Came to the quick conclusion it was the sum of them that made her striking.
This stoic sort of beauty that could bring a wicked man to his knees.
She felt me coming the way everyone else did. A frisson slaked through the air as I made my way to her. She looked up. Eyes the color of November took me in. A kaleidoscope of browns and greens, yellows and reds. Fallen leaves that sparked and shimmered beneath the muted light and sent another shiver racing for my dick.
Her stare ran down my body like she was cataloguing everything she could about me.
First and foremost, fear.
Danger.
Distrust.
Good girl.
Problem was the way something else struck in the space between us. Something palpable yet imperceptible.
I saw the evidence of it prickle across the surface of her flesh.
Chills that ran wild.
Motherfuck.
She brought her shoulders up high like she could protect herself from it, all while lifting her chin in a show of confidence that made a smirk tick up at the corner of my mouth.
Nothing but a ferocious little kitten.
I slipped into the booth opposite her. As casual as could be, I slung an arm over the back and kept my other hand wrapped around the glass that I set on the table.
Before I had a chance to say anything, she asked, “You’re the owner?”
Her voice was this breathy, seductive thing, and shit…
“Yes,” I gritted.
She shoved her hand out across the table. “Hello. I’m Eden Murphy. I’m really grateful for the opportunity to meet you.”
Yeah, well I wasn’t so keen on meeting her because I was overcome with a severe bout of insta-lust. Kind that had my fingers twitching and the tiny spec of a conscience I still possessed telling me to stay the fuck away from the sweetness that was fillin’ my nostrils like a drug.
My own sixth sense.
Because to a guy like me? It was the light that was the danger. Thing that left me vulnerable. Put me at risk.
I just glared at her dainty little hand like all it had to offer was a viper bite before I cocked my head and bit out the reply, “Trent Lawson, and I’m sorry to waste your time, sweetheart, but we aren’t hiring servers.”
I started to get the fuck out of there when her voice hit me again. “Um…wait…what?”
Could feel her confused dejection floating around me.
Gripping on.
Talons digging into my skin and dragging me back.
Words started to flood out from behind. “It said you were hiring in the job ad, and I had an interview at three o’clock today. I’m qualified. I worked at a café all through high school and at a coffee bar during college.”
“You and everyone else, sunshine,” I tossed out without glancing back because looking at her had become a dangerous thing.
This chick with the autumn eyes and the thrumming heart.
“Please, I’d appreciate you at least talking to me.” Agitation bound her words as I kept moving away. Then they flooded with panic. “I’m qualified and I’m fast…and…and I’ve danced my entire life.”
I whipped my head around fast enough to witness her delicate throat tremor when she said it, like maybe she could swallow back up the words after she’d released them.
I chuckled a dark sound.
Was she serious?
I sank back into the booth, no clue where this girl thought she was going with this, but some sick part of me liked the idea entirely too much.
“So, tell me about this dancing, Kitten, that you’ve done your whole life.”
She flinched, her delicate throat bobbing when she swallowed, the words hard when she pushed them out.
“I’ve done ballet since I was a child,” she said. “Now I teach classes to children.”
A rough chuckle scraped from my throat. “Ballet?”
“Yes. I can demonstrate, if you like?” A clear challenge tilted her head to the side when she said it.
Hard laughter slipped free, and I took a sip of my scotch, raked my teeth on my bottom lip as I sank back farther to take her in.
“What I want to know is how dancing has anything to do with you gettin’ hired as a server here? This look like a strip club to you?”
“No. I just…I thought it might…” She trailed off, chewing at her bottom lip.
Hiking a brow, I blatantly let my gaze rake over the bits of her I could see from over the top of the table. Girl was wearing a fucking baby-blue blouse that she had buttoned to the base of her throat, a suit jacket over the top like she was applying to be a teller down at the local bank.
Hot as fuck, but not even close to fittin’ in around here, though I got the sense she was trying to convince me that wasn’t the case.
Nah, we might not have dancers, but it was no secret our servers weren’t shy to tempt imaginations. To tease minds into desire with bits of flesh rather than showcasing everything hidden underneath.