The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

“That’s enough,” she said, her voice a quiet squeak. “What are you, the Non-Relationship Police?”

He waited a beat, just long enough to watch her skin return to its pale, creamy color. Then, unable to stop himself, he teased. “I’m your fairy godmother wrapped in this extremely awesome, sexy package. It’s okay to swoon a little. I won’t judge.”

Her jaw muscles worked overtime fighting a smile before she said in a low tone, “Let me guess, your massive ego turns into a magic wand?”

“That’s not what most women call it—well, except the ‘massive’ part.” He winked and almost laughed out loud when her eyes widened.

One of her dainty hands snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and she tossed the whole thing back like a trooper. When she set the empty glass back on the bar, her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I can’t believe you started this conversation about one man and expertly turned it into a dissertation about your own junk.”

“I wouldn’t call this a ‘dissertation.’ More like a thesis statement at this point, wouldn’t you agree?” He spied a waiter at the end of the bar refilling his tray with bubbly, and Hudson subtlety nodded for service. While this conversation was turning to one of his favorite topics—himself—he needed to steer things back to Tyler.

“But I think I can help you snag Tyler without the aid of my ‘magic wand.’” He squashed the immediate revolt in his pants and grabbed two flutes of champagne from the offered tray. He handed one to Felicia, curious if she’d pound this one back, too.

“You think so, do you?” she asked, all eyes for Tyler while she sipped at the bubbly liquid. Pity.

“Thinking doesn’t factor into it. I’m just that good,” he said, watching her work out the possibilities with that super fast mind of hers before she tossed the rest of the champagne back like they were in a frat house. He smiled. That’s my girl. “This is all about the heart. You want Tyler to see you as a woman—his kind of woman—and I can help you do just that.”

When it came to what made women irresistible, he knew it all—one of the many benefits of being a lifelong connoisseur.

Felicia’s face lit up with wry amusement, and she managed to get her soft voice above a murmur. “Are you offering to make me over into what the patriarchy has decided is attractive?”

“No,” he said, slipping off the superficial charm like a snake shedding its skin. “I’m offering to help you get what you’ve wanted, probably since perfect Tyler first became friends with your older brother Freddie.”

“Frankie,” she said reflexively.

“Whatever.” He shrugged, knowing the key to getting her to agree was in appealing to her scientific mind. Earlier, he’d gotten a glimpse into the way she thought while she’d excitedly explained to him and Tyler about her ant research. She was methodical. And driven. “You don’t strike me as a woman who gives up on what she wants without at least an experiment.”

For a second, he had her. He would have sworn it in a court of law.

Then, that perfect bottom lip of hers straightened out and flattened. “I don’t, but I’m also not the type to trick a man into believing he’s getting a different sort of woman. Thank you for the offer, but I think I’ve got things under control.”

With a little tilt to her stubborn chin and a shake of her head, she turned to leave, but he shot out his hand to stop her. It started as a tingle the second his fingers curled around her forearm and built to a vibration that shot straight to his dick the longer he held her. He should let go. He didn’t. He stepped closer, eliminating the distance between them. He was supposed to be persuading her, not picturing all the things he’d like to do to her and wondering what sounds she’d make when he did them.

“Look, Matches, there’s no doubt about it, my ego is huge, but my reputation is well earned.” He studied her gaze carefully. “No one else out there can help you get Tyler as well as I can. You’ve been trying for years, haven’t you?” He watched, fascinated, as her skin turned rosy. “Yeah, that pretty pink blush tells me everything I need to know. You want him, and I can make sure you get him.”

Of course, he had zero plans for her to actually end up with Tyler. His instincts said this woman was more. Definitely more than Tyler deserved. Sure, he’d agreed to help mend fences between Tyler and Sawyer, but he could do that without Felicia ending up with Captain Clueless. Tyler had been Sawyer’s best friend, not his, and he owed no loyalty to the guy who’d made his brother’s life miserable for the last umpteen years. No

, he had a much better way to mend their friendship, while at the same time showing Felicia she deserved more than her stupid childhood crush. He was going to save her from herself. Then, of course, she’d owe him and let him work her out on canvas.

“And what do you want in return?” she asked, her voice breathier than it had been before.

“To paint you.” Her eyebrows reached her hairline in a split second, and he rushed to assure her. “No one would ever know.” No one could know, or he’d risk exposing his secret life.

“Is that the new ‘let me show you my etchings’?” she asked, looking down at where his fingers pressed into her flesh, though she didn’t try to free herself.

“Tick tock, Matches.” Adrenaline surged through him, shrinking his world until she was the only thing in it. “What’s it going to be?”

She flicked her gaze up at him, her blue eyes scrutinizing him behind her thick glasses. “Why are you calling me Matches?”

The truth came out before he could think of a charming lie. “Because they’re small, but when you stroke them just right, they can burn the whole place down.”

Her jaw flexed, and she started to say something before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to pass on your generous offer,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “If you have any ant lab business or donations to discuss, which I very much doubt you do, you can find me at the lab during regular business hours.”

Then she turned and walked across the ant lab, disappearing behind a door marked Staff Only.

Hudson was still trying to understand what had just happened when Tyler—apparently back from talking sports—elbowed him in the ribs, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’ve known Felicia my whole life,” Tyler said, goodwill toward her but nothing more incendiary in his tone. “She’s the youngest of seven and the total runt of the litter—not that it’s ever mattered. You might not think it because she’s got that whole quiet nerdy girl thing going on, but you don’t want to go up against her. She’ll knock you on your ass, Pretty Boy.”