Rafael glanced around. Air stalled in his lungs. The owner of Fontaine restaurant was stunning. She laughed softly. Even with the noise of the crowded bar Rafael heard the alluring sound. He decided then and there he’d hear it again…while they were in bed.

“Welcome to Fontaine, gentlemen,” Nathalyia Fontaine greeted. “Is the food and the service to your satisfaction?”
“I have a problem,” Rafael said, waiting for her to face him. When she did, his pulse hammered, but nothing showed on his face. He wasn’t a cop for nothing.

“Yes?”
Standing, Rafael held out his hand. “My name’s Rafael Dunlap.” The contact was barely the touch of their palms. Still, Rafael felt his heart rate increase. He studied her exquisite face for a reaction, and was disappointed to see none. “Go out with me and we can discuss it.”

Not one luscious black lash moved. Rafael couldn’t recall a woman being totally unresponsive to him. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Please excuse me for a moment.” She walked to the hostess station. Rafael watched her every step. He admired the erect posture, the way the black material hugged her perfectly shaped hips. Without conceit, he told himself that he’d be doing the same before the week was over.

She returned with a menu and handed it to him. “As you will see, I’m not on the menu,” she replied sweetly. “Gentlemen. Please come again.”

She hadn’t taken two steps away before the men at his table burst out laughing.