"I'm sorry, Beth. It's just that you're not what I expected a tattoo artist to look like."
Beth pretended surprise. "And what should I look like?"
"You know," his mouth tipped lopsidedly, "big, burly, a beard to your waist and M-O-M across your chest." When she didn't immediately deny his stereotypical description, his cocky smile wavered. "You don't have…you know…" He pressed his palm to his chest.
Beth laughed, more amused than offended. "Of course not. The light's green."
He faced forward and set the car in motion. "You do have a tattoo though?"
"Yes. Do you?"
"No."
They crossed the Willamette River, leaving the bright city center skyline behind.
"You're welcome to visit my studio sometime." Beth pulled a business card from her purse and tucked it into his lapel pocket. "I'll give you a tour."
"Where is it?"
"The address is on the card. Third floor, suite 301."
"I meant your tattoo."
Beth smiled at him. "Which one?"
"How many do you have?" he asked.
As though surprised there could be more than one, but didn't want it to show. She'd encountered that reaction before, as well. Again, she laughed. "I think I'll let you worry about that for awhile."
He would, too, damn it. Although he had to admit that looking for them held a certain undeniable appeal. ♥
