Free Skin Tight by Ava Gray Page A

well.
    Taking a deep breath, Mia stepped out of her rented Ford Focus and ran a hand through her hair. She hoped he didn’t read too much into the way it spilled around her shoulders. Her outfit was casual but attractive: black skirt paired with a red sweater. She didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard.
    The Village Inn was a popular eatery, according to the area guidebook. The number of vehicles seemed to bear out the claim. This was an old tavern, modernized discreetly so it retained its charm. She liked the pale stone and the small brass sign, as opposed to neon.
    She scanned the parking lot, but she didn’t see his car. No point in waiting around—it was getting dark. It made more sense to head inside and grab a table.
    Within, the Village Inn was even more inviting, reminiscent of an Irish pub with its gleaming woodwork and whimsical sketches on the walls. A fresh-faced young woman greeted her with a smile. “Hi there, how many tonight?”
    “Two. I’m meeting someone—” She broke off when a man rose in the next room, beckoning her. “Never mind, he’s already here.”
    The hostess grinned. “Oh, him. He’s cute .”
    Mia would use many adjectives in describing the man she’d known as Addison Foster, and knew now as Thomas Strong, but cute was not one of them. For the first time, she wondered what other people saw when they looked at him. If he ever committed a crime, trying to get a description witnesses agreed on might prove difficult.
    Attempting to look confident, she crossed the dining room and slid into the booth opposite him. She couldn’t help but note that he’d changed after work. He wore a dark blue dress shirt, open at the throat, and a pair of dove gray trousers. No jewelry, but he’d put on a touch of cologne, something with notes of cedar and citrus, and it was so good, her toes curled inside her shoes.
    “I didn’t think you were here yet,” she said by way of greeting.
    “New car. I upgrade whenever I . . . relocate.” His explanation sounded innocuous enough—only she would catch the nuances.
    “What are you driving now, then?” Knowing that would come in handy.
    He pointed out the tinted window. “See the platinum Infiniti?”
    “You’ve a G37? It’s gorgeous.”
    His lips curved slightly. “You like it? Maybe I’ll take you for a ride.”
    “I priced them. They’re not as expensive as they look.” The car looked sinfully luxurious, something a rich playboy might drive. Mia supposed the vehicle went along with his role in upper management, a car carefully chosen to augment his status.
    The waitress, a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, stopped by their table with two menus. She wore a pair of jeans and a yellow polo shirt that said “Village Inn” on the front. “Our specials tonight are cream of potato soup, chicken kiev, and stuffed mushrooms. Can I start you off with some drinks or an appetizer, or both?”
    Perky, she has to be perky.
    “You like mushrooms?” At Mia’s nod, he told the girl, “We’ll start with the stuffed mushrooms and a good bottle of Pinot Noir.”
    After jotting down the order, the waitress hurried toward the kitchen. The place was nearly full, making Mia glad he’d arrived early enough to get a booth. It was a quirk, but she hated sitting out in the center where she felt like everyone was staring. There was no reason they would anymore, of course. In her current life, she wasn’t a freak with a 160 IQ, whose mother couldn’t afford decent clothing. These days, she dressed well, and she didn’t attract untoward attention, but she still preferred the quiet, cozy comfort of a booth.
    Mia arched a brow. “What if I don’t drink?”
    “Then I’ll have the whole bottle, and you must drive me home.” His slight smile curved a bit wider. “But please don’t take advantage of me.”
    All right, this wasn’t going at all as she’d expected. He’d discarded the razor edge she associated with him and