She attempted an air of nonchalance. “Lots of people have similar voices.”
“True. But I have an ear for them. And yours is unique—smoky with some rasp in it. I like it.”
Somehow the simplest, most innocuous words sounded illicit rolling off his lips. I like it sounded like I’d fuck you in her head. Paired with his intent focus, she was fighting hard not to squirm in her chair. She cleared her throat. “A voice fetishist. That’s new.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Dammit. Nighttime Oakley was not supposed to make an appearance at the day job. She worked hard to keep them separate.
Pike chuckled, the sound rich and full, like cashmere brushing over bare skin. “Maybe I am. Kind of comes with the territory.”
Territory? That’s when it clicked.
She should’ve pinned it from the start. Tattoos. Piercings. Attitude. She’d known enough of the type to last her a lifetime. Distaste filled her. “You’re a musician.”
He eyed her. “Wow, clearly, you’re impressed. You look like you just smelled something bad.”
“It’s not …” But it was, and she didn’t know how to finish the sentence without sounding even ruder. She picked up her phone and hit a button.
Tessa answered on the first ring. “What’cha got for me?”
“Was just checking to see if you’re done with your meeting. There’s a guy here to see you—a mister … Pike.”
“Seriously?” Tessa said, triumph in her voice.
“Uh … yeah.”
“Amazing. Bonus points to my brother-in-law. He actually got him here.”
Pike reached over the counter and plucked a butterscotch from Oakley’s candy dish. She gave him a you’re-invading-my-personal-space brow lift, but Pike only grinned and dragged the wrapped candy between his teeth to suck it out of the cellophane. Obscene. Especially when he didn’t look away from her the whole time. Her body stirred in a way it hadn’t in longer than she could remember. Very, very stupid thoughts entered her mind.
She smoothed her lip balm and tried to tamp down her body’s ridiculous response. Maybe she had some genetic malfunction. This was exactly the type of guy who shouldn’t flip her switch. She’d already been burned by this kind of wildfire. No, not burned. Incinerated. “Would you like me to send him back?”
“Sure, that’d be great,” Tessa said, the sound of shuffling papers in the background. “Is Ella coming in to relieve you this afternoon?”
“She should be here any minute.”
“Great. Because there’s something I need to run by you after my chat with Pike.”
“No problem. I’ll be in the music room when you need me.”
She exchanged a quick good-bye with Tessa and set the phone in its cradle. Pike was still half-draped on her counter, making everything smell like butterscotch and male arrogance. Damn but she needed to get this man away from her.
“Mrs. Vandergriff is available now. I need to get a copy of your ID before you can go back there, though.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her his driver’s license. Pike Ryland. So he did have a last name.
She ran it through the small desktop scanner and handed the card back to him. “Just go through that door. Her office is the last door on the right.”
He tucked his wallet back into his pocket, which made that worn T-shirt stretch tighter across his lean chest. “You’re not going to escort me back there? I may get lost or violate privacy laws or something. Plus, you never gave me that tour.”
His tone was teasing, playful, but there was a dare in those wicked eyes. She pretended to busy herself with the papers in front of her. “I can’t leave my desk until someone else covers it.”
He glanced behind him. “It doesn’t look like there’s a line forming to get in or anything.”
“Someone could come in.”
He rolled the candy in his mouth. “You always so strict about following the rules, Miz Easton?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know why she was being so bullheaded about it. She could leave her desk for a few minutes if she needed to. One of the volunteers could watch the front. But Pike’s presence had her off balance, and she didn’t want to extend that feeling any longer.