Hot black coffee burned as it soaked through Cindy's business casual slacks.

"Excuse me," said a deep baritone voice.

The apology barely penetrated the zillions of voices in her head telling her how stupid she was to wear light colored slacks. Hitting the snooze button three times had been a huge mistake. She couldn't change before the meeting-the one she was now going to be late for-and dear Lord, couldn't he have picked a better day to make an introduction?

"Did I do that?" asked Mr. French roast-no cream, sounding more like Sam Elliot than any mere mortal had a right to.

A sensation of rich, dark chocolate melting over her tongue filled her mind. If he continued speaking, she'd join the puddle of coffee spreading over the top of her shoe.

"I'm sure it was my fault," Cindy answered. Her breath stalled when he leaned closer to survey the damage, providing her with a whiff of spicy aftershave that mingled with coffee and male.

Frozen between basking under his gaze and running from the shop screaming with embarrassment, she licked her lips and swallowed the dryness no amount of coffee would ease. "I…I've been rushing all morning. It was in the stars." She scrunched her eyes shut. In the stars? What on earth made her say that? Within the space of three whole minutes, she not only looked like a walking laundry commercial, she sounded like a call to 1-900-Madam-X for the daily astrology reading. Now would be a good time for the floor to swallow her up.

She opened her eyes. He was talking to her again. To her. In that voice. Looking at her with those fathomless, dark brown eyes.

Good Lord, he's more than sexy. He was indecently gorgeous. A face and body like his-not to mention that voice-simply had to be illegal.