He was promising—or at least, his bank account was.
So, despite the rough start to my morning, I took a moment to double-check my lipstick and straighten my shirt before heading for the lobby.
The soles of my strappy Gucci sandals clacked against the floor, the four-inch heels boosting me from a modest five foot four to five foot eight. Even so, I often felt short in this town of unnaturally beautiful and ridiculously tall models and actors.
A tall, blond man stood in the lobby with his back to me. His gray pinstripe suit framed his shoulders nicely, emphasizing their square shape. And it tapered toward his narrow waist, making room for his thick thighs. He had an exceptional body, and he knew how to dress it. It helped when you had money—as evidenced by the expensive material of his suit and the designer leather shoes that adorned his feet.
My body tingled with awareness, like the way your skin prickles just before it rains. My dad had always told me he could feel a storm coming. The temperature would drop, the wind would pick up, then—
Bam! The man turned, and I found myself peering into a pair of familiar icy blue eyes. My heart slammed into my ribs, stopping, stuttering, starting again as if I’d been struck by lightning.
“Target Guy,” I blurted, ignoring the way Rita watched us curiously.
“I do have a name.” Everything about him was predatory, from the smile that graced his ridiculously handsome face to the way he stepped forward, as if stalking me.
“Lauren Clarke.” I extended my hand to shake, trying not to visibly react, even as every nerve ending in my body pinged with awareness.
I couldn’t believe it was him. And I could remember the last time he’d said those words to me, the scent of his cologne as he’d leaned in. The feel of his scruff against my neck.
My knees wobbled. But he was there to steady me, grasping my hand in his. He leaned closer, consuming my space, my air. Making it difficult to breathe. Stealing the air from my lungs like he’d stolen the wine from me the night we’d met.
“Hunter Pruitt.”
Target Guy, and apparently, my new client.
We stared at each other a moment, hands still clasped before I dropped mine and backed away. “Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea? Whiskey, even?”
His voice was low in my ear when he spoke, his words intended only for me. “You know what I want, and it wasn’t one of the items listed.”
I squeezed my thighs together, shocked by his unapologetic manner. His blatant desire. It was harder than you’d think to find a man with a filthy mouth, and I liked it. No, I loved it.
Rita had returned to her desk, but I sensed her watching us. When I glanced over at her, she ducked her head and started typing. Probably just tapping on the keys so it would sound like she was doing something.
“How did you find me?” I asked, still shocked to see him, especially in my office, of all places.
Hunter. I had to remind myself that his name wasn’t actually Target Guy, as I’d been calling him in my head. Or even Mr. Magnum, as he’d suggested that night at the bar. It was Hunter.
Hunter Pruitt.
Now why did his name sound familiar?
“Believe it or not, I’m in the market for an interior designer. I recently purchased a home in the Hills, and I’m tired of eating my dinner on crates.”
I wondered how old he was and where his wealth came from. He seemed young but not young enough to be in college as I’d joked that night at the bar. Though…Alexis’s boyfriend Preston was still in college, and he was twenty-six. But that was due to special circumstances.
“And out of the hundreds of designers in the area, you just happened to select me?” I was skeptical this was nothing more than a coincidence.
He lifted a shoulder. “What can I say? The universe clearly wants us to be together.”
“Worktogether,” I clarified.
“Precisely. Now about those crates…”
“You weren’t joking?” I laughed, feeling more relaxed now that we were back to discussing business. “Oh dear. We really do have our work cut out for us. Come on back,” I said, gesturing in the direction of my office.
Rita shot me a look filled with questions, a look of warning, but I ignored her. Besides, Hunter made it nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. It was as if his presence sucked all the energy from the room, funneling it directly to him. I wasn’t sure I’d ever met someone so charismatic. And I’d met plenty of celebrities living and working in this town, decorated a number of their homes, too.
I opened the door to my office, and Hunter placed his hand on the small of my back. I shut the door behind us, closing my eyes for a moment before turning to face him. I couldn’t believe he was here. Why was he here?
