Strong, chiseled face lined with dark stubble. Lips so full that I’d feel them long after a kiss had ended. Muscles that bulged from places that shouldn’t be legal. And eyes so blue that I could get lost in them for hours.
Oh, seriously.
I needed to get a fucking grip. It wasn’t like it had been that long since I’d had sex.
Had it?
I’d been too busy trying to climb the corporate ladder to even bother with any type of relationship. Plus, the men I worked with just didn’t do it for me. I liked them rough around the edges with a hint of beautiful underneath.
Like Morgan.
I walked into his office two days later with an envelope filled with possible suspects, copies of the emails, and other information I thought he needed.
Their receptionist spoke on the phone as I tapped my fingernails against the desk, waiting for her.
She kept holding up her finger. I looked at my watch, wondering how long I’d have to stand here.
She was a pretty little thing with long red hair that flowed over her shoulders. I hadn’t paid much attention to her when I had been there the first time. Maybe she was Morgan’s type—pretty and perky, with a natural beauty and casual attire.
“Sorry, ma’am. Can I help you?” she asked as she hung up the phone.
I righted myself, trying not to feel a pang of jealousy. “I’m here to see Mr. DeLuca.”
“And you are?” she asked as her eyes raked over my upper body.
Oh my God.Was she checking me out like I was her?
“Ms. True,” I said with an overly sweet voice.
She pushed back from the desk, popped up from her seat, and left me alone in the waiting room.
Moments later, she returned with Morgan following close behind her.
“Ah, Race.”
“Ms. True,” I corrected him, pushing my shoulder back.
His eyes dropped to my chest as he smirked. “Let’s talk in my office where it’s more private.”
I followed him to his office, staring at his ass as we walked. When he held the door open, he barely left me enough space to pass by without touching him.
My shoulder brushed against his and his scent hit me. I closed my eyes, taking in the rich cologne he was wearing, trying to memorize it.
“Please sit,” he said as he pushed the door closed with his body.
I fidgeted with the envelope as he sat across from me, leaning back in his chair. He looked handsome today, but the stubble on his jaw had disappeared.
Pity, really, because I liked how it had looked.
He placed his hands flat on the desk as he sat. “What did you bring for me?”
I blinked twice, clearing my mind before I tossed the envelope on the desk, not trusting my voice.
He glanced down. “Did you bring everything I told you to?” he asked, eyeing me.
“Yes. It’s my e-mails, including the first message I received. I erased it right after I printed it,” I said, feeling foolish, tugging on the edge of my skirt.
“Why don’t you tell me what it says?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he held the envelope without opening it.
