Bitten by Cupid(70)

“I love what I’m doing. I can’t imagine giving that up for anything.”

“The last time I left for a week, Owen nearly ran off half the staff. I know it’s hard to believe,” he added with a wry smile, “but he’s not very personable.” Cold mist hung on his words.

How unsocial was he? There were so many questions she wanted to ask but couldn’t without sounding hinky. “Is he just not good with people?”

“He’s more of a loner personality.” Adrian was being diplomatic. A good friend for Owen, not helpful for her investigation.

He reached toward her neck with one hand. She thought he might cup her cheek, which was icy cold. He held up one of her earbuds, and she heard the tinny sound of music floating out.

“What are you listening to?”

“I forgot to put them away.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I usually tuck them out of sight.” She was so used to hearing it, she hadn’t even noticed.

“I saw you coming down the sidewalk earlier, bouncing away.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t not move. I must look like a dweeb.”

“You looked charming, actually.” He tucked one of the buds into his ear. She took the other and put it in hers to see what was playing.

“Puscifer,” she said in answer to his earlier question. “I’ve gotten hooked on what I call punky alternative rock.” She gave him a serious look. “I don’t think they use cellos.”

“I doubt it.”

The song was “The Mission,” from last year and still one of her faves. She thought he might turn his nose up at her music, but he was smiling and even…yes, bobbing his head a bit.

And he was very close, his nose nearly brushing hers, his mouth only a couple of inches away. I’m too close to landing this gig to mess it up right now by kissing him, but oh my Lord, do I want to.

His gaze slipped down to her mouth but lifted back to her eyes. “I have a personal rule about getting involved with people I work with,” he said, though he hadn’t moved away.

“That’s probably a good idea.” Her breathy voice didn’t sound exactly convincing.

“I’ve worked with attractive women before. It’s never been a problem.” He lowered his head. “I’ve never wanted to break my rule before…until now. I’ve never met someone who mesmerized and enchanted me as completely as you have.”

She felt her heart hitch, but words weren’t even thinking of coming out.

“I want you to write for my magazine.”

She met his eyes, hers feeling heavy at their closeness. “I want to write for your magazine, too.”

“I want you.”

He leaned close and kissed her. First a gentle, soft kiss. He was looking at her, gauging her reaction. Okay, forget all that safe thinking, forget the ramifications. She kissed him back, closing her eyes and sinking into it. And she couldn’t hear his thoughts. No running commentary, no critiques, just her thoughts and the feeling of his mouth sliding against hers, taking his time, toying with her.

Sinking? No, she was falling. She parted her lips, and he took the invitation and dipped into her mouth with his tongue. Her heart was beating at a pulse point at her throat, and she felt a delicious thrum throughout her body. She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer. She had to lean her head back to kiss him, which reminded her how tall he was, how big and strong, and what a turn-on that was.

He slid his hand behind her neck, rubbing it in slow, languid movements. His mouth tasted fresh and minty. He must have crunched his mint, too, because she didn’t feel it as her tongue explored him. His kiss was deep and slow and playful, and she couldn’t help but think he probably made love the same way.

Groan.

The ache for a sensual touch washed over her. To be held, to feel his hands on her body, everywhere, his naked body against hers, to feel every inch of him…

Groooaaannn.

All those long-neglected parts of her body weren’t actually dead to the world like she’d thought. They sprang to life with painful heat. Would she seem slutty if she suggested they go back to his place right this second?

Yes, yes, yes…uh, what was the question?

Just as she was drowning, a picture in her mind jarred her completely out of the moment. Like the flash of a scene from a movie, she saw a woman lying naked on the floor. A dark ring of bruising around her neck. Her eyes lifeless. A lipstick kiss on the creamy white skin of her stomach. Those horrid words written in bloodred.

Oh, God. Me.

She pushed back with a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?” But he looked startled, too, as though she’d just up and smacked him in the face with her purse.