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“What’s the address?”
“Number 3, Bull Rush Close. Why do you ask?”
He chuckled. “Slap bang in the middle of marsh folks’ land. Chock full of damp, right?”
“Understatement.” She laughed.
“I had a school friend who lived in the marshlands,” he mused.
“Oh, really?” It was weird to think of Tor as an orcling splashing around in this part of town.
“Yeah, I hated visiting him. The damp seeped under your skin. Sleepovers were killers. I always came home with a freakin’ cold. You want me to come and get you?”
“No… my car’s here.”
“Okay, I’ll see you at Sweet Clams. I’ll be at a table out the front.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Shona tried to ignore the pitter patter of her heart as she crammed her pen and paper into her work bag and pulled off her other boot. Her pants were sodden, and she knew when they dried, the seawater would leave salt marks all over them. Damn.
She’d packed a little sundress, a tiny scrap of bright cotton with thin straps, for no real reason other than…
Admit it, you wanted an excuse to wear it.
But she couldn’t, it wouldn’t be professional.
Could she?
She grimaced as she walked to her car, her pants clinging to her legs with every step. This was simply too uncomfortable. And she was sure she smelled vaguely fishy.
It was a warm day. Oh, to hell with it. The marsh grasses grew high on all sides of the road, no one would see her. Grabbing her little dress from the back seat, she dipped down between the door and the car and wriggled out of her suit pants, took off her jacket and blouse.
Then tugged the little scrap of cotton over her head.
It barely skimmed the top of her thighs and showed off way too much cleavage to be considered a work outfit.
She finger-combed her hair. The moisture in the air had made it curl a little, and it fell in unruly waves around her shoulders.
Checking her reflection in the rear-view mirror, she smirked at her flushed cheeks and plump lips. Her too bright eyes.
Very professional. Not.
Well, she reasoned, Tor had told her to dress casual.
Sure, but right now, she looked more like she was asking to be fucked.
A snorty giggle escaped her.
Honestly, she’d been a mess since she’d met this damn orc. It was like he’d taken her and swung her round and round like one of the merry-go-rounds she used to love playing on as a kid.
With a little huff, she threw her work clothes in the back seat, messaged the sea urchin a total lie. “Very saleable property. I’ll have it on the market by Friday,” and then drove the short distance to the port.
It didn’t take long to find Sweet Clams. She could see the line of folks, an array of monsters and a few humans outside the little bay-windowed building, looking incongruously cute set in among the shipping containers and cranes of the port.
She held her purse in front of her bare legs and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before sashaying toward the café.
And that’s when she saw him, lounging outside at one of the tables, his huge frame taking up most of the space outside the café. Big thighs spread as he sprawled out, utterly sexy and raw and inviting. He looked up from his phone and spotted her, and the expression on his face… Oh my.
