Beneath the Surface Read Online Free PDF

sat down, Eric was still standing and running a hand over the glass top admiringly, glanced up at her with a knowing look.
    “I knew you’d be a glass and chrome type.”
    Tabitha glanced at him with a start, entranced by his long fingertips stroking her desk, imagined him caressing her skin instead of the smooth cold glass, her body wantonly arched beneath his manipulations. “Excuse me?”
    “I got a definite vibe from your voice on the phone the other day.” He glanced around her uncluttered office and nodded. “Cool, Spartan, functional.”
    His matter of fact appraisal made her feel as if her character had just been attacked, that maybe she should defend herself, but he spoke up again before she had a chance.
    “Don’t get me wrong. I like the look. It suits you.”
    “Not quite an apology.”
    He arched a lush brow. “Do I owe you one?”
    “No, I suppose you don’t. You were just making an observation after all.” She leaned her elbows on the desk, folded her hands and leaned her chin on her clenched fingers as she looked at him. Two could play the intuitive game. “What type are you?”
    “Eclectic, whatever feels good at the moment.”
    “Mmm-hmm.” Just like she thought. A free spirit. He probably would have been right at home at Woodstock.
    “Is this part of the interview process?”
    “Everything you say to me here is basically part of the interview process. I get to know what you like, your general style, it helps me when I finally have to go and pick things out for you. That is, if you’re not with me at the time I make the purchases.”
    “You mean I have that option?”
    “If you have the time, of course you do. Most of my clients don’t use the option.
    Time constraints are one of the main reasons people hire me in the first place. Your time is valuable, so why not let me do what I do best while you’re using your time to do what you do best?”
    “I like that philosophy.”

    18
    Beneath the Surface
    Most men did. Most of her clients of the male, no-time-or-desire-for-frivolous-nonsense persuasion where shopping was concerned, did. Must have been something in the Y chromosome, some anti-shopping gene.
    Tabitha looked at her monitor and hit the Enter key twice to make room for additional information. “Now, you mentioned eclectic…” Tabitha paused to glimpse his outfit. Not quite as out there as some of the Woodstock fashions she had seen, but definitely unconventional for the business world in which she moved. The white T-shirt tucked into a pair of blue wash-and-wear Levi’s hinted at firm well-muscled abs that tapered down to a slim waist, would have been more suitable attire for a Grease revival.
    Same went for the black distressed leather blazer that clung to his broad shoulders and had Tabitha’s fingers itching to divest him and see if his physique was as hard as it looked.
    He had the anarchistic artist look down to a science, and she wasn’t sure yet whether or not it was a façade, or a well-honed image he’d perfected just for their meeting today, because Eric seemed like the type to go out of his way to shock.
    Eric finally took the seat across from Tabitha’s desk, resting his right ankle on his left knee and giving her a good view of a comfortable, well-worn black desert boot.
    “So, let’s get back to your sty—”
    “I don’t like suits and ties. I did the whole corporate dress for success deal years ago, and I’m not interested in reimmersing myself. What you see here is as dressy as I usually get.”
    True, the customer was always right, but Tabitha took offense at his tone, as if he was too good for a suit and she wasn’t; as if he were attacking her tastes without even knowing what she might have planned for him.
    “There are a lot of things we can do with slacks and a suit jacket that don’t involve a tie.”
    “There are a lot of things I could do with a tie that don’t involve clothes at all.”
    If she’d had liquid in her mouth, she might