Page 56 of Sin Bin

Zoe is as tough as I am, and just as sharp-tongued. Sure, she might play the innocent girl next door, but I’ve seen her in action. I’ve seen her work a crowd to get what she wants—I’ve experienced her workingme. And while my cock might like to see her working me for another round, I know that sex isn’t the reason whyshe’shere.

Not even after the way I stood up for her to her boss. The way he’d accused her of failing at her job had lit a fire inside of me. Zoe works harder than anyone I know—hell, since she’s taken me on as a client, she hasn’tstoppedworking.

My hand lands on the doorframe, blocking her entry into my house. “You don’t sayhello, Zoe,” I say, in reference to her greeting. “The last time you popped up unannounced we were inDetroit.”

Her long black hair, which is tied back in one of those female hair clips, slips over her shoulder when she tilts her head. “I havesomenews.”

“Yeah?” I murmur, my fingers digging into the wooden framework. “Have you decided that I’m a lost cause? I hear another sponsorpulledout.”

It sucks, especially sinceFame’svideo has hit the national media circuit. While everyone fans over and points out my crotch in the speedo, there are less people commenting on the actual interview. On my attempt to be more personable, to open up for once. If Zoe sees the disappointment in my expression, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, her lips tip up in a smile that I don’t quite trust. “You did lose another one this morning, but I haveaplan.”

Zoe and “plans” go about as well together as kindling and fire. Straight up, her plans are more likely to combust than to put out the already blazingflames.

I comb my fingers through my hair, and I tug at the strands in frustration. “Not another feature piece withFame, right? My masculinity can take only so much blush, foundation, andconcealer.”

“Don’t forget thespeedo.”

Laughter climbs my throat. “Pretty sure there’s a certain part of me that will never forget thathorror.”

Her cheeks bloom with a pretty blush, and I’m not surprised at all when she changes the topic slightly. “I’m surprised you even know whatconcealeris.”

I don’t, not really, but I know enough that it’s supposed to hide the dark circles under your eyes. I figure I’m a lost cause on that front, but only because sleep eludes me on a near-nightlybasis.

“Is this where I pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about to preserve my masculinity?” I say, leaning my shoulder against the frame to stare down at her. “I’d offer to prove it, but I’m not up for rejectiontoday.”

Her cheeks turn even more pink, and satisfaction flares through me. It never fails—teasing Zoe is the highlight ofmyday.

Shifting side to side on her mile-high stilettos, she purses her lips. “Can we be professional for amoment?”

I lift a brow, knowing it’ll drive her crazy. “I’mprofessional,Zoe.”

“When itsuitsyou.”

“Is there anyotherway?”

“You could, you know, try being pleasantforonce.”

I can’t help it—she’s so buttoned up, so Miss High-and-Mighty, despite the fact that her childhood was anything but. And, Jesus, but her snippy attitude turns me on as much now as it did when we first met twoyearsago.

Maybe that’s the only reason that I shift my weight and let my hands rest on the top of the doorframe. I see her hollowed out breath the moment that I feel my T-shirt rise above the waistband of my shorts. “How am I not being polite? I didn’t slam the door in your face. We’re having a perfectly nice conversation. Am I supposed to start whipping puppies out of thin air next,orwhat?”

She steps near, edging closer, until she’s right in front of me. And then, because Zoe Mackenzie is nothing if not an unbreakable hard-ass, her fingers find the hem of my shirt and tug down. “You’re trying to distract me, Andre. I know your game. But it’s not going to work. Let me in thehouse.”

The feminine scent of citrus accosts my nose, and it’s so strong and so fresh, that I’m tempted to throw caution to the wind and wrap my arms around her in a hug. My fingers dig into the frame, and I fix my gaze on her face. “You gonna say themagicword?”

“Abracadabra,” she says dryly, her fingers still tangled in the cotton of my shirt. “Opensesame.”

I let go of the frame with one hand, then close my fingers over hers. “Those weren’t the magical words I was talkingabout.”

“Please.”

“As much as I like to hear you say that word, Zoe, that’s not it either.” She jolts when I use my hold on her to tug her close, closer than she expected, until her willowy curves press against my chest. The hitch of her breath rings like victory in my ears. “How ’bout we try this one more time, eh? Repeatafterme.”

“I’m not repeating anything,” she mutters, the words muffled thanks to the fact that she’s speaking into myclavicle.

“Sure you will.” My fingers release hers. “Now, repeat after me—Andre, you are a godamongmen.”

Her laugh is just as contagious as I remember it. “There’s no way I’msayingthat.”

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