He paced the floor, remembering when he’d been in Jayda’s apartment the first time—remembering their kiss. He knew he shouldn’t think about that. Knew he ought to hold to his promise to forget it had ever happened. But he couldn’t do it. And when Jayda walked out of a back room, dressed for the evening, he swallowed hard and stared.“Too much?” she asked.“No,” he managed to say. “No, you look great. Perfect.”She wore a simple black dress with short sleeves and a neckline that scooped delicately below her throat. The hem hovered just above her knee. No extra skin on display, and yet the style and fit suited her figure so well, his heart began to race.“Should we go?” she asked with a guileless smile. She seemed to have no appreciation of what she was doing to him.“Yes, let’s go.” If they were on their way, maybe he’d be able to think about something other than what he wanted to do with the body waiting for his touch beneath that little black dress.They went to Luigi’s, a place Jayda chose, in Baltimore’s Little Italy.
