“Come to my office,” I insisted. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Leona glance up at me from her chair. I kept my rapt attention on the woman, almost as if I didn’t have the option of looking away.
Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted, and she narrowed her eyes for a moment. Our gazes locked, and something warm and smooth moved through my entire body. More revitalizing than my first sip of coffee in the morning. Better than the adrenaline rush I got after completing a grueling run in the hills around my home.
She was the first one to break eye contact, letting her gaze fall to my side. “He doesn’t have a leash?”
Reluctantly, I averted my gaze from hers and looked down at my side to notice Hound sitting on his hind legs, staring up at the woman, his interest piqued. I’d venture to say he watched her in much the same way I did.
“He doesn’t bite.”
“If he has teeth, he bites,” she quickly retorted, warily eyeing Hound.
Unwittingly, I spread my lips into a smirk. “He won’t bite anything unless I tell him to.”
She eyed me curiously again.
Turning, I started for my office. “Follow me, Ms. Taylor.”
Chapter Six
Damn, he’s big.
This man has to be at least six-foot-four and the build to match that height. My first instinct was to follow him as soon as he turned, obviously expecting me to follow. I held back, instead, watching the dog at his side give me a final once over before following the man I supposed was his owner.
We continued down a long, narrow hallway. I glanced around the office, seeing several closed and open doors in either direction. Some of the wooden doors had names on them, while others were bare. The doors or my surroundings didn’t hold my attention for long.
That feat went to the man in front of me. Despite my not wanting to, I kept looking him up and down. Aside from his towering height, there’s a presence about him. As if all he had to do was walk in a room, and everyone knew he’s the guy in charge.
Ugh!I groaned inwardly, hating that his pull held any sort of attraction to me. I worked with plenty of celebrities with the same type of presence. Most of them were assholes, to be honest. They’d all gotten what they wanted, when and how they wanted it for so long, that they’d come to expect their desires to be granted to them on a silver fucking plate. After years of working with people like that, the shit gets old.
Yet, I continued to follow this man down the hall. Noting the dark brown hair that he’d pulled back and into a bun at the nape of his neck. Strangely, I found his long hair didn’t detract from the masculine vibe that rolled off of him in waves. Typically, I wasn’t one for men with long hair. Hell, I’d cut all my hair off years ago and never looked back. I’d be damned if I wanted a guy with a hair care routine more extensive than mine.
Wait… Why the hell was I daydreaming about what type of hair products this man kept in his damn shower?
“Please,” he said as he held out his arm for me to enter his office. His voice was so damn deep that that one syllable word felt as if it coated the very air around me. It electrified everything. Even the dog at his side paused, sitting on his hind legs as if given strict instruction not to move until told to do so.
Clearing my throat, I lifted my chin before passing by and into his office. I moved farther inside, glancing around, noticing the professional yet comfortable accommodations. There was a cream-colored leather couch to my left, across from a low-sitting glass coffee table with some private investigative magazines spread on top. The office was spacious, allowing for a more substantial wooden table on the opposite side of the room. To the right sat a desk with the standard leather chair behind it. There were two computer screens mounted on the desk.
I glanced around, looking at the walls where plaques noting specific awards hung. All in all, the office read just like the man who’d led me to it—accomplished.
I spun on my booted heels, sizing him up.
“You must be Micah Townsend.”
I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep the gasp from escaping when his lips slowly spread to let out the sunlight … I mean smile.
“That I am. And you are?”
“Jodi Taylor,” I responded, proud of how cool and collected my voice came out.
When I expected him to move behind his desk, he surprised me by folding his arms and moving closer. He braced himself, standing mere inches away from where I stood. I wasn’t put on the defensive, which should’ve scared the shit out of me. Anyone else, especially a man I didn’t know, who’d closed a door behind him and got that close, and I instantly started thinking of putting distance between our bodies or which part of his anatomy he left entirely vulnerable for me to attack.
Not with this guy.
Which was why I had to remind myself that I didn’t know him. I forced my legs to create space between us as I took a couple of steps back. His gaze narrowed, but barely. He noticed the move even if he didn’t say anything.
“How can I help you, Jodi?”
I blinked, involuntarily, a jolt of something crashing through me when he mentioned my first name. I stared. He was beautiful. In the manliest, rugged way, but yeah, he was beyond handsome. I found myself captivated that the brunette hair on his head didn’t match the coloring of his beard or eyebrows. His facial hair had an auburn tint to it. The thick and dark, slashing eyebrows were softened a little by the red coloring. Yet, his copper eyes gave the appearance of danger deep within their pools.
