“I’ve suddenly discovered I really like tall women.”
Oh, yay!
“Any other tattoos anywhere?” he asked, letting his gaze travel across her bare shoulders and neck.
Her body reacted, her nipples hardening beneath her shirt. Feeling them scrape against the cotton, she wondered if he noticed. “No,” she said. “But I’m thinking about it. I’m not sure I’ll like my next choice once I turn seventy-five or eighty.”
He raised a questioning brow. “Next choice?”
She nodded. “Jessica Rabbit.”
When no look of understanding crossed his face, Venus gestured toward her top. If he hadn’t seen her body’s reaction to the way he’d held her foot before, he’d surely notice it now.
She tugged the cotton tight, revealing the sexy, red-haired cartoon character vamping it up on the front of her T-shirt. In a bubble above the bombshell’s head were the words, “I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way.”
Venus liked the sentiment.
“Ahh,” he said, staring hard at her shirt. His voice sounded thick. Yeah, he’d noticed.
“She doesn’t look like a rabbit,” he offered, still delicately stroking her ankle, absently caressing her calf until she nearly writhed in her chair.
“She’s, uh, not…” Venus managed to reply. “That’s her married name.”
“What about you? Are you bad? Or are you just drawn that way?”
She closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat, silently asking him to continue the tender stroking of her leg. “Maybe I’ll let you figure it out for yourself,” she murmured.
He finally let go of her foot, as if realizing they were moving really fast for a couple of people who hadn’t yet introduced themselves.
“I’ve thought about getting one,” he admitted, gently shifting her foot off his lap. Then he chuckled ruefully. “Not that anyone would believe it.”
“Why not?”
He answered with a secretive smile. “Let’s just say people see me in a certain way. A tattoo wouldn’t go with the image.”
“I know how that goes,” she muttered, not even able to count the times someone had been surprised by her intelligence, or the business sense hidden beneath the exterior package and smart mouth. “But you don’t exactly look like Mister Boring Businessman.” Gesturing toward his tanned skin, she mused, “Looks like you’re no stranger to the sun yourself.”
“I actually live on the beach in south Florida. Or rather, I did, until last week.”
“You moved here? To Atlanta?”
“Not permanently. I’m not sure where I’ll end up. I’ve recently found myself with a lot more freedom than I expected.”
She couldn’t resist. “So you made parole, huh?”
Deadpan, he nodded. “Certainly. Amazing how quickly they let us homicidal maniacs out nowadays.”
“Tell me you didn’t get sent up the river for throwing red-haired females over balconies.”
He shook his head, a twinkle in his pale green eyes. “Only natural redheads.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Whew.”
“So,” he continued. “Should I ask who you are and what you’re doing here? Or should we just leave now and go straight to…dinner?”
She liked his directness. And she suspected his pause had been quite deliberate. They’d exchanged only a few dozen sentences, but she’d mentally substituted another word for “dinner,” and she’d bet he had too. As surely as she’d bet that word was “bed.”
Venus, you swore off men, remember? Even before this whole long-lost granddaughter business.
Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care. The instant chemistry between her and the stranger was something she hadn’t experienced before. Ever.
Sure, she’d had her fair share of relationships with men. Probably enough fair shares for two or three women, if she wanted to be completely honest about it. That had been part of the reason she’d decided to take a break from them after losing her job.
Other reasons had probably included Lacey’s blissfully happy marriage. Plus Venus’s brief fling with Raul, a hunky young guy who worked with Lacey. She’d dated Raul in the brief period between dumping Dale, the loser at work, and getting paid back by him with the loss of her job.
Raul, though a good bit younger than she, had been a doll, and she’d found herself caring about him quite a lot. If he’d been older, and at a different place in his life, Venus could have fallen in love with him. But they were moving in different directions and realized they worked best as friends.
Still, having pictured love, she almost found herself wanting it. True love, marriage, the whole shebang…with the right person. Eventually. After she’d gotten over what dickhead Dale had done to her.
Eight months seemed just about long enough to get over backstabbing and betrayal. Besides, she’d missed some parts of her former lifestyle. Particularly men. Venus liked men. She liked dating. Liked going out dancing, or to ball games, or just for walks at the Inner Harbor back home in Baltimore.
And she liked sex. Really liked it. So sue me.
As much as she’d enjoyed getting to know men—usually the wrong ones—she’d never felt such an instant, sudden, overwhelming desire for one. Especially not while stone-cold sober. So she at least ought to find out his name.
“My name’s Venus,” she said. She scooted her chair closer until her bare knees nearly touched his blue trousers.
“How appropriate,” he murmured.
“I think so. You would be…”
“Troy.”
“How nice to meet you, Troy. I’d love to go to dinner with you, but unfortunately tonight’s not possible.” She gestured toward his tasteful necktie and gave him a flirtatious grin. “Besides, I’ve recently sworn off guys in ties.”
He shrugged. “Easily remedied. I’ll take it off.”
“And suits,” she said, knowing he could hear a suggestive purr in her voice.
“It can come off too.” His tone was just as suggestive.
She raised a wicked brow and glanced at the other buildings nearby. “Hmm, that could be interesting. But aren’t you worried some of these executives in their cubbyholes keep binoculars around? I know I would if you were in the habit of standing out here, taking off your…tie.”
He laughed out loud, a warm, rich laugh that rolled over her body and made her tingle. She liked the sound of it as much as she liked the curve of his lips.
Taking a deep breath, she suddenly wondered what other interesting sounds the man was capable of. Sighs. Moans. Shouts.
She nearly shuddered at the thought.
“I didn’t mean here,” he said.
She pouted. “Aww, gee.”
“Tomorrow?” he asked. “I promise not to overdress.”
Or dress at all? Oh, yes, the man knew how to play this game. But before she could go any further, she needed to find out just who he was. “So, are you here today for a meeting or something?” she asked, hearing a hopeful note in her own voice. Please say yes. She hoped like crazy that he didn’t work here, in the suite of offices used by Max Longotti’s catalog company, Longotti Lines. Because she really didn’t want to start off her relationship with her supposed/could-be/maybe grandfather