"Well, I'm impressed," she laughs.

"I'm not," I fib.

We finish the strawberries, and the waitress returns to clear the plate while handing me a new card. She's smiling ear to ear as I read the addressed name.

Miss Hot And Cold.

I let out a bit of a laugh as I open it.

I realize my hasty rejection to your earlier advance has possibly wounded your ego, but I can assure you it was not attributed to anything other than your brazen approach. I misjudged you, and now I'm filled with regret. Contrary to your accusation, I'm not overly fond of chases. I prefer simplicity in everything. Please reconsider, or I'll be forced to go against my grain and continue to chase you.

I shiver a little against the overwhelming temptation. Then a sigh escapes as I grab a napkin to write a reply on. He didn't leave any room on this small card for me to counter.

Mr. Lost Opportunity, It took a great deal of courage for me to put myself out there with what you call my "brazen approach." Your cruel rejection did wound my ego, and it embarrassed the hell out of me. There was simplicity in my obvious intentions, but you rejected it. The moment I showed you the same indifference you shared with me, you began this little "chase." It's obvious the chase is you're end goal, not me. The door closed the moment you slammed it in my face. I don't believe in second chances.

I hesitate for a moment, questioning my resolve. This will certainly end our little flirty exchange, but I don't need this much drama with a complete stranger. I'm going home tomorrow, and I certainly don't need to be sucked in by someone as hot as he is.

I hand the folded napkin to the waitress, and she disappears once more. I instantly regret completely killing the possibility, but I know it's for the best.

He said he misjudged me, but he never said why he changed his mind. Why didn't I ask? Why does it matter?

We sit at our table without further interruption from the notes, and the later it gets, the more crowded the club becomes. Things seem to work opposite here than back home. By midnight in Frankford, the party is almost over. Here, it's just getting started.

Clara slurps against her ice as she finishes her drink.

"I'm drunk and ready to go. Let's find something else to do," she slurs, amusing me quite a bit. I love drunk Clara.

I've essentially quit drinking and sobered up slightly.

"Something else? Like what?"

"Like... find a pancake house. I'm starving," she grumbles.

I laugh wildly as the image of our limo pulling up to a pancake house flashes through my mind.

"It's your night. Let's do it."

She smiles happily, and I help her to her feet. A twinge of disappointment invades me as I think of the man I've rejected and will never see again, but I shake free from the uninvited distraction.

We cautiously make our way down the steps, and Clara wobbles to the point I can no longer hold her. My off-balanced stance threatens to send both of us in a downward tumble.

The other girls are too far ahead, and I can't hold Clara another second. We start to tip, but strong arms wrap around me and pull both of us back to safety. I turn to see Devin staring fearlessly into my eyes, and now I'm wobbly for a whole new reason. He gently releases us once we're upright again, but his eyes still hold mine.

Clara smiles with her drunken beam, and then her head drops to rest on my shoulder as her body goes limp. She has passed the fuck out, and I'm feeling the strain of her weight pulling me in a tipping motion once more.

Devin scoops her up and relieves me of the impending tilt. He starts walking down the steps without saying a word. My heart is about to pound out of my chest, and I feel sick - so, so sick.

The bouncer opens the door for us, and the limo driver is holding the door to the car as we walk out.

"Oh, what happened?" Melissa gasps when she sees the limp body of Clara sprawled out in Devin's arms.

"She passed out," I mumble softly.

Melissa starts tossing her hair in an effort to lure Devin's attention. I roll my eyes at her obvious attempt, but he doesn't seem to pay her the attention she craves.

He lowers Clara to a seat and then pops back out. I start to get in, but he catches my arm and pulls me back. Then he leans in to speak to the girls.

"I'll carry Ms. Smith home. Can you ladies handle this one?" he asks while pointing to Clara.

Whoa. Wait. Carry me home? Who gave him permission to do that?

"We'll take care of her," Sarah chimes in. "Have fun," she yells as he shuts the door.

I scowl as I scold, "I never said I would go with you."

The limo pulls out into traffic, and Devin smirks at me.

"Well, it appears you have no choice now."

I cross my arms in protest and start walking away.

"You obviously don't live in New York. It's not safe for you to be dressed like that, walking in those heels, and going off alone. Please let me give you a ride," he says softly.

He's right. I don't know the first thing about maneuvering around New York by myself. I huff in defeat as he hands a man a ticket. The guy disappears, and Devin returns to my side.

"Your words were rather cutting. Perhaps now we can consider us even. I've only rejected you once, but you've rejected me three times now. Do you think it possible for us to start over?"

His soft tone is so alluring, inviting, and almost irresistible.

"Why did you change your mind?" I ask, my arms sliding out of their pouting cross.

"I thought you were the typical sort of woman who approaches a man in a bar. Most want free drinks, a fat wallet, and a night of ease. Then I saw you consistently refusing one advance after another. I thought you were beautiful, so I continued to watch. I finally decided to come make amends just as the jerk you were tousling with was running his mouth. I got a little pissed with some of the things he said. I'm rather proud of myself for not having punched him."

I calm down a little and let myself relax while trying not to get turned on by his sexy demeanor. He proffers his introductory hand once more.

"I'm Devin Cole. It's nice to meet you."

I smile a little despite my attempts to restrain it. I place my shaky hand in his, and follow his playful new start.

"I'm Aphr... Alexius Smith," I falter.

He starts to question my response, when a black, convertible Mercedes pulls up.

"Mr. Cole," the man says.

"Thank you," Devin replies.

The valet quickly goes to open my door, but Devin dismisses him as he opens it for me instead. He smiles at me when our eyes meet, and I can feel the blushing rose filling my cheeks.

I sit down and stare up at the brilliantly lit sky. The door to the driver's side closes, and I look over to see him checking for a gap in traffic.

"Don't you need to ask where I'm staying?"

He smirks as he pulls away from the curb while murmuring, "Not yet. Right now I'm hungry, and I can only assume you are too."

Not anymore. Now I'm a little nervous. I'm in a car with a complete stranger, and no one from my group even gives a damn.

"Not particularly," I mumble.

"I can promise I'm no threat. I simply want to feed you. Relax."

No serial killer ever warns his victims he's about to kill them. Why should I relax?

"Where are we going?" I ask timidly.

"There's a diner just ahead. It's a small, intimate space with good food and a quiet atmosphere. My head is still banging from the obnoxious music back at the club."

His nose wrinkles up, and I can see the distaste for the loud scene we've just exited.

"Why did you go if you hated it?" I question with a touch of humor.

"I had a business meeting, and for some absurd reason, Bob thought it would be good to meet there."

"That was a long business meeting," I add.

"Actually, it was short. We just had a few wrinkles to iron out, and then he left about an hour later."

I'm confused now, as relayed by my tone.

"Then why did you stay?"

He smirks while changing lanes. His eyes stay focused on the road ahead as he speaks softly.

"Because you were still there."

Really? I'm in trouble now. Why did he have to go and say that?

"Oh," I mumble.

His menacing grin grows as we pull up to the curb in front of a diner. I snap a picture of it with my phone, along with the street corner signs, and send it to our whole group.

He laughs a little. "Are you really so scared of me you're sending pictures of your location?"

I didn't mean for my actions to be so blatantly obvious.

"I'm just cautious."

"That's not a bad affliction. I can give you the address if you need it," he says while standing dangerously close to me.

"I think this is good enough," I murmur as uninvited chills consume me.

Wow, he's gorgeous. His soft hair dances carelessly on his brow, and his eyes dare me to come closer. He takes my hand, and I feel no strength enabling me to pull away. I go willingly with the sexy as hell stranger into the diner.

We sit down and a waitress almost trips when she sees the beautiful creature opposite me.

"Can I... um... take your body... I mean your order?" she stammers out.

I roll my eyes and look up to see his dark blue eyes staring at me. They look different than they did earlier. Now they look like the deep ocean on a windy day. I could have sworn they were a completely different color of blue, but the lighting at the club wasn't too helpful. I could be wrong.

He speaks to her while never leaving our gaze.

"We'll take two of your specials and two cups of coffee," he says assertively.

She lingers around as if she's waiting for him to pay her an ounce of attention. Finally, she scurries off to put in our orders when he doesn't offer her another breath.

"So you're the kind of guy who just orders for a girl without first asking what she likes?" I ask, trying to sound agitated, but lacking true conviction.

"I'm the kind of guy who knows what a girl likes without having to ask," he says with such a tempting, seductive tone.

Mmm. Crap. I'm so far out of my league.

This guy is an Olympic swimmer, and I'm still splashing around in the kiddy pool.

"So you're a playboy?" I muse in an effort to douse the flames between us.

He bursts out laughing and releases me from his smoldering hold. Whew. Now I can breathe again.

"No. Not at all. I'm an excellent observer. You requested coffee at the club, and they didn't serve it. The waitress told me. Your friend requested pancakes, and you were ready for them. So I gathered you like them as well."

"Where were you?" I ask curiously, all else suddenly forgotten.

"There's a private corner I requested after Bob left. I had a clear view of you, but you were unable to find me, despite your best attempts to do so," he murmurs with the seduction returning to his tone as his eyes daringly hold mine captive again.

"Oh. You saw me? That's a little embarrassing," I grumble while slumping down in the booth.

"It shouldn't be. I wanted you to look for me so I'd know whether or not I was pursuing a lost cause. I was enjoying your relentless eyes."

Oh he is so... No. I can't do this. I'm falling for this perfect piece of man, and I have to go home tomorrow. I start to tell him the truth, including my name, but the waitress returns with our food.

I'm hungrier than I realize when I taste the first bite. The sweet syrup does well to glue my mouth shut, and it prevents me from revealing anything.

We eat in a comfortable silence. His eyes find mine on occasion and my stupid grin slips free too many times.

As soon as we finish, he takes my hand and pays at the counter without releasing me from his grip. It feels like we're on a date, and I am completely dumbfounded by his perfection.

We walk outside to see the animated nightlife of New York once more, and he holds the door to his car open for me. I can't spend another minute with him because I'm dangerously close to launching myself at him.

"Thanks, but I can catch a cab from here. There's one just over there, and it's late. I'm sure you've got more important things to do than escort me back to my hotel."