Page 38 of Cozen

Unsurprisingly, and despite Saturdays being the busiest for the restaurant, Chase was quick to agree. Jett was pleased.

All the while, Sargon—still attached to Jett’s side—had barely passed Cozen a glance. For that, she was grateful. She was not forced to make even more of an effort to keep her attention on Jett while he was in her presence when what she really wanted to do was feed in to the desire she felt to learn more about the dark-eyed God in the corner.

Small blessings.

Now, it was Saturday.

Cozen was left to pick a dress.

Quickly, she began to pull the curlers from her hair, and opted to settle on the purple dress. It was a bit too modest for her tastes—no low neckline, and no high slit in the skirt. It was still tight enough to say she was all woman, and with a killer pair of heels, it would do more than any other dress could have.

Her makeup was already done—a mixture of a deep maroon to accentuate her lips, and nude tones to compliment her eyes. Anything more, and she worried it might be a bit too much for a man like Jett who appeared to appreciate a more regal appearance when it came to himself.

She suspected—because men were predictable in that way—that he would also appreciate her to dress, and look, the same way. Classy, but not over the top. Stylish, but not like she walked off a goddamn runway. Simple and pretty, but not as though she could blend into the crowd with everyone else in New York.

She had to stand out, but not too much, of course. Just enough for people to appreciate. She knew all too well how men like Jett worked, and what they needed hanging off their arm.

Some people called those kinds of women arm candy.

Their men preferred assets.

Cozen wasn’t keen on being called, or seen as, anyone’s asset, but whatever. It was for the job—she would do damn near anything for the job.

As long as it got done.

She had just slipped on a pair of black peep-toe pumps with a six-inch heel when a knock echoed on the door of her apartment. She moved swiftly through the apartment, and ran her fingers through the loose curls to open them up a bit more along the way.

Cozen didn’t bother to check the peephole—Jett had said he would send someone to pick her up, and according to the clock, they were right on time. She just pulled the door open, and then damn near tripped over her own feet at the sight of the man waiting behind it.

Sargon.

He wasn’t looking at her at first, instead staring at the eighties carpet in the hallway that greatly needed to be replaced. But then he lifted his head, and those amber eyes burrowed into hers with some kind of hell waiting behind them.

Jesus.

He was still cut-from-stone.

Still bad for her body.

Still distracting.

“You look lovely,” Sargon said, smiling crookedly.

“You haven’t even looked at anything other than my face. How do you know I look lovely?”

Cozen should have just taken his compliment, and shut her fucking mouth. Instead, she gave him an opening to peruse her dress and body without concern of being ashamed that he was doing so. And Sargon did just that, too.

His gaze traveled down her bare throat, over her dress, lingering on her breasts, and hips, and then down her legs to her heels. He didn’t hide the way he lingered there, either.

Definitely a leg man.

It made a shiver crawl up her spine with damning intent. Devastating and wonderful, it coated her nerves with a lustful need, and threatened to derail everything she was working for.

Goddamn him.

As fast as he had looked her over, Sargon came back to meet her gaze with a slow, sensual smile. “As I said, Cozen, you look lovely.”

“Thank you,” she managed to say.