Christ! He had to do something. His irrational preoccupation with Kara had grown worse and worse over the last year, causing him to want no other woman except her. He hadn’t gotten off with anyone except himself in well over a year, and he really needed to scratch that itch. Yet…he couldn’t. If he tried to take action, to make a move to call another woman, he would see Kara’s pretty girl-next-door face and hang up the phone.
I’m just that f**king obsessed with her.
Simon glanced at an approaching figure, his mind almost immediately starting to dismiss the dark-haired woman who was dressed in a short, black, leather mini-skirt and a bright red sweater. He’d never seen Kara dressed in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt that sported the restaurant’s logo; standard casual dress for employees of his mom’s restaurant.
He did a surprised double-take as the woman got closer, gaping when her face came into view. Holy Christ! It was Kara. She was close enough that he could see her features, the same face that haunted his wet dreams every damn night, but the outfit….
What in hell is she wearing?
Simon could see almost every inch of her long, slender, shapely legs in the ultra-short mini and the whole outfit molded over her br**sts, torso, and ass like a glove. His c**k was instantly standing at full attention and he pulled his hands out of his pockets. They curled into tight fists as a bead of sweat rolled down his face. Followed by another. And another.
Goddamnit! What was she thinking? Dressed that way, she was practically begging for some man to come and snatch her up off the street.
And, by God, he was going to be that man. He wasn’t leaving that opportunity to another male, someone who might do her harm.
Didn’t she realize that this was Tampa? A major city! It wasn’t some tiny town where she could walk the streets at night and not be noticed or accosted.
Simon unclenched one fist and gripped the window frame for support, his eyes never leaving the approaching female. Gritting his teeth, Simon knew that today was the day he was going to have to get close to her, closer than he’d ever been before. He couldn’t handle these animalistic and rampant emotions anymore. He didn’t like them, wasn’t used to them. All he wanted was his sanity back, to return to his computer and work on his passion for developing computer games without erotic thoughts of Kara taking over his brain.
Sense. Reason. Control. That was how he functioned and what he needed in order to be himself again, and dammit, he’d get back to his normal state of mind, no matter what drastic measures he had to take to achieve it. Somehow, he would purge himself of this incredibly stupid and raging desire for Kara Foster.
His mind made up, Simon pushed off the window frame and stood up straight, lowering his “mask” until his face was devoid of emotion. He was good at that. He’d been raised in an area of Los Angeles where most normal people would never even enter; a place where being weak, slow-witted or fragile in any way meant being destroyed.
If nothing else, Simon Hudson was a survivor. His guise firmly in place, he ripped his gaze from the window, turned sharply and strode purposefully toward the door.
*****
Kara Foster was having a seriously bad day!
She hefted her backpack to make it sit more solidly on her shoulder and reached for the hem of her ridiculously short skirt, yanking it down hard to cover her ass. The clothes looked great on her classmate, Lisa, who was several inches shorter and seven years younger than Kara. Unfortunately, they didn’t look quite the same on Kara’s taller, fuller body. The sweater hugged her generous br**sts and the skirt was too damn short, barely concealing the cheeks of her ass.
She was a street-smart woman, having grown up in one of the worst areas of Tampa and coming through the experience intact. Kara knew how to protect herself, how to avoid any unwanted attention. So what in the hell was she doing in an outfit that was bound to get her in trouble? Stupid, Kara. Really, really stupid!
Frowning, Kara forced herself to keep walking. No big deal. She was in a decent area. So what if she looked like a sex kitten in sneakers? Eight more blocks and she would be home, free to finally strip off the ludicrous outfit and put on her own comfortable jeans and t-shirt.
Kara heaved a sigh as she focused solely on arriving at the tiny apartment that she shared with another student. Her legs were cold and she shivered, walking faster to get her body warm. It was January in Tampa, and while the daytime hours were pleasant, it got chilly at night. She should have brought her jacket, but she had been running late this morning.
She hadn’t planned on having her legs bare and her behind flapping in the breeze.
The day is almost over.
Thank God!
She had spilled coffee on her own jeans and t-shirt earlier in the day. With no time to go home and change before she had to get to work, Kara had gratefully accepted the offer of clean clothes from Lisa, a classmate who was never without a change of clothing in her car. It wasn’t that Kara didn’t appreciate the kindness of her classmate. She definitely did. Kara just wished she could wear the clothing with the same attitude as Lisa. But…she couldn’t. She was used to keeping a low profile, and she was mortified that she probably resembled a call girl with bad shoes, functioning the entire day and evening with a hint of red on her cheeks and trying desperately not to bend over.
When she had arrived at the restaurant for her shift, her kind boss, Helen Hudson, had taken pity on her and dug in the drawers for an apron that reached Kara’s knees and covered her exposed backside.
Wishing she had worn the apron home, she jerked again at the bottom of the snug skirt with more than a hint of frustration, hoping she wasn’t flashing anything more than some bare thigh.
Exhaustion tugged at Kara’s body and her stomach rumbled. She had gotten so busy at work that she hadn’t taken the time to eat. The small, cozy restaurant had been busy, much busier than usual because it was Friday night. She had actually been grateful for the customers. The tip money she had in her backpack was all that stood between her and a completely empty bank account. Maybe she could buy a few groceries now that she had a few bucks from tips. Her cupboards at home were bare and her roommate seemed to be in even worse financial shape than Kara. Lydia never bought food and whatever Kara bought disappeared quickly.
Last semester! You can make it.
Damn…it had been a long four years, and Kara felt much older than her actual age of twenty-eight years. Actually, she just felt old. Period! Most of her classmates were barely legal drinking age and were all about college partying, while Kara could only think about making it through each day, getting one step closer to graduation.