He studied it as if it were foreplay, then took a slow sip “Looks like rebirth,” he said, his voice all velvet and wickedness, “and tastes like sin.” I got the impression he wasn’t talking about the coffee, not when his sparkly blue murder eyes lingered like a caress. I cleared my throat. “Are you flirting with me or reviewing the drink?” “Can’t it be both?” My brain short-circuited. “I…uh…well, I mean, context matters?” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Here’s your context, Maya Rose Rivers. The drinks are good here, but that’s not why I keep coming back.”
