Her hips swayed, and he had to work hard to keep his jaw off the floor. The way she moved in those heels and short skirt could do wicked things to weak men. She was everything he liked in a woman—small, blonde, hot, kinda dark and weird. But, alas, it was never meant to be. She was living happily ever after with his direct supervisor. And no matter how hot he thought she was, he could never give her anything like what she had with Dean. Their relationship was a constant source of awe, and if he wanted to be honest with himself, envy too. Sure, he’d show her a great night, but in the end, it would always be just one night. That was the simple reality of his life.
He dragged his gaze away and quickly joined her by her side. If she caught him gaping at her, she’d probably give him another black eye for his trouble. “I saw the latest edition of KLIVE,” he said as they descended the stairs. “It was awesome.” KLIVE was a gothic-styled web comic Kat wrote and illustrated about a chain-smoking, alcoholic, homicidal bunny working in customer service. He never missed an episode. She had a twisted sense of humor. “But did he really kill Drizz? I can’t believe he’s gone. He was such a good sidekick.”
Kat beamed at him. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”
They arrived on the first floor and headed for the meeting rooms. The Conservatory was on the right side of the building, a pleasant, airy room done in shades of tan and ivory. A silver tray sat on the conference table with a full French press of quality coffee, cups, spoons, a bowl of sugar packets and artificial sweeteners, and a small decanter of cream. That kind of attention to detail was one of the many things he liked about working at Sharpe Designs, and one of the things that continually pleasantly surprised him.
Kat settled down next to him on the same side of the conference table, their backs to the bookshelves lining the west wall of the room. She pointed to his eye. “Did you win?”
“I did,” he said with a grin. He could tell people that all day and never get bored.
“Dean and I want to be at the finals. When is that happening?”
“Two weeks. At a gym downtown. I’ll email you the details when I get back to my desk.”
“We’ll be there.” She gave him a wide smile. “I can’t wait to see you fight.”
The door opened, and Ryan and Kat rose to their feet as the receptionist showed in a well-dressed woman. She was tall, probably around five-eight or five-nine, wearing a sleeveless black silk shirt with a scooped neckline. Her long, rich brown hair was pulled away from her heart-shaped face, the ends curling around the swell of her breasts. Her skirt was black and white, simple and elegant, her shoes designer flats.
“Hi,” the woman said, leaning over the table to shake their hands. “I’m Grace Betancourt.”
Ryan took her hand, instantly captivated by the spray of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose, the small dimple in the corner of her cheek. Cute, definitely cute. “Ryan Granger.” He gestured toward Kat. “And this is Kat Greer.”
With the introductions out of the way, everyone sat at the conference table, ready to begin. Ryan caught Grace’s eye and a sharp, electric spark of attraction hit him square in the gut. It was a feeling he knew well. Chemistry. And all the right kinds.
“Coffee?” Kat asked, depressing the plunger on the French press.
Grace smiled, lighting up her aquamarine eyes. The color reminded him of the water in the Caribbean, a sight he’d seen on a Spring Break trip long ago. She was very attractive. And in a totally different league than the women he usually hit on.
“That’d be great,” she said to Kat and then glanced over at him again. Yes, there was something there between them for sure. He could all too easily imagine breathing in the scent of skin right at the hollow of her throat. She probably smelled of roses, maybe even lavender. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I had to be downtown to meet with my agent today, and I decided to see if you were free.” She grinned. “I never expected to actually get in.”
That smile just about killed him, and Ryan crossed his legs beneath the table. His priorities were fucked. He needed to refocus. This woman was his client. His first client. He needed to do this right. That wasn’t going happen if he spent all his time thinking of ways to sleep with her. He cleared his throat, opened a fresh page in his notebook. “It’s great to meet you, Grace. Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself and what you’re looking for.”
“Right,” Grace said, hooking her hair back behind her ears. Ryan got a better glimpse of her rounded cleavage and had to quickly look away. “I just signed a new contract for a cozy mystery series—a four-book deal.” Her eyes glowed. “I just had a basic website before with my contact information and not much else. But now I need something that’s going to attract some serious traffic.” She sat up, and there was determination in her posture, a steel in her spine, which only made him want her that much more. “I need to sell some books.”
Kat propped her pad up against the rim of the table and picked up her pencil. “Tell me about your series.”
“It’s called The Georgica Pond Mysteries, and it’s about Mia Keller, a former investment banker who leaves Manhattan to open an inn out in the Hamptons.” She tilted her head from side to side, seeming to find the description amusing. A tinge of a blush shaded her cheeks. “On the side, she solves crimes.”
Kat looked up from her notes. “What kind of body count are we talking about here?”
Grace sipped her coffee, thought it over. “At least one dead per book, but usually it’s two. The most I’ve ever had was six.”
Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a lot of people dying in the Hamptons.”
Grace favored him with a smile that did terribly wonderful things to his libido. “It’s a dangerous place.”
Kat tapped her pencil against her lips, a faraway look in her eyes. “The creepiest thing happened to me last night. I don’t think I can use it, but you might be able to.”
Grace put her coffee aside, giving Kat her total attention. “I’m interested.”
Kat learned across the table toward Grace. “My boyfriend and I have this wireless printer in our bedroom, one we use mostly for non-work related stuff, so it doesn’t get turned on all that often. Last night, in the middle of the night, it came to life. It was probably just updating itself or something like that, but it woke me up. I laid in bed, in the dark, listening to the cartridges scrape and the wheels turn, just like they do right before they’re about to print something.” Kat gave an exaggerated shiver, but Ryan could see the delighted gleam in her eyes. “While it was doing its thing, I realized I had left my laptop in the living room. All I could think about was what if there was some stranger in the other room, using it to send me some kind of crazy message through the printer. I freaked out a little bit, thinking of the things it might say. Stuff like, ‘I see you’ or ‘You’re pretty when you sleep’. I think it would be a great riff on the whole, ‘the phone call is coming from inside the house thing’. ” She held Grace’s eyes. “You know what I mean?”
Grace grinned like a mad woman. “That’s a really good idea. Maybe not so much the horror story aspect, but maybe the killer could be sending notes, taunting her through the wireless printer. Or maybe he could even send her pictures.” She sat back in her seat and nodded. “I like it. Can I steal that?”
“Of course,” Kat said. “But you have to dedicate the book to me.”
“That’s a deal,” Grace replied, and the women laughed together. Ryan knew that he should not be fascinated by their conversation. It was morbid and kind of sick. But he liked it. A lot.
“So, the Hamptons,” Kat said, picking up her pad once again. “And murder. Is it glamor or is