Just then she turned and their gazes met. He stilled, feeling the impact like a sucker punch. Although he couldn’t see the color of her eyes from this distance, they reminded him of caramel, the irises dotted with lighter flecks of gold and surrounded by a dark ring that resembled melted chocolate. Every time he looked into them he felt an inexplicable craving to indulge in something sweet.

The breeze teased her wildly curly hair, which she’d clearly tried to tame into a ponytail, with limited success. He tried to look away, but as always seemed to be the case when he saw her, his eyeballs failed to cooperate with his brain. Instead of looking away, his gaze flicked down her form. There was nothing overtly provocative about her white short-sleeved shirt and plain black pants. Certainly nothing that should have tightened his jaw further.

But there was just something about the way her clothes hugged her figure that rendered it…spectacular. And rendered him speechless. Damn it, every time he looked at her, in his mind’s eye he saw her lips-her full, glistening lips-forming the words, Would you like A Slow Glide into Pleasure? He found himself shifting to relieve the sudden discomfort in his pants, and irritation yanked down his eyebrows. How damn annoying was it that his body reacted so strongly to a woman he didn’t even like?

Pretty damn annoying.

She inclined her head and offered him a tight-looking half smile, a greeting of sorts he supposed, but before he could respond, she lifted her chin in that aggravating, stubborn way she had, then turned away and approached the fortune-teller’s table. He tried his damnedest to pull his gaze from her, but again failed, his attention riveted on her walk. She might be an artsy-fartsy, rule-breaking pest but there was no denying that she walked like sin in motion, with a slow, sensual, hip-rolling stride that made it seem as if the small patch of grass he stood on had suddenly moved closer to the sun.