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The sound of her name uttered in his rich, deep voice was enough to rock her off her tentative foundation of determination. Her name in his voice invoked a field of her namesake flower, rich and lush and purple, more sensuous than she could ever remember it being said, and she forced herself to swallow down her disappointment.Stupid, so stupid. “Thanks again for that, you really didn’t need to . . .” His hands hadn’t fully relinquished control of the steaming cup, even though her small fingers had already curled around the heat guard, and the brush of his skin, so soft and warm, made her quiver.

He hummed, a deep vibration of air she felt in her own lungs, unable to force her pinky—the same one that had slipped into his foreskin, caressing his cockhead from within, making him groan in pleasure—away from where it pressed against his thick fingers, unsure if the heat she felt came from the hot cup of coffee or from his skin.

“Like I said, I wanted to. Would you care to—”

“Well, there’s someone waiting for me, so I should let you get back to work.” The words came out in a tumble, not realizing she’d spoken over him until they were already out, unsure of what he’d been saying. The cup was relinquished fully, surrendered to her waiting hand, although he did not back away.

“Lunch date?”

There was an edge to the thunderclap, and his eyes seemed to bore into hers, holding her captive in their chocolate depths.What difference does it make to him?she thought, jutting out her chin defiantly. “Exactly.”

Neither of them had moved a muscle, but it suddenly seemed as if a lake of distance separated them, the warmth in his eyes shuttering, pushing her out to stand on a far-off shore. “Then I ought not keep you.” He straightened, his posture seeming a fraction tighter than it had only a moment before. “Until this afternoon . . . Violet.”

She had no idea how she managed to prevent her knees from buckling as she wove through the bodies, feeling the heavy weight of his eyes on her back until she turned the corner, heading to the side wall. Geillis sat with her untouched Earl Grey steaming before her, her mouth slightly open as she gaped. “Who wasthat?”

“W-what?”

“Don’t what me like a fish, who was thatdeliciousslab of beef?”

The realization that her friend had seen her talking to him, to Rourke, made her cheeks heat again.So much for this being a perfect day.“Just a client,” she grumbled, glaring down at the latte, still feeling the phantom brush of his fingers against her own. “No one important.”

The vampire laughed incredulously, shaking her bleached head. “luvvie, come off it. That wasnot‘just a client.’ I was coming out of the loo while you were standing there mooning at each other like it was a private suite.”

Violet glared at her friend’s knowing smirk and laughing eyes. “What were you doing in the bathroom?” she demanded, attempting to turn the conversation around. “Do vampires evenneedto use the bathroom?”

“No, uh uh, that’s not going to work. We can discuss the intricacies of the vampiristic lifestyle and the maintenance and upkeep of an asymmetrical haircut another time. I want to hear about that big, sexy friend of yours. He quite gave me the shivers! Looks like the type that might enjoy taking you over his knee if you’ve been a naughty girl, if you know what I mean.”

The image Geillis’s words put in her head—one of her, wearing her best interview outfit, the slim-fitting pencil skirt down around her ankles along with her panties, the red outline of his hand stinging her still-jiggling ass cheek as she splayed over his knees; the solid, steel shape of his erection pressing through his perfectly tailored trousers—made her drop her head to the table with an audible thunk, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she had just stayed home today.You should call the office and tell Donnaxa you’re feeling sick. It’s only him and two other clients you’d be missing, and then tomorrow put in an availability change.

“He’s not anyone,” she insisted from the crook of her elbow, still feeling the weight of his hand at her back.Rourke. “He’s no one important.”

“Mhmm. Methinks the lady doth protest a bit too bloody much, but we’ll let it slide . . . for now. I can promise you he won’t be ‘nobody’ for long.”


Tags: C.M. Nascosta Cambric Creek Fantasy