AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Shaking the thoughts away, I straighten up, go to the office, and start going over the chefs we’re interviewing. But it’s hard to keep my head in the game.
Not with Leland there, taunting me.
I can’t blame him for that time of hot, no-holds-barred sex with him way back when. But I can blame him for not even showing an inkling of recognition.
Then again, he’s that kind of man. A fuck and forget ’em type.
And I’m off men.
With a sigh, I buckle down to work since sleep feels a million miles away.
“Now that, right there, is a whole world of possibilities.”
The voice is smooth, rich coffee and cream. It’s a voice that haunts my dreams.
For a few seconds, I can’t think, can’t move. The pen I dropped clutched tight in my hand, jean-clad ass in the air, and a dark, wild anger fills me, making me shake.
I’d been so into work, getting ready for the next chef to arrive, that I didn’t even think when the front door opened.
But now, I know why the skittering that started plaguing me like something in the air changed just started.
Him.
Leland fucking Conley.
Counting slowly to get my heartbeat back in line, I straighten, taking a moment to adjust my T-shirt, wishing I’d gone with something more professional, like a suit of armor, and I turn. I don’t smile.
Damn but he’s a punch to the senses. Way too good-looking, way too dangerous to female libidos in a thirty-mile radius.
The sex appeal is an absolute killer.
And I know what’s under that shirt, those suit pants. The loosened tie is all sorts of hot.
I need to get it together.
“What do you want?”
“That’s a loaded question.” He leans on the counter, smiling, those amber eyes glittering.
I put my hands on my hips and his gaze drops to my breasts, making heat flare beneath my skin. “Sexual harassment is a no-go area these days.”
“I’m not harassing anyone.” He takes his time raising his gaze. “Unless of course you want me to pay you more . . . intimate attention.”
“That’s a hard no.”
He grins, and it’s the easy kind that melts ice and curls toes. “I can take you out for some drinks, show you around town. Everyone needs some friends.”
“This might be true. But not your kind.”
The grin fades. “Men?”
“You.”
“Now, Sarah,” he says, still leaning on the counter, “you don’t know me well enough to say that.”
“I know your type. And I’m not interested.” I take a breath. “I’m also busy, so—”
“There’s something about you I can’t quite put my finger on . . .”
