The Seduction(5)

His gaze skims down my body, and I feel it tense under his stare. Not defensive, the way I get when Carter gives me a skeezy look, but a hot curiosity prickling in my veins.

I like the way he looks at me.

Before I can figure out what to say next, it’s my turn at the head of the line.

I pass over Carter’s order, and they start packing slim green bottles into a bag. “That’ll be a hundred and twenty dollars,” the clerk says with a perky grin.

I look through my wallet and realize with a sinking heart that I didn’t think to bring Carter’s business credit card – and my rent check just cleared, meaning there’s a grand total of fifteen bucks in my account until tomorrow.

I pause, about to explain, when suddenly a black credit card slides across the desk. “She’s with me,” the sexy stranger instructs them.

“No, I couldn’t,” I protest.

“I insist. I’ll take an OJ with that.” He signs the credit slip with a scrawl. “I’m being a better man, remember?”

“But this is too much.”

“Too late, it’s done.”

The clerk hands me the bag, and I have no choice but to take it. “Well, thank you,” I tell him gratefully. “You really saved me. My boss would kill me if he didn’t have this.”

“My pleasure.” He holds the door open for me as we exit. I catch a drift of his aftershave as I pass, a rich, masculine scent with a hint of something spicy. I’m so distracted that I don’t notice the step down to the curb. I trip, stumbling out into the street. Way to make a good impression, Fawes.

Strong arms close around me, pulling me back up.

“Easy there, ” he murmurs, crushing me tight against his solid chest. “Wouldn’t want you to take a fall.”

A strange thought floods my mind: the only falling I want to do is into his bed.

I scramble to pull myself together. “I’m fine now. You can put me down.”

“Are you sure about that?” His gaze turns hotter.

I press my hands against his chest. It’s a mistake. I feel the chiseled muscle of his pecs and have to catch my breath again, but he’s already releasing me, setting me gently on the street.

The way he’s looking at me… I can’t remember the last time a man gazed at me with such intensity. Like he sees me, really sees me -- not just as Keely, go-to girl, but as a woman.

“Be careful.” The man winks again. “ Or next time, you’ll wind up on your hands and knees.” He leans in to whisper, just for me. “Exactly where you belong.”

His words shock me, piercing the haze of desire. “What did you say?” I gasp.

“You heard me.” He tilts his head, giving me a lazy grin. “Take care, Keely.”

My head spins, as I watch him walk away. For years it’s felt like I’ve been locked in a prison of numbness, ever since my parents died. Nothing breaks through, nothing affects me. But with one brief encounter, this man has pierced my defenses. I’m reeling from his touch, his words. But he’s already disappearing down the street before I can wonder.

How does he know my name?





FOUR

VAUGHN

I throw the photos from last night across the desk at Phil Markham: my client, and an all-around chump. He’s got a beer-gut, receding hairline, and a nervous laugh that’s already driving me out of my fucking mind.

No wonder his wife got wet the minute she laid eyes on me. This guy couldn’t find his way to her clit with a fucking GPS.

“There you go.” I nod at the pictures of his wife with her legs spread, licking my cum off her own tit. It’s not artistic, sure, but it gets the message across.

His mouth drops open in shock. “Is this...” he stutters. “Did you..?”

“Fuck her, like you wanted.” I yawn. Half my clients are happy just to have the job done, but then you get guys like Phil, who wanted her to cheat -- right up until the moment she does it.

He flips through the photos, his eyes widening. “She never goes down on me.”

“Consider it a lucky break.” I remember her slobbering. “She can’t suck for shit.”

He bristles. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Your soon-to-be ex-wife,” I correct him, “who’s about to be screwed in the divorce, thanks to those. Aren’t you the one who wanted to cut her loose with nothing?”

“Well, yes, but...” Phil squints at the final photo like he wants to argue some more, but I’m already done.

“My final invoice is in the file. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Phil blusters some more about my prices, but he clears out pretty quick once I remind him about the money he’s saving on that invalid prenup. When the door closes, I sigh in relief.