No Peeking.... Stephanie Bond

have a visitor. Dominick Burns?”

      Violet frowned. “I’m scheduled to stop by his office in Buckhead this afternoon for our weekly conference.”

      “He said he was in the area and that he’d wait.” Lillian lowered her voice. “He’s rather handsome. And he asked for a vodka tonic.”

      Violet rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a bar in my office. Get him a cup of coffee and I’ll be there in five minutes.”

      She checked her hair and makeup in the mirror, telling herself she’d do the same for any client. She smoothed a couple of errant hairs that had escaped her standard neat ponytail—the ponytail that Dominick Burns teased her about. Her black pantsuit also was standard, with a white shirt that changed with the season—nice T-shirts for spring, sleeveless shells for summer, three-quarter-length sleeves in fall, and a turtleneck for winter. She had already moved into her turtleneck drawer. Comfortable black loafers completed the look that allowed her to blend in almost anywhere. Her “uniform” wasn’t as glamorous as what Dominick’s girlfriends probably wore, but she looked professional, and that was all that mattered.

      It wasn’t as if Dominick was interested in her.

      Violet wheeled into the parking garage and pulled into one of the four spots assigned to her live/work condo, with its tiny storefront on the first level that faced Juniper Street and separate living quarters above. Lillian’s VW bug sat in another Summerlin at Your Service spot. Straddling the remaining two spots was a black Porsche convertible parked at a jaunty angle, as if the driver simply couldn’t bother parking straight, or taking only as much space as needed. The front vanity plate read XTREME. Violet climbed out of her car and tamped down irritation.

      The man was extremely cocky, that was certain.

      Of course, when she walked into her office, she was reminded why.

      Dominick Burns was, as her Grammy would say, as fine as frog hair.

      He leaned on the edge of her assistant’s desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His dark brown hair was ridiculously sun-streaked and wind-tousled for December. His deep blue eyes were surrounded by the longest, darkest lashes imaginable. Ruggedly tanned and dressed in holey jeans, a gray Emory University sweatshirt and worn leather sneakers, he looked more like a carefree student than the thirty-something head of a multimillion-dollar company.

      Judging from the way they were laughing, he and Lillian, a petite fortyish woman with a pink streak through her spiky black hair, were sharing a grand joke. They hadn’t even heard the bell on the door that announced her arrival. For some reason, that annoyed Violet. She had the uncomfortable feeling they might be laughing about her.

      “Hello, Mr. Burns.” Despite her blasé response to Nan, her heart stuttered in her chest when he turned his smiling indigo eyes in Violet’s direction.

      “Vee, how many times have I told you to call me Dominick?”

      “And how many times have I asked you not to call me Vee?”

      He shrugged. “A couple hundred.” Then he looked at Lillian. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boss is a little uptight—”

      “Here are your cigars,” Violet interrupted, handing him the box. “Perhaps we can continue this in my office?”

      Dominick grinned at Lillian. “I think I’m in trouble—and I like it.”

      Violet didn’t respond, just walked toward her office, mentally shaking her head. The man was a big kid.

      He gamboled into her office and she reiterated silently the word big. He took up what little extra space the room had to offer outside of her desk, two chairs and row of file cabinets. “So you work on this level and have a condo above?”

      “That’s right. It’s small, but it works for me.”

      “Nice location, near Piedmont Park.”

      “Another plus,” she agreed, then gave him a wry smile. “And there’s decent parking—as long as clients don’t take up two spaces.”

      “I won’t be here long,” he said with a grin, sipping his coffee as he glanced around at the stark decor. He nodded to her desk, which was marred only by a neat stack of manila folders. “It’s so neat. Do you actually work in here?”

      “Yes.”

      She turned to set aside her bag and when she looked back, the folders were strewn across her desk in disarray. Dominick was looking at the ceiling and whistling like an innocent little boy.

      “Nice,” she said dryly.

      He laughed. “Come on, Vee, loosen up.”

      “Mr. Burns,” she said coolly, “I’m good at my job because I’m a detail-oriented person. Now, what can I do for you today?”

      That elicited an eyebrow wag, which she ignored. Then he sighed. “Okay, business it is.” He reached into his jeans pocket and removed a crumpled piece of paper that looked as if it had barely made it through morning recess. “There’s a company in Miami I’m considering buying. I need for you to do some research for me.”

      She read the words written on the paper. “Sunpiper Extreme Sports School?”

      “Right.”

      “What kind of research?”

      He shrugged. “Whatever you can find out—check the Internet, or make phone calls…anything.”

      “I don’t know much about extreme sports,” she admitted. “Perhaps I’m not the best person to do this….”

      “I need someone I can trust, someone outside my office. As soon as word gets out that I’m making inquiries, the picture skews. People get greedy, and I don’t know if I’m getting good advice from my advisors or if they’re working for the other side.”

      When he was serious like this, his eyes warm and intuitive, she understood why the man was so successful. Beneath his carefree exterior beat the heart of a fierce competitor. He was…compelling. Violet averted her gaze and cleared her throat. “Okay. I’ll get right on it.”

      He stood. “Good. If you find anything interesting, have it couriered to my house.”

      She stood and nodded. “Absolutely. Is that all, sir? Do you need any last-minute Christmas gifts?”

      Dominick grinned and in a flash, he was back to being an overgrown frat boy. “You know me well. It’s on the other side of that piece of paper.”

      She turned over the crumpled note and sure enough, on the back was a handwritten list. Not surprisingly, most of the names on the list were female.

      He leaned forward over her desk, invading her space, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “What do you want for Christmas, Vee?”

      Nan’s comment about her needing something warm and cuddly flashed in her mind, but Violet pushed it away, especially since at the moment the turtleneck was feeling warm, if not cuddly. She drew back slightly and murmured, “World peace.”

      He laughed and shook his head. “If you were in charge, lady, I have a feeling you could make that happen. Thanks for the cigars.” He pushed on wraparound sunglasses with reflective lenses, then walked out. “See you, Lillian,” he called out as he strode out the front door.

      Violet’s new assistant was in her office before the bell on the front door stopped ringing. “What an interesting man.”

      Violet gave her a knowing smile. “I see you’ve fallen under Dominick’s spell.”

      “You haven’t?” Lillian asked, nodding to Violet’s hand, which had pulled out the collar of the turtleneck and was fanning it open and closed to deliver some much-needed air.

      Violet dropped her hand. “No,” she said with more vehemence than she intended, then reached for the bundle of mail Lillian