Jennifer Apodaca - Samantha Shaw 04 - Batteries Required by Jennifer Apodaca Page A

into what little neck he had.
    Message received—female criers and lunatics were my department. Zoë didn’t strike me as the type to cry, but she had real lunatic possibilities.
    I rushed from my door to get between Zoë and Bob. “Zoë, this gentleman here is one of our newest clients. He’s a fireman, not a writer.”
    “A writer?” Bob looked at Zoë and laughed. “What kind of writer did you think I was?”
    Zoë turned her dark brown eyes on Bob. “A romance writer, of course.” She tugged down her white men’s shirt over her deep purple yoga pants, and shifted the handle of the shopping bag from her right hand to her left.
    “Zoë,” I said, looking down at the fairly large shopping bag. I noticed that the yoga pants ended just below Zoë’s knees, showing about two inches of rock-solid bare calf. She had on thick white socks and slip-on leather sandals. I almost lost my train of thought. Oh, right . . . saving Bob from Zoë. I looked back up at her face. “Is there something I can help you with?”
    She ignored me and zeroed in on Bob. “How do I know you’re not R. V. Logan?”
    “Want me to throw Samantha over my shoulder to prove I’m a fireman?” He grinned, looked around the reception area, and spotted Angel. His grin froze. “Or how about that gorgeous redhead?”
    For a second, the room went silent.
    Then Angel started walking toward Bob. “Cool.” She flashed her bright grin. “I’m Angel. Go ahead, fireman, throw me over your shoulder.” She stopped in front of him.
    Fireman Bob glanced past Angel to me, and shrugged.
    Then he leaned down, scooping Angel up over his shoulder. He anchored her there with a hand on the back of her thigh. “Any particular place you’d like me to carry you, Angel?”
    I glared at Bob. “Put her down!” Damn it, I could feel the sparks between the two of them. Bob was supposed to be my ringer for Heart Mates. A cute, personable guy. OK, maybe throwing women over his shoulder was a little forward, but Angel had practically dared him.
    Bob grinned and set Angel back to her feet.
    Angel turned and looked at Zoë. “Yep, he’s a fireman.”
    Maybe Gabe was right. I should work for him. It had to be better than dealing with lunatics.
    And the sex really rocked.

6
    “Y ou people are strange,” Zoë announced. She apparently believed Angel that Bob was a fireman.
    Like Angel would know that just from the way Bob picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. My office was full of strange people.
    Zoë turned to me and held out the bag she was carrying. “This is for you.”
    I reached for the blue bag. “What’s this?” I opened it and looked inside. It was filled with tissue paper and . . . “Rose petals?” I reached in and started to pull items out of the rose petals and tissue paper. The first was a bottle of Zinfandel wine. I set that on Blaine’s desk. Next came out a plastic tray with a see-through cover. Inside I could see a half dozen chocolate-covered strawberries. I added that to the wine. Fishing around in the bag, I found the latest R. V. Logan novel and a scented candle. “Zoë, what’s all this?”
    She shrugged, and her thick dark hair danced around her shoulders. “Thought you’d enjoy the book with a little wine, strawberries, and a candle. I have the same thing for R. V. Logan.” She shifted her weight, but her gaze stayed riveted on me. “He can sign the copy of his book for me. I need his address, Samantha.”
    Bob crossed his arms over his chest. “All this for a man who writes romances?”
    Zoë looked at him. “Samantha won’t give me his address and phone number. He’s my heart mate.”
    Both his eyebrows hit his hairline. “So you are bribing her?”
    Zoë pursed her lips. “I am simply demonstrating how important romance is. How important it is that I find R. V. Logan.” Zoë turned her attention back to me. “Samantha, didn’t you read that card I left for you? The hero in R. V. Logan’s book never gave up