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He was suddenly at her side, hand laid over hers. "Our souls cry out for one another. Can you not hear them?"
She swallowed hard, trying to rein in her reaction to that smooth French accent and liquid green eyes. God, he smelled good. Fear, you idiot. You should be feeling fear, not lust. "My soul cries out for a dark chocolate whipped espresso with sprinkles. Unless you have that hidden somewhere on your person--" That brought to mind naughty images of her frisking him. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Please don't make me call the police."
"You would leave me?"
He sounded so hurt she almost laughed. "Yes, I'm going home." She opened the car door, forcing him to step back to avoid being hit by the swinging door.
"But I'll die without you."
She paused. The melodrama and game-playing were no longer funny. She wasn't a frumpy old woman but neither did she hold the illusion this scrumptious twenty something was at all interested in a forty-five year old in one inch heels and a dollar store purse. "They're taking tryouts for Hamlet at the community center right now. You're a shoe-in." She rummaged in her purse and came up with a handful of change. "Here's bus fare." She held out her hand, but instead of taking the change, he made to kiss it again.
She jerked free again. "You just don't get it, do you?" She slid into her seat and attempted to close the door. Her can of pepper spray was stuffed next to the parking brake. He hadn't crossed her tolerance line yet, but he was certainly straddling it.
He blocked the motion. "I can bring you to heights no man can."
Her eyebrows arched. "So can a couple of batteries and a vibrator. AndI'm guessing they carry a hell of a lot less baggage." Her right hand closed around the pepper spray.
"I will take you prisoner. I will make you understand."
Damn, those were the magic over-the-rainbow-wacky words. He crouched beside her. She pepper-sprayed him directly in the eyes.