A Profiler's Case for Seduction - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,9

both from good families and took their positions as Melinda Grayson’s assistants very seriously.

Mark knew from casual conversations with several other students and staff that both Amanda and Ben worked hard for Melinda, helping her with research and the mundane tasks that a professor of Melinda’s ilk would need done. They were both bright and apparently devoted to their boss.

All thoughts of Melinda Grayson flew from his head as Dora stepped out of the building and into the afternoon sunshine. Her long legs were encased in navy dress slacks, and a feminine long-sleeved white blouse with pearl buttons emphasized her slender waist and the fullness of her breasts.

A knot of heat twisted in Mark’s stomach as her eyes indicated surprise, yet her mouth curved in a smile that drove all rational thoughts of murder and mayhem out of his mind.

* * *

Dora’s heart gave a healthy bounce in her chest. Mark was obviously waiting for her. Like yesterday he was dressed in black slacks and a white shirt and black jacket and his hair looked as if it had never met a comb or brush. Yet the messiness of those rich dark strands only added to his overall attractiveness.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, and tried to ignore her jitters.

“I was just hanging around wondering if maybe you’d like to catch a cup of coffee with me again,” he said.

Two days in a row. Dora couldn’t help the fact that his words caused a little thrill to race up her spine. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time today. I’ve got to get right to the bookstore for work.” It was probably for the best, she thought, that this casual meeting for coffee...that he didn’t become a habit.

“What time do you finish up at the bookstore this evening?” he asked, obviously unwilling to let the topic drop. Once again a small dance of pleasure kicked a jig in the pit of Dora’s stomach.

“We close the store at eight on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” she said. “We’re closed on Sundays and open the rest of the week until ten.” She closed her mouth, realizing she’d given way more information than he’d asked for and that’s why she didn’t trust herself to have relationships at this point in her life.

“So, you’ll be off at eight this evening,” he said, apparently easily picking through the minutia she’d just offered him. She nodded. “Then why don’t I meet you at the bookstore at eight and we can grab a cup of coffee or something then?”

“That sounds great.” Dora heard the words falling from her lips and knew they were probably the wrong thing to say, but she didn’t seem to have the power to stop them.

“Great!” His blue eyes glowed with obvious pleasure and his sexy smile curved his lips. “Then I’ll see you later.”

She stood stock-still as he turned and headed down the sidewalk away from her. You should have said no, a little voice whispered inside her head.

Turning in the opposite direction to head to the bookstore, she tried to list all the reasons it was wrong to have coffee with Mark again, but she kept coming up with the same defense...it was just a cup of coffee with a man who would soon be gone from town.

It shouldn’t feel as frightening, as exciting or as earth-shattering as it did. She chided herself for being so silly, for trying to make it all bigger than it was in her mind. He was an out-of-towner, with only colleagues around him every day for almost a month. Maybe he just found himself a bit lonely for regular conversation and she was convenient.

By the time she walked into the bookstore, she had rationalized it all in her mind. The first thing she always noticed upon coming in to work was the scent of the store...the smell of paper drifting in the air from all the textbooks on the shelves.

Dora loved the smell of books, the weight of one in her hand. The store sold more than textbooks and research tomes. There were T-shirts and other apparel in the school colors of red and gold, glasses and tumblers with the Darby Gladiators logos, candles and key chains and an entire assortment of candies and snacks.

“How’s it going?” she asked Kathy Taylor, a young night student who usually worked just before Dora came in.

“Slow. I’ve only sold one candle all day long. But, on the bright side, I’ve managed to use the quiet time to write a paper that needed