Page 9 of Crow
“You’re welcome, and tell your mother that I hope she feels better.”
He glanced up slowly, curious as to what the clerk with the seductive voice—smooth and thick like caramelized sugar—looked like.Damn sexy.Shoulder-length dark hair glistened beneath the overhead light, and perfect lashes framed soft brown eyes infused with green. Crow’s mind spun as he realized she was the one at the restaurant the other night, and from the startled look on her face, she recognized him too.
Leaning against the counter, one corner of his mouth hitched up in a cocky smile, he said, “Hey.”
“Hi.” Her face flushed as she grabbed a rag and wiped the spotless counter.
Amused, Crow leaned forward. “Small world, right?”
“I guess,” she mumbled. “Did you want something?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”
A darker flush stained her high cheekbones, and she pursed her lips—luscious, full, and sensual lips that gave her the kind of mouth meant for hours of deep kissing.
Crow’s eyes roamed over her figure: curvy, long legs and a slim waist; he could do a lot with that.
Angie cleared her throat. “Do you want to order something or just keep gawking at me?”
He held her gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you, but I appreciate a fine-looking woman.”
“Thanks for sharing that bit of TMI.” She gave him a breezy, queen-like wave of her hand as she looked past his shoulder. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re pretty swamped right now. If you want a few minutes to decide, that’s okay, but I’ll have to take the next customer.”
He rocked back on his boot heels, cocked his head slightly to the side, and ran his gaze over her body. Then he slowly looked up at her. “Iknowwhat I want, but I’ll settle for two footlong meatball subs with provolone and hot peppers, a six-inch hot Italian with extra banana peppers, and”—he scanned the handwritten menu board—“a footlong Chicago Italian beef with mozzarella, and a blood orange Italian soda.”
She stared at Crow as if assessing him, then lifted her chin. “Olive oil and red wine vinegar on the hot Italian?”
“Sure, why not.”
She nodded, then turned around and walked over to a case filled with loaves of Italian bread. As he watched her, he couldn’t help but admire the rhythmic sway of her ass with every step of her long legs. Even in flats, her hips swung with a hypnotizing sexiness that brought on all kinds of nasty thoughts.
“Angela, pull out two ciabattas for me,” said an older woman standing in front of the cold cuts. She tucked a few strands of silver hair into the tight dark bun on top of her head and smiled. “Per favore,tesora.”
“All right, Aunt Rosa.” The pretty woman waiting on Crow pulled out two large loaves of bread, wrapped them in paper, then sprinted toward the woman who he recognized as the owner of the deli.
So her name’s Angela.
“Crow, how are you?” Rosa smiled broadly.
Nodding, he replied, “Good.”
A little line creased the center of her forehead. “Is someone taking care of you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m helping him,” Angela said.
“Perfect.” The plump woman handed the loaves to a customer.
“So you’re Rosa and Leo’s niece,” he said.
“That’s right,” she replied without looking up. “Did you want extra sauce on the meatball subs?”
“Only on one. I come in here a lot, so I’m surprised I’ve never seen you before.”
“I just help out once in a while.”
“So what do you do besides work in the deli and eat at Flanigan’s?”
