Janice Freeman is an African-American women’s fashion designer in East Village, Manhattan who is in misery at turning forty. Hearing music float across the air in the form of a catchy hook on repeat, she hopes that ice cream will make her feel better. But the moment she sees him, she knows ice cream isn’t going to be the highlight of her day. It’s going to be the sexy ice cream man.
Antonio Rodriguez is not only a six-foot tall hunk, he is an out-of-work, twenty-seven-year old actor barely making ends meet. When he meets the curvy Janice, he finds that they have a lot more in common besides the love of ice cream.
As the truck stopped in front of her, it was all she could do not to let her mouth gape open and drool start running down her chin. The second she saw him sitting in the driver’s seat of the vehicle, Janice knew the ice cream wasn’t going to be the highlight of her day.
It was going to be the ice cream man.
He stopped the truck at the curb and moved around inside to the vending window. As he slid it open, the chestnut-colored eyes of the most handsome man she had ever seen looked down at her. He had olive-toned skin and black hair that hung in loose curls to his jaw line. Just the kind of hair you’d love to run her fingers through. A light fringe of dark moustache and goatee, groomed sexy and neat, drew attention to his lips. They were full, sensuous, warm, and gorgeous. Lips that you’d love to plunge your tongue between. She let out a deep breath as her lips curled into a smile.
The ice cream had suddenly become less important than the man. Pussy alert! She could feel the tingling that told her it wanted action, the type of action that hadn’t been forthcoming in quite awhile.
“Hello,” she blurted out. Instead of a sexy Beyonce, she sounded more like she’d just rolled out of bed after a rough night. She cleared her throat hoping that the next words that came out would sound more like Janice Freeman than anyone else.
He grinned with perfect white teeth, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle up a bit on the sides. “Hi.”
Janice couldn’t help but stare at him. The lips, the teeth, what a great smile he had. It was one that most people only dreamed of having.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
She forced herself to come to her senses. Otherwise she’d be opting for a shot of tequila at the bar across the street as she lamented him leaving her because she couldn’t make up her mind. “Let me see what you have to offer,” she said slowly.
Janice hadn’t meant for it to sound sexual, even though it certainly came out that way. And what about that moisture she could feel soaking through her panties right now? Forcing her attention to the pictures of the ice cream on the side of the truck, she looked them over.
The popsicles were in the colors of the rainbow, red, green, purple, and orange. Creamsicles had low-fat vanilla ice cream covered with orange or raspberry flavored sherbet. The Fudgsicles were chocolate heaven. He had ice cream cups, ice cream sandwiches, push-ups, snow cones. She didn’t know what to pick—smooth, creamy, or sinful.
Were those words for the ice cream or the ice cream man?
He raised his eyebrows and looked her in the eyes. “All my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy.”