“Take it easy on her.” Erik shook his head even as his chest constricted at Jeremy’s description of his and Camille’s past. Because Erik couldn’t help himself, he returned his gaze to the lobby and the sexy as hell pain-in-his-ass in it. As he watched, Camille walked over to the front desk and picked up her cell phone. A frown creased her brow as she answered it. Now, he frowned as her body stiffened and then she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. What the hell was going on? “I have to go. Later.”
Before his friend could reply, he ended the call and pulled open the entrance door. Without glancing at the clients sitting on the couches, he strode directly to Camille.
“I understand. Well, let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.” She paused and a spasm of emotion he couldn’t quite decipher passed over her face. “Thank you for that. I’ll get back to you.”
She lowered the cell from her ear and tapped the screen, but instead of setting the phone on the desk, she stared at it. But her shoulders were damn near riding her ears.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, no preamble.
“Nothing.” She tilted her head back and smiled at him.
And he narrowed his eyes.
“Try again. If you didn’t look like you’re chewing rocks it might’ve worked. Now, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me ‘nothing.’”
A gleam sparked in her chocolate brown eyes.Thank fuck. Anything was better than the dull sheen that had darkened her gaze.
Her smile widened, damn near showing every tooth in her mouth. Too bad she looked like she wanted to take a bite out of him.
A bolt of lust ricocheted through him. Not that he’d mind her teeth on him.
“Nothing.”
They stared at one another for several moments like prizefighters getting ready to throw down in the ring.
Yeah, screw this.
“Jake,” he called out over the sound of buzzing tattoo machines, Megan Thee Stallion and talk.
“Yeah?” Jake yelled from behind the wall that separated the front space from the tattooing area.
“Keep an eye on the desk for a few minutes, yeah?”
“You got it.”
Returning his attention to Camille, Erik jerked his chin.
“Let’s go to my office. Unless you prefer to have this conversation with an audience.”
As if she just remembered where they stood, she noted the three customers perched on the couches. The three customers avidly staring at them.
“After you,” she ground out.
With grim satisfaction, he headed for his office, Camille following closely behind him. And if he heard “asshole” mumbled under her breath, well, it wasn’t the first time he’d been called that...today.
He opened the door and stepped aside to let her enter first. Big mistake when her scent—something that reminded him of apples and soft rain after a furious storm—assailed him, stirring warring but compatible desires to feast on her and wrap his body around hers, sheltering her, comforting himself.
He shook his head. Hard. The first desire he understood. He hadn’t lost his love of fucking along with the life he’d left behind in Vegas. But that just as elemental, pulling need to protect and to be cared for in return? That was new. He hadn’t wanted that in years. Three to be exact.
“You know this is unnecessary, right?” Camille spun on the heels of her cherry red stilettos—whoever sold those to her should either be shot or awarded a badge of honor, he wasn’t sure which—and faced him as he shut the door. “And overstepping. I work here, but that doesn’t give you access to my private life.”
He crossed his arms, mimicking her stance. And cocked his head. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over these past few weeks, it’s there’s nothing easy about you. But, Camille, I saw your face, your whole damn body change when you answered that phone. And not for the good. Since this happened in my shop and could affect your performance, then it’s my business.”
“That’s a bit of a reach.” Her lips twisted.
He shrugged.
After several moments, she sighed and threw her hands up. “Fine.” She shook her head then tipped it back, blinking up at the ceiling. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I must be desperate.”
