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Los Angeles

He was a devil, drawing me toward him like a firefly to a flame.  I licked my lips, mouth slightly open.  He stood in front of me.  The gold-flecked eyes were inquisitive and quick to move.  His body radiated the aromas of cedar soap and sweet scotch.

Mr. Provocative had a sophisticated, yet hard-boiled look about him, a small cut above his right eye.  Dark brows furrowed above his masculine nose that someone had broken a time or two in the past.  He tied back his collar-length hair, exposing sharp cheekbones, perfect ears, and a dimple in his chin.

Clad in jeans ripped at the knees he had the thick thighs of a football player.  My eyes followed the line of his attire down to his shoes.  Shoes are important.  They tell me a lot about a person.  I’m a sucker for beautiful leather, the more well-loved, the better.  He polished his well-worn ankle boots.  He had a James Bond style watch with lots of dials and details.  An untucked black tee-shirt showed off ripped abdominal muscles.

My stomach quivered.  I felt off kilter, struck with the stunning, sexy as sin, man facing me.  His mouth curved in a devastating grin, a grin that says I’m his captive.  It was a grin that could bring me to my knees.   He held his hand out to greet me.

“What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?” he asked.

The overused pick up line was at odds with the confident, voice which was low, and husky as if he swallowed nails and they left scars.   If it were anyone else, I’d walk away from the cheesy line alone.  But, he was the devil on my shoulder and I wanted to be bad.  I leaned back, my body absorbing his energy.