The Fabrizio Bride

Chapter Seven

Rafe looked back at the list: "Nice eyes."

He had nice eyes, didn't he? They were brown and... Well, they were brown. He tried to remember if anyone had ever told him he had nice eyes. Surely one of the women he'd dated over the years had said so. They didn't bug out or droop or squint when he smiled. At least he didn't think so.

How about nice lips instead? He'd been told his mouth was sexy on several occasions. He went back to the top of Sarika's list to see if she'd put down anything about a man's lips. "Honesty" was first. That was a good quality. He was honest. Then "integrity," "strength," and "caring." Yes, yes, and he'd cared for Sarika all day yesterday and planned to do so from now on. He mentally checked off caring.

"Emotionally available"? What the hell was that? He rolled his eyes and dismissed it.

"Kindness." He could be kind—to people who deserved it. "Financially stable"—no problem. "Good with kids and dogs"—he loved big dogs and always stopped to pet them in the park. As for kids, he liked them and was sure to love his own.

He came back to "Nice eyes" and decided to check that off, too. No one had ever complained about his eyes.

"Mysterious" was next.

"Rafe, put that down. It's private!" Sarika ran toward him. When she tried to rip the whiteboard out of his hands, he held tight.

"How can someone be honest and mysterious at the same time?" he asked. "To be mysterious implies secretive, and if you're secretive, then you probably have something to hide. Something bad. So the person lacks both honesty and integrity."

She groaned and rubbed her hand over the board, smearing the words. "I didn't put mysterious down. Elena did. I've had enough secrets to last a lifetime."

He winced, knowing she referred to their relationship. Still, if mysterious was off the list, he'd scored well, and that was something to celebrate.

He pried the whiteboard from her hands, laid it back on the couch, and pulled her into his arms. God she felt good. Soft and curved. "You look pretty today. Like a daisy."

"Romantic" could be checked off, too.

Her cotton, knee-length dress consisted of a wispy, white skirt; a fitted, yellow bodice that emphasized her curves; and loose, white sleeves. Kind of like a fairy-tale princess. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. He leaned in and nibbled her neck, inhaling the unique scent of her as he found her racing pulse.

Screw the list. He would be her husband. The sooner she accepted it, the sooner he could take her home and do a lot more than nibble. Maybe tonight, after they'd visited Ana Lisa.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, trying to squirm out of his arms.

He kissed up her throat to her mouth, brushed it with his own, then stepped back. "I thought we could go see Ana Lisa. She'll be expecting us."

"I'm working right now. I can't just leave. I told her I'd be there around six."

He checked his watch. "It's almost five."

"We don't have to go together."

"No, but it would make her happy." He'd play the guilt card for all it was worth. Anything so she spent time with him rather than meeting potential husbands.

Elena approached, and he greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. Her eyes laughed up at him. Brat.

"Hello, Rafe."