His Temporary Assistant

Beige. So him and yet so not.

The energy and colors vibrated out of him when our lips locked, but then like a switch, his aura became the equivalent of flat ecru wall paint. I wasn’t sure how he did it. Were his shields that good?

Did he even know he had them?

Why did I care?

I tapped my fingers on my thigh to the music playing on low. It was some watery, mid-tempo type song that I would listen to while I was sketching. Not exactly the stuff I’d listen to in the car. The car was for loud music—pop, singalong hair metal, classic rock—anything but sleepy chill out stuff.

Then again, he was driving a Grandpa car.

Why was this the guy who got my libido to sit up and take notice? Was it just because I’d been in a drought? Not on purpose or anything. I just had been happily in my own lane for work and enjoying spending time with friends instead of looking for someone to get horizontal with.

“So, how much is this going to cost me?”

“I’ll cover your entry fee.”

“I can handle my own finances, thanks.”

His

lips twitched. “Two hundred.”

“What? Are we meeting billionaires or something?”

“For two hundred dollars?”

“Fair.” I crossed my arms. I could afford it, but damn, that was steep. “I suppose that gets rid of the players.”

“One would think.”

Then again, he’d had his lips on mine a short time before he put himself out there for the next twenty or so eligible bachelorettes. Guys were pigs. Even the supposed good ones.

I’d learned that growing up with a free spirit for a mother. She’d gotten hurt so many times I lost count. Men promising she was the one, if only that pesky wife wasn’t in the picture. And yet, the wife was never out of the picture.

Preston took a left, away from the eateries, cafés, and shopping district of Kensington Square and headed into the heart of Syracuse. The maze of byways and highways took us deeper into the flat grays and industrial flavor of the city.

“Where is this place?”

“Not far.”

I dug my phone out of my bag. “What’s the name of it?”

He was silent for a beat too long. Enough that I gave him some serious side eye. His finger tapped on the steering wheel. “It’s new. There’s no site.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everything has a site. That’s how you market these days. Especially for startups.”

“Patience, Miss Moon.”

I huffed out a growl and scrolled through my messages, but unfortunately, there wasn’t anything pressing or interesting to reply to. Luna had a group session tonight at her new apartment building. A few of the tenants had been interested in learning about tarot.

Not that I wanted to tell her I was going to some random speed dating event tonight—especially if I didn’t ask her to come. She’d kill me.

Hell, she would kill me when she found out. She always knew.

I straightened in my seat as Preston pulled into…a clinic? I turned to him. “What the hell are you into, PMS?”

He didn’t answer me, just got out and came around to open my door. I was so flabbergasted I didn’t even try to open my own door. He held his hand out for me, and I couldn’t think of a good reason not to take it. Especially when his eyes dared me to say no.