Perfect Fit Read Online Free PDF

assume a ballbuster like her would prefer her coffee black, not liberally sweetened with cream and sugar.
    “You ordered a cup before we left the bar,” he reminded her and cocked his head, studying her. “There isn’t much I don’t remember about you, Rowyn.”
    Silence filled the foyer. His words dropped in her soul like a pebble in a pool of water, and unfamiliar warmth rippled out in ever-widening rings of tenderness. He barely knew her, yet he’d noticed and remembered her likes. She couldn’t even say the same about her family.
    “Well…” She cleared her throat and curled her toes self-consciously against the cool wood floor. “What are you doing here?”
    “Since this is my first time to your city, I thought I’d do the tourist thing.” He gave her what he probably considered a charming smile. And damn him, it was. “I couldn’t think of a better guide than you.”
    “What have you been smoking?” Flames rushed up her neck and singed her face as he grinned wide. She grimaced and wondered where the hell her much-lauded reserve had disappeared to.
    Rowyn had made it an art of hiding her emotions behind a wall of indifference. She’d learned long ago that if she didn’t give a reaction, people—Pamela—didn’t derive as much pleasure from needling and provoking her. So how Darius managed to slip under her defenses and wreak hell so effortlessly boggled her. “It’s a workday, in case you haven’t noticed. And that’s where I’m headed. To work.”
    “Take a day off.”
    “I don’t take days off,” she protested, balking.
    He arched a brow, and she ground her teeth together, surprised she didn’t exhale powdered enamel. God, she was beginning to hate that eyebrow.
    “There’s a first time for everything,” he replied calmly.
    “Not today there—” Darius held up a finger, and her mind blanked at the imperious gesture. She blinked. Then blinked again. “Did you…?” she sputtered. “Did you just hold up a finger on me? ” Her voice rose a decibel with each word, outrage and disbelief jacking the volume up to the no-the-hell-he-didn’t! level.
    “You’re yelling,” he pointed out.
    “Damn right,” she snarled and stabbed a finger toward the front door. “You can go now.”
    “Oh, I intend to,” Darius agreed and slid a hand in the front pocket of his black pants, the coffee he’d bought for himself held in the other. Unfortunately the loose fit did nothing to detract from the narrow waist, the strength of his muscled thighs, or the impressive bulge under the zippered panel. “As soon as you change, we’ll leave.”
    Rowyn tightened her grip on the cup while fisting her other hand down at her side. Ten, nine, eight, seven…
    “Are you growling?” That fucking brow again. By God, she was going to snatch it off his forehead!
    “I. Am. Going. To. Work.”
    “Hmm,” he hummed, lifted the foam cup to his mouth, and studied her over the lid. He sipped the coffee, the muscles of his throat working. Even the man’s Adam’s apple was sexy. “I can spend this day with you, or I could accept Daniel’s lunch invitation, followed by a round of golf. Of course, I don’t play, but I’m sure we could find all sorts of fascinating topics to discuss…”
    Rowyn had grown up with Pamela as a mother, so she understood anger. But never had she experienced the primal urge to kill. Maim. Dismember.
    “Blackmail is not attractive,” she snapped.
    “Ah”—he tapped a finger against his bottom lip—”but is it effective?” Darius smiled, and she suspected he didn’t try to conceal the satisfaction from his expression or his tone.
    He’d won this round, and they both knew it.
    “I’ll be right back.” She shot him a glare of disgust and then wheeled around to head back up the stairs, warm cup still clasped in her hand.
    And they accused her of having brass balls.
     
    ***
     
    “Admit it. You’re having a good time.”
    Rowyn slanted a glance at the man walking beside