Probably Not Interested

Aston

When I looked up from the computer, I saw Blake crossing the lobby. He’d taken off his waistcoat, jacket and tie and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. If I were in a cartoon, my tongue probably would have rolled out of my head.

It was unfair for one person to be that beautiful. The crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and, now uninterrupted by the blue tie and black suit, contrasted perfectly with his tanned skin and pitch black hair.

I watched him walk up to us, admiring his perfect bone structure, angular jaw and the precisely measured way in which he moved. His gait was long but graceful, and his eyes, while seemingly focused on mine, still seemed alert to everything going on around him.

Whatever the man did for work, I doubted he ever missed a trick. The corners of his lips turned up into a smile when he got to the desk. “I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer of telling me where I could go grab a bite to eat.”

Despite his intimidatingly good looks