I sell stuff.”
    “You sell stuff? Is that even a job description?” That has got to be the most unintelligibly he’d ever spoken since I’d met him. What the hell kind of answer is ‘I sell stuff’? Unless…unless he was a drug dealer. Oh no, not again.
    “Yes, it is,” he clipped.
    “White stuff?”
    “No. I told you, I’m not associated with your deceased. Neither am I like him,” he snarled.
    “Then what do you sell?”
    “Electronics. Appliances. All that junk,” he shrugged. “Why?”
    “Because I barely know you. And you want to move heaven and earth for me. I need to know more about my savior.”
    “I’m not important. You are,” he said. “There’s nothing fascinating or interesting about me or my life. Well, nothing has been for the last seven years…”
    “You are important to me because you’re helping me,” I petulantly snapped. Why did he not want to talk about himself? Now I was over-curious. “Are you sure you aren’t a drug dealer?”
    His expression grew thunderous. “Do I look like a damn drug dealer?”
    “No,” I answered in truth. “But it would explain why you don’t want to talk about your job.”
    “I just don’t want to talk about my job right now. It already consumes almost all of my time. I’m enjoying my pizza and you . Can’t I do just that?” He vibrated with irritation. “I allowed you to evade talking about whatever was bothering you earlier. Do the same for me. Thanks.”
    “Okay. Fine. We don’t have to talk about it now. But be sure that I’ll be asking you again and again until you tell me,” I mocked, throwing his earlier words right back at him.
    That won me another grin. And there’s that nagging again. When he smiled like that, all boyish and relaxed, he looked vaguely familiar.
    “Tell me about your family,” I pressed. “Any brothers? Sisters? Wife? Children? Pets?” Please don’t have a wife or children.
    “I have a healthy, comforting mother and a grumpy, controlling father. Two brothers, one sister, no wife, no children and my pet is in my pants,” he briefed.
    “I see,” I nodded. “Where’s the passion. Not family-oriented?”
    “I’d kill for them,” he deadpanned. “Are you and Devon serious?”
    His question took me by surprise. Where did that come from?
    Taking a sip of my wine, I answered charily. “We’ve only been on one date.”
    “And you plan on going out with him again?” It sounded more like a threat than a question.
    “Maybe. Yes.” Though I did find excuses twice when Devon asked me out again over the weekend. I didn’t like that he kept trying to sneak in questions about Tevin. His inexplicable interest in my friend had me wary.
    “Does he treat you right?” Now he sounded avuncular.
    “Yes. He’s very sweet,” I smiled. “He’s quite the gentleman.” And I’m no gentlewoman.
    He wiped his hands on his napkin and refilled his wineglass. All his movements were careful and measured as his brows crinkled in thought. Taking a sip of his wine, he slowly set his glass down, laced his fingers on top of the table and lanced me with his stare. “You