As he saw me approach, he got on his knees and pushed up the sleeves of his navy-blue cotton sweater, exposing his perfect forearms. "I've brought you three types of croissants," he announced. "That has to earn me some points." He pronounced "croissants" with a flawless French accent. Could this guy be any sexier? Do not get sucked in, I told myself, tucking my hands under my arms as I sat down on the gray flannel blanket. There was a stiff wind coming off the water, and my green hoodie was zipped up all the way to my chin, which had the added benefit of sending a clear message--not here to flirt. "Maybe. We'll see," I said, checking out the rest of the spread. Laid out on the blanket were four separate platters heaped with fruit, croissants (butter, chocolate, and strawberry), eggs Benedict, and all manner of breads and cheeses. "Are you a tea person or a coffee person?" he asked, holding up two silver thermoses.
What do You think about Private 09 - Paradise Lost?
