Sex Appeal. Lori Foster

      “No. I’ll come here and we’ll walk up together.” As he left, he picked up one of her brochures, and Shadow saw him make note of her name and business number printed in the upper corner. He left without another word, this time stepping very carefully onto the icy walk.

      After he’d gone, Shadow put her hand over her heart. It drummed madly against her palm. Good grief, a man like that carried a lot of impact, and she’d barely gotten to know him. Still, she’d recognized right off that he liked to control all situations. He had been equally put off by, and intrigued with, her bold manner.

      Lunch, she thought, should prove interesting.

      * * *

      AFTER A LONG NIGHT of pondering possibilities, Brent had decided he was pleased to be leasing business space to Shadow Callahan. Very pleased. “Micky, I need you to hunt up a file.”

      “Yes, Mr. Bramwell. Which one?”

      Brent lounged back in his office chair, his eyes on the brochure laid open on his desk. “Ms. Shadow Callahan. She’s leasing at the new buildings over in South-watch.”

      “I’ll have it in a minute.”

      “Thank you.” Brent studied the brochure, advertising everything from board games to perfumed oils, specialty clothing to self-help books promising to put the fun back into your sex life. It was so outrageous as to be laughable. And profitable. Brent could easily see such a novel idea catching on. The woman who had come up with the concept most assuredly intrigued him.

      He couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone so animated, or so lovely. Ms. Callahan, even dressed in old jeans and a sweatshirt, exuded blatant sensuality and confidence. Her appeal had nothing to do with clothing or store-bought fragrances. It was attitude, the way she moved and spoke, the way she smiled so easily. She was sexy as hell.

      Brent was always very conscious of women and their motives; he had to be. Women gravitated toward him because of his bankbook and his connections, not his looks, certainly not his character. He could have been a troll with the nastiest disposition and still women would try for his attention. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the thrill of the chase. Hell, it had been a long time since there’d been any need for a chase.

      But Shadow Callahan, with all her compliments and open appreciation, didn’t know he had money. So why had she been so intent on controlling the situation? He’d recognized that intention immediately, because it was usually his objective, as well. And for a minute or two there he’d actually allowed her the upper hand, merely out of surprise.

      Micky brought in the requested folder and Brent got down to business. He’d be seeing her again in just a few short hours, and he wanted to be prepared this time. Shadow—what a name—didn’t yet know that he held her lease, and that was just fine by him. He’d take all the advantages he could get. But before he had any more verbal skirmishes with her, he’d find out all he could about her, and there was no way he’d let her take him by surprise again.

      * * *

      SHADOW DIDN’T GIVE BRENT a single thought that morning. She was far too busy with holiday shoppers who used her novel stock of items to take care of those hard-to-buy-for people on their lists. She enjoyed it—the rush, the interaction with customers, the excitement over a particular item that someone decided was “just perfect!” She didn’t have time to waste thinking of Brent.

      Yesterday evening, though, she’d thought of him plenty. He was interesting. More so than the men she’d met of late, who mostly bored her with their attentions. She wasn’t certain what exactly appealed to her about Brent, but she’d figure it out. When she had the time.

      He came in at quarter to twelve, his lean cheeks ruddy from the cold. Shadow sent him a quick smile, then turned back to the young women who were trying to decide between two different board games.

      “This one’s a little more expensive and it takes longer to play. But the concessions each player has to give were designed and written up by a well-known psychologist, and—” she bobbed her eyebrows “—guaranteed effective.”

      The women giggled, suitably impressed. Shadow went on, motioning to the other game. “This one’s more good-natured fun. You make up your own concessions or rewards as you go along, depending on your partner.” The choice was made and Shadow rang up the sale, wishing the women luck and reminding them to enjoy themselves.

      Brent approached her, taking in her outfit with careful consideration. Shadow grinned at him. “Do you like it?”

      She’d dressed like a snow bunny. Her thick cotton top fell to the middle of her thighs and she wore leggings tucked into soft leather boots. As she turned for him, holding her arms out to the side, Brent read the words written across her back: Face It—Forty Never Looked This GOOD.

      He shook his head. “Very nice. But you’re not forty.”

      “How would you know?” She was thirty-one, but she hadn’t told him that. She smiled. “My driver’s license is safely tucked away in my bag. Have you been peeking?”

      All he said was, “I know you’re not forty.”

      “Do you think I look good for forty?”

      “Too good,” he said meaningfully. “I thought women always claimed to be younger, not older.”

      “Now why would I do that? If I said I was twenty, people would think I looked terrible for such a young age. But for forty, I ain’t so bad.”

      “Lady, I think you look damn fine regardless of your age.”

      He said it so sincerely her heart gave a quick thump of excitement. She hid that reaction well. “Let me get my coat, drag my assistant up from the back and then we can go.”

      When Shadow returned from the back room, she was followed by a woman whose arms were ladened with printed bedsheets. As Shadow shrugged into her coat, she made introductions. “This is Kallie, my indispensable right hand and a very nice, if somewhat shy, lady. Kallie, this is Brent Bramwell. We’ll be down at the coffee shop if you need me.”

      Kallie smiled. “Take your time. I can handle things.”

      “Of course you can. I never doubted it for a minute. When you finish stacking those, hang one up so everyone can see the print, okay? Maybe even near the window, where passersby will catch a glimpse of it.”

      Brent took her arm and led her out the door. “What do the sheets have printed on them that you want everyone to see?”

      Even with their heavy coats and the frigid wind, Shadow could feel the warmth of Brent beside her. She dodged an icy patch and stepped closer still. “The, ah, proper placement of body parts.”

      Brent missed a beat, then laughed. “You’re kidding.”

      “Nope.” She crossed her heart. “It’s kind of a visual instruction manual. I expect them to be big sellers.”

      “Have you bought any for yourself yet?”

      The coffee shop was only two doors down, so they had already reached it before Brent asked his question. Shadow went in, breathing deeply of the wonderful aroma of fresh baked bread, pastries and flavored coffees. “I love it in here,” she said, in lieu of giving him an answer. “There’s nothing quite like the smell of yeast and warm bread to make you feel comforted.”

      “Oh, I don’t know. I can think of a few scents I prefer.”

      Shadow slipped off her coat, took a seat at a small table, then waited until Brent had removed his own coat and taken the seat across from her. Propping her cheek against her fist on the table, she studied him. “I’ve annoyed you. That’s why you’re being so outrageous.”

      Brent cocked one eyebrow upward. “Outrageous? I thought I was making idle conversation.”

      Shadow watched him a moment longer, then sighed. “Okay. No, and I suppose that’s true for many men, and probably