A Game of Cat and Mouse

F I V E

Annie looked at the outstretched hand in front of her. Was she really about to dance with this man—this stranger?

But that was the thing. She had no idea what her mystery boy's name was, no idea where he was from or how old he was. But for some reason, he didn't feel like a stranger.

You are the one I dream of. That was what he said. Annie didn't dream but she wondered if she did, would it be of him?

He was handsome, very handsome. She would be lying if she said otherwise and he seemed to know he possessed good looks. The boy carried himself with a strong aura of confidence and charm. His brown hair was mussed in a way that was so lazy and yet so perfect. Deep blue seas lingered in his eyes, blissful shades of blue and silver and even a little black combining to form an ocean of thought. He had a strong jaw with high cheekbones and dimples that appeared when he smiled, which was often.

Annie didn't often go for handsome men. Actually, she hadn't ever gone after any men, too afraid of them to even speak to them. But it was almost impossible to be afraid around him. His laidback grin and effortless charisma somehow managed to climb past all of her walls like the fortress surrounding her heart was nothing more than a sandcastle.

And so when he held out his hand again, blue eyes patiently waiting for her to accept, Annie slowly slipped hers in, reveling in the brief moment when sparks flew up her entire arm from the warmth of their touch.

He immediately took the lead, a strong hand on her back guiding her through the steps in the garden. For a brief moment, Annie wondered what it would be like to have a man like this take charge of her life, barreling through it with boyish charm that only he seemed to possess.

That's crazy. You've just met this man.

"What are you thinking of, cara mia?" The Italian rolled so easily off of his tongue that she wondered if it was one of his native tongues.

"What does cara mía mean?" She asked, evading his question instead.

"''My dear,'" he replied with no hesitation as if he didn't have any second thoughts about calling her something like that. He's a stranger. A charming one but still a stranger, she reminded herself as he spun her gently. "It's what my father calls my mother." He grinned devilishly. "But I like mia topolina better."

Annie bit her lip and noticed that his eyes seemed to shift in color when she did. She immediately let go of the lip but that just made it worse. "And what does that mean?"

He slowly lowered her into a dip, his lips brushing her ear when he whispered, "My little mouse."

"I- I'm none of those things," she stammered breathlessly. Having him so close to her was driving her mind crazy. His scent, his warmth, all of it was making her mind go haywire.

"Oh, but I beg to differ." The boy winked before pulling her up. "You are soft and gentle like a mouse. Little like one too."

With a graceful spin, he turned her outward before quickly pulling her back in. His warm front pressed against her back while his arms slipped around her waist as if it were natural to hold her. When he spoke, hot air drifted down her neck, making her shiver. "And you might not be mine," he murmured, tucking a piece of loose hair behind her ear, "But I hope you will be."

But Annie just frowned, stiffening in his hold. "It seems odd to want a partner so soon just based on looks."

"I don't want you only for your looks—though they are a plus."

"Don't you, though? You know nothing about me." Once again, Annie was reminded that she still hadn't told him her name. At this point, she wasn't even sure she was going to. Her mind kept flashing from being totally smitten with him to very cautious.