My pulse hammered away in my chest, and I inadvertently bit my lower lip, then gave myself a mental chastising for encouraging his behavior. What was I doing? No, Melissa. Bad. Bad Melissa. Stop. I straightened up in my seat and stared forward out the windshield at the lightening horizon. “Well, I should probably get going. I’m on my way to Food Surplus. I have grocery shopping to do this morning.”
“I’m headed that direction myself. How about coffee first? Friends can get coffee, right? And talk? Talking isn’t bad; you said so yourself.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Just coffee. I promise.”
I casually ran my fingers along the curve of the steering wheel, desperately trying to find a reasonable excuse to get coffee with this man that didn’t instantly mean I was cheating. But I had already made the mistake of meeting his gaze. I couldn’t make more mistakes with this man . . . this muscular, athletic, tan—
No. I couldn’t allow myself to think about his body or what he might look like under that shirt. Not to mention whatever was below that buckle.