100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,15

get your mate.”

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Which led to Tiffany’s current state. If someone had told her even a few months earlier she’d be squirreled up across from the Judiciary like one of the adorable little creatures she spawned, she would have laughed in their face. But here she was.

The clock in the square rang a few blocks away, and at the stroke of five, Rhys came into view. Ducking under the top of the door frame, he was flanked by some of the other brooding necros who worked alongside him. Any other group of guys getting off work might have been laughing and joking around—or, at least, smiling. This cadre looked like they were in no particular hurry to get to a funeral.

Here it is, Tiff. Now or never.

Tiffany gave her nipples a quick pinch so they’d stand up under her clingy top and then sprang from her hidey hole, putting on a stellar show of looking casual. A tiny, carefree black cloud wafting toward the thunderhead of ebony-clad Judiciary boys.

“Oh, my gosh, Rhys? Hi!” At the sound of her voice, the lean giant visibly tensed and turned to face her.

“Tiffany. What are you doing out?”

“Enjoying the day,” she said as she sidled up just a little too close. The rest of the morose little band smirked behind their hands, but she was not to be deterred. “Fancy meeting you out here.”

“I work here,” he said vaguely. Tiffany laughed as if he’d said something wildly funny, making it a point to reach out and put her hand on his.

“Of course, you do,” she beamed. “I’m just being silly. Now that work is done, you guys must be going out for drinks or something. Huh? A little bit of guy time?”

“Not exactly.” The hand went up to the back of his neck, and she wondered if he was trying to send her some kind of coded message. He did it so frequently.

“We’re not the type to hit up happy hour,” one of the other guys explained. Tiffany couldn’t be bothered to look in his direction. She just batted her eyes up at Rhys.

“Well, I am. Shame not to have any company…”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting on his feet. “That’s rough.”

“Isn’t it?” She kept her gaze fixed on his face, willing him to take her out for drinks again. Maybe even sweep her off to dinner. The invitation was not forthcoming.

“Anyway, I guess it’s been a busy week for you. Huh?”

“What’s that?”

The guys snickered again, but Tiffany ignored them.

“I’m just saying, I imagine your workload has been keeping you pretty tied up, since you haven’t been in touch.” She arched an eyebrow at that last bit, enjoying trying to figure out just what his game was. If she knocked on just the right door, the whole of him would open up to her. She was sure of it.

“I guess so, yeah.” His discomfort was evident, and Tiffany reasoned it out.

Clearly, they weren’t yet at the “meet the friends” stage of things, and she had come upon them unannounced. Despite their date, he obviously hadn’t told them all the juicy details. Because he was a gentleman. Not only that, but he kept his cards close.

“I don’t suppose you’re spoken for all weekend? Tomorrow’s Friday, and I’m completely free.” Leaning back to stretch in the sun, she offered the outline of her petite breasts to his gaze. If the other guys got a free show too… Well, that was the price she had to pay.

“Hard to say,” Rhys said quietly. “Maybe we can catch up later...” With that, he started to inch away, and his little coterie picked up the cue.

“That sounds great,” she said, falling into step with them. “I’d say we’re overdue for a nice catchup.”

“Actually,” he said, stopping his progress, “could I talk to you for a second?”

The prospect of a private word thrilled her blood. Clearly, he couldn’t ask her out in front of the guys he worked with. That would shatter his stoic image.

“Of course,” she chirped, springing alongside him on the grass. They stopped just shy of the hedge she’d secreted herself behind while lying in wait.

“Listen,” he said, looking down from his great height. “It’s actually looking like I’m going to be pretty busy for the next significant stretch. As nice as the other night was, I think we’re a long way from a repeat performance.”

“You poor thing,” she said, taking his hand and patting the back of it. It