The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

Hudson: Underwear?

She typed out T-H-O-N before stopping herself. Damn it.

Felicia: None of your business.

Hudson: Same as the other night?

Heat flamed against her cheeks, and she ducked back into her cubical before anyone noticed. The other night. Yeah, that was one way to describe her totally losing her mind and her inhibitions to the point that she’d orgasmed standing up while on an ottoman in the middle of her living room. If life were fair, she would have been able to put it out of her mind completely and pretend it had never happened. But the truth was that she hadn’t stopped thinking about it, or wanting it to happen again. Obviously, her body’s reaction to Hudson was just transference. Whatever attraction she felt toward him would all work itself out as soon as she got Tyler to really notice her.

Hudson: I bet you’re cute and commando. That’s the mental picture I have right now. It’s hot.

She clenched her thighs together and forced her fingers to type something other than the status of her now damp panties.

Felicia: I’m not answering that.

Hudson: I can come over and investigate. Hanging around a scientist has made me more curious about my world and more appreciative of the scientific method of discovery.

As if.

Felicia: You’re full of shit.

Hudson: And you’re not as nervous now.

Her hand went up to her bottom lip. It wasn’t nearly as tender as it had been before and her hands had stopped twitching. How had he… Before she could finish the thought, her phone vibrated in her palm.

Hudson: Time to go. Have fun with Captain Clueless.

Okay, she had to hand it to him. Hudson Carlyle was a total pain in her ass, but he was good to have around occasionally. She dashed off a quick bye text and hustled down three flights on the staff-only staircase to the bottom floor. Visitors were thick between the hanging great white shark display and the museum coffee shop, but she still spotted Tyler who stood tall above the crowd. Of course, his inky black hair, intense blue eyes, and confident stance would make him stand out in any crowd.

It wasn’t until she swerved around a gaggle of kindergartners walking hand-in-hand in a giant swirling line that she realized his hair was mussed, and he had the distracted air of someone whose brain was miles away.

“Everything okay?” she asked when she finally made it to his side.

“Just another run-in with the world’s most annoying upstairs neighbor,” he said as they made their way to the back of the long line leading to the harried baristas. “The woman wears heels twenty-four-seven as she stomps around her apartment, and she has wood floors. It’s like living below a herd of stiletto-wearing elephants.”

Thank God Mrs. Blankenship in the apar

tment above her only made tons of noise during her Saturday morning cleaning extravaganzas. “Sounds like fun.”

“That’s one word for it,” he grumbled, shoving his fingers through his hair and leaving a straight-up mess in their wake. “I’m working on a plan, though.”

“You always were a schemer.” The words were out of her mouth before her brain had a chance to realize he might take that as an insult. God, why didn’t her high IQ help with social situations at all? “I don’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Nah, you’re right. A man’s gotta have a plan, and I’ve got a ton of them,” he said as they got to the front of the line. “Come on, let’s get that coffee. I need to run some stuff past you.”

One green tea (her) and an extra-large coffee (him) order later, and her phone buzzed against her ass as they stood in another line waiting for their order. She should ignore it. Tyler stood next to her checking his own phone. She had it out and in her hand a second later. So much for willpower when curiosity was involved.

Hudson: What’s going on?

Felicia: In line for coffee.

Hudson: Perfect. Now about that underwear…

Her pulse rocketed.

Felicia: Ignoring you.

She shoved it back into her back pocket, determined to ignore him—at least until she got back up to her cubicle. The barista called out their order, and they retrieved their drinks, and Tyler headed off to a table in the corner blessedly away from the shouts and whines of the child-sized weekday museum crowd. She followed behind, her self-satisfied smile growing with each step. That was a good sign. It had to be. Why ask for a coffee date and sit at the most private table there unless he’d had an epiphany about them? Her plan the other night had worked. All Tyler had needed was a little nudge in the right direction.