the side. Was that woman slathered in green pudding? And was she actually licking her own arm? What kind of kinky shit was this man into? "I didn't-"
"It's all right," he said, his tone pleasant, not the least put out.
I relaxed the tense grip I had on the stack of papers/porn. "Did I damage anything important?" My god, that woman was bending over and eating from a box of Lucky Charms.
"No." He chuckled. "The most important item is still intact."
I felt a blush creep from my forehead to collarbone. I forgot Royce's implication, though, when I spotted the photo of the woman naked and spread-eagle on a lush pile of leaves.
"Here. No reason for you to do that," he said. He bent and gently swiped the items from my hands, his fingers brushing mine. "I'll get those later."
His touch startled me. Electrified me. I jolted away from him for the second time as if he were some type of radioactive waste. Turkey on rye. Turkey on rye. My hands shook as I picked up one of the photos still lying on the floor. In it, a female crouched on all fours, a pair of green cat ears peeking from her blond hair.
"It's my fault," I said, staring at the photo, "so I'll help pick up." What would I find next? Naked green mud wrestling?
"No. I mean it. That's not necessary." This time his answer was curt, almost angry sounding, and he ripped the picture away from my grip.
What had I done now?
It was then I realized exactly what I'd held. Applications from all of the women who wanted to be Mrs. Powell. No wonder he was trying to get rid of me. He didn't want me to see the naked candidates.
I uttered a raspy, embarrassed cough. "I guess this is goodbye, then." Straightening, I spun around and raced for the exit.
"Naomi?"
"Yes?" I stopped, but didn't turn back. Had he felt the same flare of awareness that had nearly incinerated me? Would he ask me out? I'd have to turn him down, of course. He was a client. Only once before had I dated a client. Richard. The effects of that relationship had taught me three valuable lessons I'd never, ever forget.
One: no sleeping with clients.
Two: no getting naked with clients.
Three: no doing the nasty tango all night long with clients.
Yet I couldn't stop the rush of pleasure that hit me at the thought that such a magnificent man might be attracted to me. Tense, I gripped the fabric of my skirt and waited for his next words.
"What's your favorite color?" he asked.
Unexpectedly, my heart sank. I admit it. I'd wanted him to ask me out. Just because I planned to say no didn't mean an invitation was unwelcome.
"Naomi?" he said again.
I realized I hadn't answered him. "My favorite color is blue. Why?"
"No reason." There was an edge of satisfaction in his voice.
I started for the door again.
"Naomi?"
I paused. Anticipation rushed through me. This was it. The next words out of his mouth would be an invitation to dinner. I knew it. I felt it. "Yes?" The word emerged as a breathless whisper.
"Don't forget your briefcase."
Chapter Three
A Tigress never lets anyone get the upper hand in a conversation; she never lets someone else have the last word. Otherwise, she becomes a receptacle for her opponent's emotional garbage.
"So, when are you going to make a move on your new boss?"
"Ha, ha," I said, giving my cousin Kera my best don't-go-there frown.
My other cousin opened her mouth to say something flippant. I knew Melody's comment would be flippant because everything out of her mouth was something only a smart-ass would say. I shot her a death-ray glare.
It worked. Actually worked. Tell-it-like-it-is Mel remained silent. Perhaps I really was getting good at that I'll-eat-you-alive expression.
I eased back in my seat. Sunlight streamed through the pink kitchen curtains, surrounding the table in a haze of warmth. The scent of coffee filled the air. As we did every Monday morning before rushing off to work, or school in Mel's ease, we sat at Kera's kitchen table, feasting (or gagging) on whatever food she had prepared.
Kera owned a catering business and was trying to put together a cookbook of fresh, exotic recipes. Normally she was an amazing cook, but those "exotic" recipes of hers were pure crap and killed all hint of her talent.
On the Kera Diet, I'd lost eight pounds. And I needed all the pounds I could get. Don't hate me, but I'm one of