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The shop's bell dings. My client. There isn't time to flirt, but I don't put my phone away.

Imogen: I am on my way to swim laps. But if I ask for the picture later, I expect it.

Patrick: I don't have a pic in a swimsuit.

Imogen: You could always send less.

Patrick: Really?

Imogen: If I ask. I'll be home in an hour and a half, give or take. Free in two. Jade might be home, but…

Patrick: Text me when it happens. I'll reply when I can. At work.

Imogen: Tease.

Patrick: Always.

I put my cell away; I greet my client; I fall into the rhythm of work.

A badass hammerhead shark.

A small Latin quote.

A musical note behind a woman's ear.

I don't listen to my clients' stories the way I usually do. I talk to them, yeah. I set them at ease, distract them as well as I can, but I don'thearthem.

My thoughts are too tuned to Imogen.

What does she think about while she swims? What she wants to do to me? What inspired her to readThe Bell Jar?

I want to know everything.

All of it.

Finally, I find a twenty-minute break. I stand, stretch, text Imogen.

Patrick: Please.

Imogen: Ten minutes. And I need the magic word.

Patrick: Pretty please.

Imogen: Guess again.

Patrick: Avocado?

Imogen: Bingo.

A laugh spills from my lips.

Luna taps her fingers against the counter. Loudly. She clears her throat even more loudly.

"Yes?" I slide my cell into my pocket. Check the time on the wall clock. Ten minutes. I don't need lunch on my break. I need this. I can go hours without food if I have this kind of nourishment.

"Is that Imogen?"

"Why do you ask?"


Tags: Crystal Kaswell Romance