The Negotiator (Harbor City 1)

Sawyer let out a lusty groan.

Oh. My. God. He was.

She needed to walk away. Right the fuck now. Her feet didn’t move, but her waist did—it had to be some kind of body possession event—and she twisted until she could get a look inside the bathroom. She drank in the profile view of him. He had one palm planted against the wall and the other hand stroking his hard cock. She knew personally that his hands were big, but they managed to look a little on the small side as he glided it up and down his shaft.

It was wrong to watch, but Clover couldn’t tear her gaze away. The way his body tightened with each flick of his wrist excited her, turned her on, and teased every one of her senses. He was close. The fingers on his hand pressed to the shower wall curled as if he could claw his way through the tile. His other hand was a blur of motion. His spine snapped straight.

“Fuck, Clover,” he ground out the words as he came hard against the shower wall.

She couldn’t breathe. That was—without a doubt—the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

“You know, Clover,” Sawyer said as he stepped under the overhead shower spray and let the water run down his chest. “A real fiancée would have joined me instead of just lurking in the doorway and watching.”

Embarrassed and surprised, she spun around and jerked back hard enough that she hit the back of her head against the wall. Yay. Maybe that would knock some sense into her.

“Pervert,” she muttered to herself, accepting the pronouncement as being completely true about herself at the moment…and really anytime she was around him.

Even from the relative safety of the other side of the bathroom wall where she couldn’t see his wet, naked body, the man turned her self-control to lime Jell-O and her body into a hot, horny bundle of nerves and needs. She was pathetic.

What else was she not? Engaged.

“I’m not a real fiancée,” she said with all the dignity she could muster at the moment.

“What about your declaration last night to just have a little fun?”

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.” No, she was sure it was not a good idea.

Sawyer made her lose her bearings. If she wasn’t careful, she’d wake up and find herself eating apple pie just because it was his favorite and then their time would be up and she’d be brokenheartedly eating apple pie alone in Australia.

“Really? I remember someone telling me not that long ago that letting things get messy was half the fun,” he said, throwing her own words back at her as he turned the shower off. “I’ll be ready in ten.”

An image of his hand stroking himself flashed in her mind. Her core clenched and she forced herself to look at his mess of a bed instead of turning and looking back inside the bathroom. “That fast?”

There were a few beats of silence before Sawyer said with a knowing laugh in his voice, “Unless you’ve changed your mind about going to the flea market.”

Her blood must have been rushing too loudly in her ears because she hadn’t heard the shower door open. It was as if Sawyer had just suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorway, water droplets clinging to his shoulders and a black towel slung low across his hips.

Now that she knew exactly what was under that towel, she’d have thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to see him like that. But it was. Oh God, it was.

She locked her focus back on his bed. Bad idea! She dropped her gaze to the floor. “You’re just trying to get out of going.”

“I just need to get dressed, and then I’ll be all ready.” He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so she couldn’t help but take in his handsome face and cocky grin. “Unless you want me to stay like this.”

Yes! Her body cried. Clover managed to block out that bad advice. “Bailing you out of jail for indecent exposure at the flea market is not my idea of a fun Saturday.”

“Then I can’t wait to see what is.” His hand dropped to the towel, his thumb toying with where he’d tucked one end in to hold it secure. “Now you’d better run along unless you want another show…”

His question hung in the air between them as Clover’s whole body went up in flames. Metaphorically, of course—which was a shame. She could do with a little fire and brimstone to get her head back in the game.

“I’ll wait for you in the living room.” The words came out in a rush as she hurried toward the opening in the glass brick wall before her baser instincts drowned out her better sense.

Who was chickening out now, Clover asked herself as Sawyer’s testosterone-infused chuckle chased her out of his bedroom. She mentally clucked her answer as she hustled out to the living room to practice her deep breathing technique until Sawyer came out, hopefully dressed in a full-body snowsuit complete with ski mask.

…

The flea market in an up-and-coming Harbor City neighborhood was just as bad as he expected. Loads of crap—some of it dinged up on purpose—and bad artwork being hawked by people wearing ironic T-shirts and bored expressions.

“You aren’t even giving it a chance.” Clover slipped her hand into his and tugged him down yet another narrow aisle crowded with stalls of bric-a-brac. “You have to really look at a piece and imagine what it could be.”