Hyde, an Urban Fantasy Read Online Free PDF

likely she was to recover. Eden jumped out of her seat and followed.
     

CHAPTER IV
     
    Mitch was sitting at his desk with his lunch spread out in front of him when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”
     
    Jolie stepped partway into the office. “Mitchell? Your—”
     
    The door opened farther, allowing Mitch a full view of who was standing behind her. When the woman saw him, the color drained from her face and her jaw dropped slightly.
     
    He stood up from his chair. “Oh, shit.” And then he laughed. “Change your mind?”
     
    Jolie was probably getting dizzy from turning her head so quickly back and forth between him and the girl. Both women had the same expression of surprise, but, unlike Jolie, the supposed-sleepwalker looked like she’d flee if he blew air at her. Tempting.
     
    “Or maybe you came up with a better excuse,” he said.
     
    She looked at Jolie. “No, I’m here for . . . something else.”
     
    Jolie smashed her lips together briefly and then said, “Your one o’clock is here.” She stepped back to let the girl pass. Which she did . . . reluctantly.
     
    “Thanks, Jolie. I got this one.” Had this one, actually. Mitch sat back down and threw a few fries in his mouth as Jolie glared at him and slowly shut the door on her way out. He wondered if she’d be pressing her ear against the door. But with the shades drawn across the one-way glass walls, he couldn’t check. Not that he cared that much. Or expected the girl’s visit to be a long one. “What do you want?”
     
    She was openly gawking at him, breath shallow, one arm crossed over her chest, the other caressing her shoulder. Her gaze ran over him, then darted to the couch, giving him the feeling she’d like to see him stretched out naked on it.
     
    Flattering, but he’d learned his lesson from their last meeting. “What. Do. You. Want.”
     
    She jolted at his words, blinking rapidly and dropping her arms. Yep, he’d been right. On the couch. Naked. He could tell from the depth of her blush.
     
    “You’re the life coach?” she asked. Her voice was how he remembered it—during daylight hours—nervous and unsure. Nothing like the husky pitch she’d had the night before.
     
    A nod was all she was getting from him.
     
    She took a few steps toward him and stopped. “So what? Do you just tell people what to do?”
     
    Ah, hell. He was feeling generous. She could have another. Nod.
     
    “And they pay you for that?” She widened her stance as if she was gaining confidence and power right before his eyes. He’d fix that.
     
     “Correction. You should have said: We pay you for that.”
     
     “Not unless—”
     
    “What are you doing here?” He studied her, visions of their night together mixing with the image she presented today. It didn’t jibe.
     
    “I found this.”
     
    He took a quick glance at the small square she held out toward him, recognizing it. “Static. Where we met. Nice club. Nice napkins. Very sentimental of you, but I don’t collect crap. Is there anything else?”
     
    “I found it in my pocket this morning.”
     
    “Fantastic,” he said with a mouthful of food.
     
    “Do you know who wrote this?” She stepped forward until she was a foot away from his desk.
     
    “Wrote what?” He sighed. “Give it to me.” He put down his burger, wiped the grease off his hands with his own napkin, grabbed the thing from her outstretched hand, and read the scribble. “That’s my phone number, but I didn’t write that. The handwriting’s too girlie. Since I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here asking if you’d written it, I’ll go with ‘someone else’. Who knows, perhaps another fine lady jotted it down before you threw yourself at me. I don’t remember. Did you mug her?”
     
    “I found it in a pocket . . . of a jacket I don’t own.”
     
    “I’m confused as how this pertains to me.”
     
    “Look on the back.”
     
    He flipped the napkin over and read aloud,