A Dangerous Invitation

I gulp nervously and turn around, leading him to my small office in the back of the store. Once inside the office, I whirl around to face him with my don’t-mess-with-me expression.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

He grins and replies, “Shopping.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He asks incredulously. “You sell stuff that I like, and I’m here to buy it. That’s why.”

“I see,” I say, not buying his story at all. “So you just happened to be driving by in your Rolls Royce and somehow spotted my little store in this not-so-rich side of town, and you decided to step in and buy almost everything?”

Sam laughs. It’s an infectious sound, and I hate that I like it.

“First of all, I don’t drive a Rolls Royc;, it’s too flashy. I drive a beamer.”

“Same difference,” I say, deadpan. My response makes him laugh again.

“Ok, you got me. I didn’t just find your store by chance, but it took me two whole months to finally track you down. I was almost starting to think that I imagined my meeting with you at the restaurant that evening.”

I sigh. “What do you want from me, Sam?”

“Aside from wanting to kiss you again?” He asks softly.

I feel my body reacting to his question in a way that surprises me. I cannot remember ever feeling this sexually attracted to any man aside from Walter. But even this feels different and more… potent.

“That was an accident,” I explain primly.

“Was it?”

“I mean, it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean to kiss you. I don’t even know what made me do it; I just – ”

I realize that I’m blabbing, so I stop talking.

“Would you like an opportunity to try it again?” He asks suggestively, taking a step towards me. “This time, it will be intentional.”

I feel my pulse quickening. My belly begins to quiver in anticipation, and my mouth goes dry. Why the heck am I acting like a pubescent girl?

This man is obviously skilled in the art of seducing women, so why am I still falling for his charm?

“Please, leave,” I say quietly.

Sam takes another confident step forward, towering over me. Now he’s standing so close to me that I can smell his musky aftershave and woody cologne.

“Is that what you want, Eunice?” He asks softly. “Do you really want me to leave?”

My instincts say yes, but my body screams no! I don’t want him to leave. I want him to finish what I started two months ago at the restaurant lobby.

I want him to pull me into his arms and kiss me until I forget my name and where I am. I want him to pick me up and throw me on my desk and ravish mease those fictional male characters in romance novels do to their love interest.

But… I have just gotten out of a marriage that almost destroyed my mental health. The last thing I need in my life now is a billionaire playboy with an endless list of female conquests. I refuse to join the exotic body count queue.

“Yes, Samson. I want you to leave,” I say as firmly as I can muster.

“Samson?” He says with a chuckle. “Are we being formal now?”

I shrug in response. “And you don’t have to buy anything in my store. I don’t want to owe you.”

“Owe me?” He asks, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to feel like I owe you a – a relationship or a booty call, just because you bought loads of stuff from me.”

“Huh?”

“No customer has ever ordered that many items from my store at once since I started my business. And now that that’s coming from you, there have to be some sort of strings attached. I don’t want that kind of complication in my life right now.”

He chuckles. “It’s not that deep, Eunice. I’ll pay for the things I ordered and believe it or not, I already have some people lined up who can’t wait to get their hands on your merchandise.”

“So they’re not for you?” I ask, a bit disappointed.

“Some of them are. But the bulk of them will be given out as gifts to some of my employees at the end of the month.”

I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness. “That’s quite generous of you,” I tell him.

“It is, isn’t it?” He grins. “Have I impressed you enough to secure a proper date with you?”

“No, Samson.”

“Stop with the Samson thing. Only my mother calls me that, and I find it a little bit annoying.”

“Yeah, whatever. Look, you’re trouble, and I don’t like trouble. Besides, I’m not your type.”

Sam throws back his head and laughs heartily.

“You’re one funny lady, Eunice,” he says. “Listen, I’d love to know you more…  intimately if you would allow me.”

“You’re not one to mince words, are you?”

“Nope. I’m a straight shooter,” he admits and checks his Rolex wristwatch. “I have to leave now. Business awaits. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Eunice.”

I can’t help but notice how disappointed I feel knowing that he is about to leave and I may not see him again…

Why am I holding out? Will it hurt to have a fling with this guy? After all, I’m a single woman now, aren’t I?

Besides, I’m flattered to be desired by this kind of man, even if he’s only after me to satisfy some kind of fantasy he may have. Maybe he wants me just for the thrill of it.

Or he wants to know what it feels like to hang out with a woman who is neither famous nor drop-dead gorgeous like his ex-lovers. What do I have to lose?

“Maybe next time you drive by in your beamer, you can drop in and say hello,” I tell him with a shy smile.

Gosh, what am I doing?

Sam grins, showing perfect white teeth. “How about tonight? Let’s have dinner somewhere nice. Preferably somewhere that doesn’t belong to me.”

“Tonight?” I ask, unsure. That’s too sudden!

I always tell Mrs. B ahead of time if I need her to sleep over at the house with the girls whenever I have to go out late at night or spend time away from home. I rarely do so, but I can’t just call her now and ruin whatever plans she may have for herself tonight.

“Or we could do lunch tomorrow if that works better for you,” he suggests when he notices my hesitation.

“Ok,” I agree with a smile. “Lunch sounds fine.”

“Great. I’ll text you,” he says and turns to leave. Then without warning, he turns around and plants a quick kiss on my slightly parted lips.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispers, and then he’s gone.

I stand in front of my desk, speechless. What just happened? What on earth have I gotten myself into?

“Eunice, you are in trouble,” I tell myself aloud.

I run behind my desk to grab my phone from my purse with shaky hands. This can no longer be a secret.