Sexy as Hell Box Set by Harlem Dae Page A

espresso and chose a seat in the far corner at the back so I could see the door and any potentials as they came in. It was the same position I took up every time I came here, a pussy on the prowl, lying in wait until her prey innocently approached. I never got my claws out so they could see them, but they were there nevertheless, snagged into their jacket lapels, drawing them closer to me. How had I got it so arse backwards with Victor? Yes, I did believe I had snagged him anyway, but that first experience, where he’d refused my delightful offer… I needed to learn to read people more carefully.
    Seated, I stared around the room, comforted by the scents of coffee, Danish pastries, powdered doughnuts, cookies and that thickness to the air of such places that made me feel right at home. If I could bottle the scents and capture the emotions it wrought in me I would. I sighed in pleasure and took a sip of my coffee, anticipating that by the time I’d finished my first cup I’d get that wonderful hit and be ready to take on the world.
    I wasn’t ready to take on Victor, though, who entered in a black suit and white shirt, directing his attention straight at my corner. His eyes widened when he took me in, and I had trouble not doing the same. What was he doing here? Didn’t he have his own posh coffee in his office, prepared by the overbearing Mary? Didn’t he have work to do? I drew in a deep breath and plastered on a smile. No way was I letting him know he’d thrown me for a loop, caught me in my mission to find a new playmate. He didn’t smile back, which was a little disconcerting, but no matter. What did I care? If he’d slept on things and wanted to break our agreement, well, I was in the perfect place to collect someone new and show them the good time Victor would be missing.
    He stalked—yes, stalked!—to the counter and ordered, glancing my way once or twice and scowling as though I’d done something to piss him off. By the look of him he’d be telling me soon enough, no need for me to worry over what was wrong. Cup in hand, he walked over and placed it on the table, sitting opposite and folding his arms across his chest. I smiled brightly, cocking my head and twirling a strand of hair around my finger.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, lowering his chin and staring at me as if I’d done the most hideous thing known to man.
    “Having a bloody coffee!” I blurted, indignance rising in me. “It’s what you tend to do in these places, didn’t you know that? And I might well get right into the swing of it and have a Danish with my next cup, if it’s all the same to you.”
    He slackened the tightness of his arms a bit, and his shoulders lost a little of their rigidity. I’d have thought my response would have riled him further and was a tad confused because it hadn’t.
    “Oh, right,” he said. “I thought…”
    There he went, thinking again.
    “You thought what , exactly?” I reached for my cup, annoyed that my hand was shaking.
    He blushed fiercely and lowered his gaze. “Doesn’t matter.”
    “Obviously it does, otherwise you wouldn’t have felt the need to question me, would you, when it’s pretty obvious what a person does in a coffee shop.”
    “No, it isn’t.” He reached out for his cup. His hand shook too.
    “Isn’t it? How so?” I sipped, not needing the caffeine hit now. I was well and truly ready to take on the world and his damn wife.
    “You…you pick people up here,” he said quietly.
    “And?” I almost shouted, not caring who heard me. “That is your concern how?”
    “Like I said, it doesn’t matter,” he muttered.
    Oh, but it did matter. What was he getting at? Did he think because we had an exclusive month together he had the right to stop me from browsing for my next conquest? Not on his bloody life!
    “Listen, you,” I said, jabbing a pointed finger in his direction. “I can do as I please while I’m teaching you. If I want to come here