The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

Great. Now she was talking to herself. Another ten minutes and she’d change again. Dresses littered her bed. The ones that Hudson had pai

d for and the few she already had. The only dress that remained in her closet was the blue wrap dress she’d worn the night she and Hudson had…well, they had a lesson she wasn’t going to forget. Ever. It had been radio silence until yesterday. Which is exactly how it should be. She yanked her hair back into a high ponytail, wrapping a ponytail holder around it, using more force than necessary. Anything more than that mindset and the whole Eliza Doolittle/Henry Higgins, Jedi/Yoda thing could get thrown out of whack. They were two people with a common goal and compatible sex drives. That was that. There was no reason to muck it up with anything else. Her rubber band broke, snapping her fingers with a wicked smack, just as Honeypot began to yowl.

“Perfect timing,” she grumbled, letting her hair fall to her shoulders as she marched to the door.

She scooped up the cat and yanked it open, ignoring Honeypot’s sharp-clawed protest.

“Hey there,” Hudson said, wearing a navy-blue suit that had him looking every bit like the millions of dollars in his bank account. “I see my girl couldn’t wait to see me.”

Felicia’s synapses sizzled to a crisp. His girl? Heat rushed to her cheeks. Then he reached out and scratched Honeypot behind the ear. Oh yeah. That girl. The furry one who was now purring like a race car engine. Felicia’s face turned shades of the sun hot. Good. That was exactly who she’d been hoping he meant.

Liar.

She shoved the cat into Hudson’s arms, hoping in the petty part of her heart that Honeypot would choose that moment to puke up a fur ball. “I need to go get another ponytail holder.”

“No way.” He strode in like he owned the joint and put Honeypot down on the blue chair.

She jolted to a stop only a few steps short of her bedroom and whirled around. “What?”

“Remember? We’re doing this my way.” He closed the distance between them in a few strides. Yes, her apartment was tiny, but it still wasn’t fair. He was too tall. Too close. Too confusing. “You’ve got great hair. Leave it down.”

“I suppose I should chuck the glasses, too?” she asked, the question coming out more brittle than she meant.

Why in the hell was she being like this?

“Hell no. Those are hot as fuck,” he said with total sincerity and a little leering, but in a non-creepy way. “Totally reminds me of my math tutor.”

Her panties, a thong because of the dress’s body con fit, tried to wriggle their way off her body while her brain kept a tight grip on the lacy fabric. She fucking swore they did. It was insanity. That’s what happened when you slept with the Henry Higgins of Harbor City while trying to land another guy. It discombobulated a person.

“Whatever,” she said, not meaning to huff but unable to stop herself.

He cocked his head, making some of his light brown hair fall over his forehead before he swept it back with his long fingers. “What’s wrong?”

Pull it together, Felicia.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t look like he believed her. “Nervous about Tyler?”

The simple and pure logic of the question was like an epiphany. That had to be it. Not the whole transference, animated panties thing, but nerves.

“That must be it,” she said. “Sorry, I’m out of sorts.”

“You’ll do awesome.” He gave her a wink. “Just follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.”

“I have an entire lecture on ant colony interactions all ready to go.” The look of horror on his face finally made her shoulders ease down a couple of inches. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

“Don’t hide your brain, Matches. It’s one of the sexiest parts about you,” he said. “Just keep the gross ant facts to a minimum.”

The compliment—even with the ant comment—settled like warm honey in her belly, and for once she didn’t try to unwind it like a riddle. She just allowed herself the luxury of accepting it, grabbed her purse, and walked out the door, leaving a mewling Honeypot behind.

The Crane and Berry was the kind of restaurant with a waiting list that went into the years. As the hostess in her head-to-toe black led them back to the table, all of that calm was washed away by the sight of Tyler sitting next to Sawyer at a corner table with guarded expressions on their faces. They each had a closed menu and a half-filled glass of scotch in front of them. The nerves bubbled back to the surface, then Hudson’s strong fingers slid across the expanse of her lower back and he leaned down.

“I’m betting on black lace with little ribbons tonight,” he whispered in her ear half a heartbeat before he straightened and pulled out a chair for her at the table—the one right next to Tyler. Then he took his seat on the other side of her and shook his head at the two men. “I presume the bloodletting hasn’t started yet.”

“No, we’ve got all the details just about worked out for the office complex in Singapore,” Sawyer said, his tone tight. “It’s just getting him to give his blessing to Mr. Lim that we’ve got it down.”

“Sounds like things have changed a little bit since you and Frankie had your lawn mowing business,” she said, reaching for the goblet of water above her plate. “Didn’t you get everyone to sign off on using you two exclusively for the entire summer in exchange for a ten percent discount?”