Infatuated by Elle Jordan Page A

those ‘Now Opening’ signs for the pizza place on Tenth.”
    “Ugh. That’s the third one this week. They slipped one under my door last week and I nearly broke my neck slipping on it.”
    “I get them, too. So.” He shoved the paper in his pocket and leaned against my car with an easy smile on his face. “How do you feel about company?”
    I raised an eyebrow. “You want to go grocery shopping with me?”
    “You need more than microwavable food. If I have to be the chef, then I should at least get a say in what I’m cooking, right?”
    “Hey, I tried to cook—”
    “Yes, you did. And what a cute attempt it was.”
    I laughed and slapped his chest. “Watch it, buddy, or you’ll be cooking for yourself and sleeping alone.”
    “Now you’re just getting mean. Come on.” He squeezed my butt. “We’ll take my car. It has more room.”
    “Fine. But hands to yourself.”
    He managed to look pained. “I’ll behave.”
    And he did behave.
    Until we were driving.
    He reached for ‘something’ half a dozen times and his hand ‘accidentally’ landed on my breast, made its way down my thigh on its own accord, and more than once I had to slap it as he reached for something behind me and ‘oops’ grabbed my butt instead.
    And that was when he was being good.
    The rest of the time, he said the most suggestive things, things like where he wanted to make love to me, how he wanted to do it, and listed off everything he wanted to do to me—and I was pretty sure half the things on his list were still technically illegal in all fifty states.
    By the time we reached the grocery store fifteen minutes later, I was hot, flustered, and could only think about getting my hands on Kale. Where my hands would be—on him or around his neck—was open for debate.
    He was a perfect gentleman in the store—as long as you counted brushing up against me or ‘accidentally’ rubbing my breast gentleman behavior.
    I slapped his hand away for the sixth time in less than ten minutes. “Keep it up, Kale.” My tone came out a laugh instead of the ‘I mean business’ tone I tried for.
    He wrapped his arm around me and it rested at my hip. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” he whispered in my ear, his grip tightening.
    “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
    “But that’s what you said.” He winked at me. “I don’t mind a Freudian slip every now and then.”
    As I growled at him, he strolled away and picked a few cans from a shelf. He tossed them in the cart, still smiling at me. “How can you make shopping sexy?” I demanded.
    “I didn’t know I could, but it’s fun.” His hand went to my upper arm. He gave it a friendly squeeze and his fingers brushed against the side of my breast.
    “I suppose that was an accident, too?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ally.”
    My eyes narrowed. He almost pulled off the innocent look. Almost. The eyes were a dead giveaway. The mischievousness glinted openly in them. Two could play his game.
    When we reached the next aisle, Kale stayed close to me. Anytime I stopped, he’d bump into me, then shrug innocently.
    I turned, smiled sweetly at him, and then bent down for a box of cereal. I intentionally pushed my butt toward him and grinned when he let out a low hiss. I stood, checked the box over, then bent again to get a different one. I wiggled my butt and had the satisfaction of hearing a groan.
    Looking over my shoulder, I noted his eyes were glazed and locked on my butt. My smile widened. “What’s next on the list, Kale?”
    “You’re an evil, evil woman, Ally.”
    I tossed the cereal in the cart and started forward. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    Kale kept his hands to himself the rest of the time, but he didn’t need them much when his eyes were always on me. With them, he said what he couldn’t say with words, what he didn’t dare say with his hands.
    I knew when someone was plotting against me, and that’s