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here?”
    “ You looked like you needed an escape.” I stare at him for a moment and then pull my phone out of my back pocket. It's getting late, and I need to do some grooming for tomorrow's casting call. The immediate danger my family was posing to my mental health and the size of my waistline should be over, at least for now. Plus, I can always say that I ate with Emmett.
    “ I should get home,” I tell him, deciding that the truth is probably my best avenue of escape. “I really do have an early appointment. It's an open call for a print campaign. Seriously, very rare.”
    “ Oh, come on,” Emmett says, scooting forward a couple of inches so that the toes of our shoes are touching. “We just got here.” He rests his chin on his knees. “Tell me a little about yourself.” I frown. This is my least favorite part of dating. I haven't accomplished anything in my life therefore I have nothing to talk about. I've failed over a hundred casting calls and am as fat as a pig, not exactly the best discussion topics to reel a guy in. At this point though, I am still not that interested in Emmett Sinclair. Yes, I want him to like me, and yes, he's cute as hell, but he doesn't understand what it's like to want something so bad you'd die for it. Nobody does.
    “ Ten minutes,” I say. “And you first.” Emmett sighs and slaps his hands on the wood floor on either side of him.
    “ What do you want to know?” he asks me as I sit up straighter, disgusted at the rolls around my waist. I doubt Emmett even notices or would care if he did, but it isn't about him – this is about me.
    “ What would you say is your best quality?” I ask him, thinking that I sound like a game show host but unable to take the words back. Emmett thinks on this for a moment which, once again, astounds me. He even considers stupid questions. Good for him.
    “ I'm trusting,” he says and then squinches up his face a bit. “Is that a weird thing to say about myself? Maybe I should say I'm gullible?”
    “ And you're modest, too,” I add, smiling back at him. Emmett chuckles and shakes his head.
    “ Hardly.” He looks up at me, and the moonlight catches on his brown eyes, making them shimmer with color and life. I think I could get a crush on this guy pretty easily. If I had time for crushes, I would welcome Mr. Sinclair with open arms. As things stand, this could be our first and last date. I decide that if it is, at the very least I should at least let myself taste those lips. They're puffy and pink and far too nice to be on a man's face. Admittedly, I'm a little jealous. I scoot forward and lean over, putting my hands on either side of Emmett's knees, dragging my breasts against his jeans as I press my face close and let my eyelids flicker shut.
    As if on cue, he moves into me, tangling his hand in my hair, pressing hot heat to my cold lips, tasting me with long teasing strokes of tongue that cut through my cold shivers and replace them with sudden contractions of my muscles as my body cries out hungrily, desperate for another bite. I hold back, denying it with sheer strength of will. Just as I deny myself calories for fear of the repercussions, I will deny myself Emmett Sinclair and whatever it is that he's offering. We just met today, and he's making me think weird things, putting strange thoughts in my head. I don't know how or why, but he sees that I need help, and he's willing to give it.
    I touch the back of Emmett's neck, run my fingers up into his shaggy hair and pull his hat away so I can tease and stroke and explore. Our kiss lasts minutes, stretches out long and warm, twists like taffy and solidifies into this little nugget of something. If I thought I was going to be able to escape Emmett after one date, I was wrong.
    I want … no, need more, and like food to my hungry body, I can only resist so long before it kills me.

 

    I'm standing in a line that curls around the block and doubles back on itself, so that the people at the