Something primal inside her responded to him
instinctively though. His sandpaper voice, every word on the verge of a growl,
had sent tingles through her, and when he’d grasped her hand, she’d had to back
away to keep from being sucked in; the latter was not an option. She’d fought
too hard to crawl out from under her father’s thumb, and she wasn’t about to
end up running from everything she’d built. And
what kind of teeth were those? He had pearly whites, but they were all
pointed, as if he’d had them filed down and sharpened.
“Want me
to see you out, Ms. Bates?” James asked, interrupting her thoughts. He stood in
the doorway, glancing around the office, a quizzical look on his weathered
face.
“Uh, no.
Thanks, James, but that won’t be necessary.” She smiled, attempting to put him
at ease. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed that controlling hooligan to upset
her so easily. She also couldn’t believe Cindy had neglected to tell her Mr.
DuMont was like hot sex on a big stick.
The
moment she’d spotted him, she’d wanted to melt and climb up his big, hard body
or climb him and then melt. Either way, climbing and melting would have been
involved, and quite a bit of panting. He had dark hair, just a bit too long to
be respectable, was nearly basketball star tall, and was equipped with
shoulders made for clinging, if she’d
been into that sort of thing. But it was his eyes that really did it for
her—stormy, gray with impossible, sultry black lashes. Visions of pouring rain,
earth-rattling thunder, and her limbs wrapped around his powerful body flashed
into consciousness.
How could someone who looked that good make me
want to slap him so quickly? Nobody interrupts me! If
Richard Bates hadn’t taught her anything else, it was to command respect.
Putting a potential client out of her office might have been a tad over the
top, but at that moment, it was an act of self-preservation.
Her body
reacted with a pleasant sizzle that tingled from her breasts to her core, just
thinking about his eyes again. He’d been wearing a metal pin
on his lab coat with his name engraved on it, and he’d said something about
taking off work to see her. He must be
capable of being somewhat civil to keep a job in the medical field, doesn’t he?
That voice of his wove magic along her spine with every word he’d spoken,
despite his bad manners.
Steph
shook her head, grabbed her purse and briefcase, and stepped onto the elevator.
Cindy had warned her that the residents of Wild Lands were a strange lot. If his teeth hadn’t been so white, she
might not have noticed them, but it was almost as if he’d flashed them at her; that alone made her
wonder what was going on out there. She chuckled. Well, it is called the Wild Lands, probably for
good reason, she mused. And why the hell am I still thinking about him anyway?
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