the simple auditory treat while in his presence.
The intercom on her desk sounded. She started and ran to answer it, silently thanking Cynthia for her discretion. “Yes, Cynthia?”
“I have your two o’clock here, Tabitha. Mr. Vega?”
“Send him in.” Tabitha sat behind her desk and hit Escape on her keyboard.
16
Beneath the Surface
Eric strolled in just as his dossier reappeared on her screen, and Tabitha swallowed at the sight of him, suddenly wishing she had stuck with her usual formality when they’d been on the phone and kept their relationship on a strictly last name basis.
She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, especially since her own treacherous hormones already had the wrong idea and had her pussy muscles clenching in response to his tall height and broad shoulders filling the doorway as he paused on the threshold.
Instant attraction. Not only was it not good, it was unprecedented.
Tabitha stood up behind her desk and proffered a hand across the glass top as he approached, thinking Evelyn had somehow bamboozled her and that her brother’s profile did not do him a bit of justice. There was nothing about the man that needed to be “made over.”
He was inhumanly gorgeous, the black hair he had mentioned in his profile was sleek and wavy, worn in a longish but masculine and neat style combed back off his forehead and glistening beneath the fluorescent lights of her office.
Tabitha slowly moved her gaze down, taking in the aquiline nose, angular jaw, and cleft chin—the cleft he had neglected to mention in his profile as he had mentioned his dimples—immediately drawn back up to his indigo eyes, ridiculously long-lashed, so dark and intense they almost looked black.
She almost smiled when he grinned and she noticed the big dimples to which he had previously alluded, mentally taking his measurements and surprised he had been so accurate with his description. Most men—most people—boasted, overcompensated for some shortcoming or were too humble with their self-assessment. Rarely had she met anyone who’d been so accurate. Accurate and modest. God, the man can’t be this perfect!
Tabitha slid her gaze down further to take in his outfit and amended her last thought. Today was not Friday, but he was definitely dressed down.
Okay, he wasn’t perfect. Thank God for small favors.
His sense of fashion seemed to come straight from a discount store. Actually, a discount store would have been a step up. She could easily see the man perusing the aisles of a neighborhood thrift shop. Not that there was anything wrong with that. She frequented some of the better thrift shops herself when she was on the hunt for that perfect item for a client and not that his clothes were ill fitting, quite the contrary.
He had the kind of body on which clothes hung well, any clothes, pulled off the casual ragged, torn-up look with sensual style rather than coming off as a slob.
Tabitha glanced at her clock as he caught her smaller hand in his big one and gently squeezed. The resultant energy tingled all the way up her arm until she thought he had one of those practical joke buzzers in his palm, but there was nothing touching her palm except his smooth, warm skin.
He noticed the direction of her glance and grinned, showcasing those dimples to their fullest effect. “Come on now, you have to admit I’m on time.”
Tabitha arched a brow. “Just,” she said coolly.
17
Gracie C. McKeever
“Let me guess, you’re the type who turns up to all her appointments at least a half-an-hour early, am I right?”
“Why don’t you have a seat and we can get started,” she said, ignoring his quip.
That he was so on target about her was totally beside the point.
He released her hand slowly, his body heat and intensity overwhelming and invading her comfort zone so much, it made her think twice about walking across the room to close the door before she finally did just that.
When she got back behind her desk and
The intercom on her desk sounded. She started and ran to answer it, silently thanking Cynthia for her discretion. “Yes, Cynthia?”
“I have your two o’clock here, Tabitha. Mr. Vega?”
“Send him in.” Tabitha sat behind her desk and hit Escape on her keyboard.
16
Beneath the Surface
Eric strolled in just as his dossier reappeared on her screen, and Tabitha swallowed at the sight of him, suddenly wishing she had stuck with her usual formality when they’d been on the phone and kept their relationship on a strictly last name basis.
She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, especially since her own treacherous hormones already had the wrong idea and had her pussy muscles clenching in response to his tall height and broad shoulders filling the doorway as he paused on the threshold.
Instant attraction. Not only was it not good, it was unprecedented.
Tabitha stood up behind her desk and proffered a hand across the glass top as he approached, thinking Evelyn had somehow bamboozled her and that her brother’s profile did not do him a bit of justice. There was nothing about the man that needed to be “made over.”
He was inhumanly gorgeous, the black hair he had mentioned in his profile was sleek and wavy, worn in a longish but masculine and neat style combed back off his forehead and glistening beneath the fluorescent lights of her office.
Tabitha slowly moved her gaze down, taking in the aquiline nose, angular jaw, and cleft chin—the cleft he had neglected to mention in his profile as he had mentioned his dimples—immediately drawn back up to his indigo eyes, ridiculously long-lashed, so dark and intense they almost looked black.
She almost smiled when he grinned and she noticed the big dimples to which he had previously alluded, mentally taking his measurements and surprised he had been so accurate with his description. Most men—most people—boasted, overcompensated for some shortcoming or were too humble with their self-assessment. Rarely had she met anyone who’d been so accurate. Accurate and modest. God, the man can’t be this perfect!
Tabitha slid her gaze down further to take in his outfit and amended her last thought. Today was not Friday, but he was definitely dressed down.
Okay, he wasn’t perfect. Thank God for small favors.
His sense of fashion seemed to come straight from a discount store. Actually, a discount store would have been a step up. She could easily see the man perusing the aisles of a neighborhood thrift shop. Not that there was anything wrong with that. She frequented some of the better thrift shops herself when she was on the hunt for that perfect item for a client and not that his clothes were ill fitting, quite the contrary.
He had the kind of body on which clothes hung well, any clothes, pulled off the casual ragged, torn-up look with sensual style rather than coming off as a slob.
Tabitha glanced at her clock as he caught her smaller hand in his big one and gently squeezed. The resultant energy tingled all the way up her arm until she thought he had one of those practical joke buzzers in his palm, but there was nothing touching her palm except his smooth, warm skin.
He noticed the direction of her glance and grinned, showcasing those dimples to their fullest effect. “Come on now, you have to admit I’m on time.”
Tabitha arched a brow. “Just,” she said coolly.
17
Gracie C. McKeever
“Let me guess, you’re the type who turns up to all her appointments at least a half-an-hour early, am I right?”
“Why don’t you have a seat and we can get started,” she said, ignoring his quip.
That he was so on target about her was totally beside the point.
He released her hand slowly, his body heat and intensity overwhelming and invading her comfort zone so much, it made her think twice about walking across the room to close the door before she finally did just that.
When she got back behind her desk and
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