The Sip and Grind has a steady stream of customers looking for their caffeine fix. I brought my sketch pad and am drawing up samples for clients. Every time the door opens, I look up, but I’ve no idea who I’m looking for until she walks in.

Jaci Michaels is stunning and looks ready to bolt any second. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, and her teeth bite into her plump bottom lip, as she scans the coffee shop. I don’t question if the stunning brunette is my date. There is no question in my mind it is her. Her eyes widen in surprise and fear when they meet mine. I can see clear as day, the panic building in her from across the room.

She starts shaking her head and takes a step back but collides with a guy coming in the door. I stand and go to her thinking; maybe I can calm her down enough to at least have some coffee. Nadine said this is important and from Jaci’s reaction, I would say that is an understatement.

“Thanks, man, I’ll take it from here,” I say to the guy still holding onto her. I don’t like seeing his hands on her arm even if he is offering support. It’s a crazy reaction when I haven’t ever spoken a word to her, but the raw fear in her eyes rouses something deep inside me. I feel protective of her, a woman I know nothing about yet.

“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her back to the table I’m sitting at before she came in the front door of the coffee shop. She takes the chair I hold out for her, and I move away to place an order for her. On instinct, I order her a hot chocolate instead of coffee. The way she is on edge, I don’t think caffeine will help her nerves any.

I keep my eyes on her as I wait on the barista to hand me her drink. The girl is looking at me with lust filled eyes and an open invitation, which I ignore. She seems barely out of high school, and while I’m not that discerning where women are concerned, I at least want to be sure I’m fucking a woman and not a girl.

Jaci is all woman. Her legs are toned but supple, with thighs a man can envision squeezing his head as he eats her out. Her breasts are full, and her hips curved enough to hold onto as a man pounds into her from behind. It is her lips that have blood pooling between my legs. She has lips women pay to have. They are full, with the top being almost as full as the bottom one. I watch as she tries to pull the jersey she is wearing down her thighs. Her legs are bouncing nervously beneath the table.

“Here you go.” I set the hot chocolate in front of her. “I’m guessing you didn’t take our set up any better than I did.”

She nervously pushes her hair behind her ear, as I sit across from her. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, we’ve got that in common. Nadine had this planned when she asked me to be a part of the auction.” I shake my head and take a sip of my own coffee.

“Your drawing is amazing.” She nods towards the open sketchpad I left on the table when I went to keep her from running out the door. “It could make a cool tattoo.”

“That’s good because that’s what it is. It is for one of my clients.”

“It is awesome. I can’t draw a stick figure to save my life.” Her smile is small and self-deprecating.

“Drawing is what kept me sane when I was overseas. My family would send sketch pads and pencils in their care packages. It was a piece of normalcy when I was in hell.” Where the fuck did that come from? It is way too heavy for a paid blind date.

“I understand. Writing did the same for me.”

“Writing? What do you write?” A flush spread across her cheeks while refusing to look at me. Her hand shakes as she raises her cup to her lips and blows on the hot liquid.

“I write freelance.” It’s not an answer, and I sit back, giving her a look that says I will wait and do. Patience is something I’ve had plenty of practice with, “I write novels.”

“An author, that’s impressive. What types of novels?” From her flush and evasiveness, I have a good idea of what types of books she writes. I want to see if she’ll tell me herself.

“I write romance novels.” Jaci stirs her hot chocolate and looks away from me for a moment.

“I figured as much.” At her quizzical look, I add, “You blushed and evaded answering. If you wrote kids’ books or mystery novels, I don’t think you’d be as hesitant to answer.”

She smiles, and a dimple appears on her left cheek. Her jade green eyes sparkle, and she seems to relax a little. “I guess my blush hasn’t quite broken yet.”

“No. It hasn’t, but that’s not a bad thing.” I search her face. She is innocent and unlike anyone else I’ve been around. “How did you get into writing?”

She beams, “I was born a reader. In third grade, I was reading Mark Twain and C.S. Lewis, while my classmates were reading R.L. Stine.”

“Goosebumps, I was a fan.”

“I’m not surprised; they seem to be a staple of every childhood.”

“Except yours.” I nod towards her, before taking another sip of my coffee. Her hand doesn’t shake quite as bad, as she raises her own cup to her lips.

“Yes.” She whispers before taking another sip.

I let the silence settle around us, linger. My hands are linked loosely on the table, as I sit studying the woman across from me. Nervously she pushes her hair behind her ear again. It amuses me that I make her nervous and impresses me she holds my stare, despite the anxiety.

“So…My sister tells me to dress casually. Actually, she picked my clothes out. But you didn’t need to know that.” Her rambling is as cute as a flush spread across her cheeks.

“She told you, right?” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. Her eyes follow my movement and trace the ink covering my arms and hands. Tattoos turn her on, though I wonder if she is even aware of it. Jaci seems oblivious and innocent, which isn’t the typical woman I keep around, But, for whatever reason, the woman intrigues me.

“The date your sister bid on is parasailing over the bay.”

I couldn’t stop chuckling when she starts cursing under her breath; words that are entirely at odds with her sweet and innocent demeanor.

“I guess you’re in luck, Mr. Taylor—”

“Call me Sebastian or Bas.” I interrupt her. “You call me Mr. Taylor and I start looking for my father.”

“Sebastian, this is a waste of your time, because I’m not going parasailing.”