When in Paris... (Language of Love) by Beverley Kendall Page A

let April fool you,” she says as I pull into a parking spot at the grocery store.
    “ What do you mean by that?” I turn off the engine and angle my body toward her. I notice her hand is already on the handle of the door. She looks poised for flight.
    “ I mean she’s not just a pretty face, even though she flits around like she is, or that she doesn’t mind that’s how people treat her.”
    I’m studying her, trying to read what’s in her eyes when she yanks open the car door and gets out. I follow her more slowly and meet her in front of the truck. In silence, we make the short walk to the entrance of the store. The first set of automatic doors swish open and I’m walking toward the other when I notice her hanging back.
    “ You’re going to need a cart, aren’t you?” She stops a couple feet behind and gestures to four rows of steel-wired shopping carts behind her.
    With her hair down around her shoulders the way I like it and wearing black skinny jeans that make her slim legs look like they go on forever, she attracts the attention of three guys on their way out. Judging by their appearance, I’d say they were all about my age. Two of the guys, who she actually brings to a stop about five feet from me, are practically eating her up with their eyes, their gazes sweeping her from head to foot while wearing these stupid-ass grins on their faces.
    What the fuck? What the hell do I look like? They don’t know I’m not her boyfriend. I could be. Well I am tonight as far as they’re concerned.
    “ Hey, you got a problem?” I throw it out like a challenge.
    Their gazes shift to me and a look of surprise flashes across their faces. The third guy continues out the door, a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
    “ Naw, man, no problem,” the skinny guy replies.
    “ Good. Look, I don’t mind if you look at my girlfriend, just don’t ogle her. It embarrasses her.” And pisses me off.
    “ Cool. Didn’t mean no offense,” his friend says, pulling the skinny guy by the sleeve of his jacket, urging him outside where the third guy is waiting on the sidewalk doubled over in laughter.
    Seconds later, in the whoosh of the doors closing, they’re gone. I turn back to Olivia, who is watching me with a curious look on her face.
    “ Girlfriend?” she asks, quirking a brow.
    I give a careless shrug. “Hey, they need to learn to show some respect.”
    She chuckles softly and after a pause says, “Okay then, getting back to the cart, do you need one, because my stuff will hold in one of the baskets.”
    “ Yeah I do. I told you I suck at this.” Some people say they have a quiet little voice inside them that cautions them when they’re about to do something stupid. Well the little voice inside me isn’t quiet. In fact that voice is loud as hell and he’s telling me in no uncertain terms I can never be just friends with Olivia.
    Pulling a cart out from the line, she pushes it toward me. “You wanna steer?”
    At her question, all kinds of crazy, dirty thoughts fill my mind. Thoughts of us naked on my bed, me above her, steering us to a mind-numbing orgasm. I bite down on my inner cheek hard to suppress a smile and clear my throat so I won’t sound like the horny bastard I am right now.
    “ Sure. Gotta get used to this anyway, right?”
    I get the feeling she knows exactly where my thoughts are because her cheeks get flushed and she nods in agreement while avoiding eye contact.
    The next hour goes faster than I thought it would. It’s easy when there’s an objective in mind. And yeah, maybe Olivia has a lot to do with that too.
    She shows me how to select the best vegetables and advises against getting bananas too ripe. Christ, there’s even a trick to buying lemons. I never thought about lemons being too ripe or not ripe enough. But if I’m going to need to learn about the ripeness of fruit, there’s no one I’d rather teach me than Olivia. Hell, I’m actually having a good time. And