The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,17
voice projection.”
“I guess that makes sense,” he said, but his rigid body posture screamed that he didn’t want her anywhere near his abdominals.
“There’s no need to feel uncomfortable. I’ll refer you to see my cousin Pia. She has an interest in dialect coaching too.”
“Thanks,” he said, some of the tension holding his shoulders rigid easing. “Sorry for sounding like an idiot, but I was expecting a guy, and seeing you here threw me.”
“I go by Sam professionally, something I started when I left uni,” she said. “And you’re not the only one who’s stunned.”
Their gazes locked, and a flash of heat so powerful lit Samira from the inside out, making her fingers curl into her palms to stop from pressing her hands to her burning cheeks.
The corners of his mouth curled upward. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something?”
“Yeah, don’t have casual sex.”
She sounded brusque, almost prudish, and inwardly cursed her inability to flirt. Not that she should flirt with him. Though technically, he wasn’t a client . . . once she fobbed him off onto Pia. Because no way in hell could she work with this guy. Every time he looked at her, she had erotic flashbacks of his mouth, his tongue, his hands . . .
“As I recall, the sex was pretty spectacular.”
His mouth eased into a wolfish grin that made the heat in her cheeks intensify.
“So spectacular you ran out before I could wake,” she said dryly, wondering in what kind of universe the hottest guy she’d ever met, and had sex with, showed up at her workplace.
She didn’t believe in karma like her mom did. Perhaps she should. That way, Avi’s pecker would’ve fallen off around the time he got that nineteen-year-old pregnant and ruined their marriage.
A strange expression flitted across his face, part embarrassment, part regret. “I contemplated leaving my number on that note.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I—I don’t have time for a relationship.”
Admiring his honesty when most guys would’ve lied, she snapped her fingers. “Turns out, neither do I.”
He squared his shoulders and eyeballed her. “But I’m totally available for booty calls.”
She laughed at his boldness. “I might take you up on that, if you’re lucky.”
“You do that.”
Before she could move, his hand snaked out to capture hers, his thumb stroking the back of it in slow, sensual sweeps that made her sigh.
“I’ll be honest with you. I’ve got a major audition coming up, which is why my agent booked me in to see a dialect coach. And I’m hectic with this kids program I’m helping set up, so I don’t have a lot of downtime at the moment.”
His thumb swept over the underside of her wrist, like he was testing her rampaging pulse. “But that night we hooked up was beyond hot, and I’d like to do it again.”
Excitement streaked through Samira’s body, and it took every ounce of willpower not to march over to the door and flick the lock. And when he picked up her hand, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to her palm, she moaned.
“We can’t do this here,” she murmured, wishing with every cell of her horny body that they could.
“I know.”
He curled her fingers over her palm, as if to treasure that sexy kiss, and released her. “If you could send through that referral to your cousin, that’d be great.”
“Okay. Give me a sec.”
Somehow, her legs worked in sync with her befuddled brain as she crossed the room to her desk and picked up the phone. When she risked a glance over her shoulder, Rory stood where she’d left him, grinning at her with the confidence of a guy who knew exactly how much he rattled her.
When Pia answered, she put on her best professional voice. “Hey, Pia, I have a client here who needs some dialect coaching. Can you see him?”
“Isn’t he booked in to see you?”
“Yes, but there’s a clash.”
“I see.”
Pia’s silky tone alerted her to the fact her cousin had seen right through her invented excuse. “I’m free now, so sure, I can see Rory Radcliffe, but rest assured, Cuz, once he leaves, you and I are going to have a little chat.”
“Thanks, I’ll send him out to you,” she said, hanging up before Pia could say anything else.
Surely her cousin couldn’t have figured out Rory Radcliffe was the Rory she’d praised for his exceptional prowess? There were thousands of Rorys in Melbourne, but by Pia’s tone, she knew.
Flummoxed by this all-around bizarre day, Samira swiveled to face