Page 31 of Ink & Desire

“If you’re okay with everything in there, be back here at 10am tomorrow for your first day.”

I smile at him. “I’ll be here.”

He doesn’t answer my smile. “Read it all before you decide."

“Okay,” I say.

He dips his head once in a single nod and I get the feeling he’s dismissing me. That was a quick meeting. He could have emailed me this contract instead of making me come all the way down here. Not that I’m going to mention that to him. I glance around at the empty shop, stalling.

“Do the others not work on Mondays?” I ask.

He follows my gaze and lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Depends. I let them decide which day of the week they’d like to take off. Jessie usually takes Mondays, so she’s off today. Noah takes Sundays off to spend with his family. He’ll be in a little later. You can choose one of those days to take off, too, if you like. They’re usually our slowest days, so you won’t miss as much if you’re not here.”

I nod, my opinion of him shifting slightly with the new information. A boss who lets his employees choose their day off. That’s not what I expected from Corbin James. But I’m starting to realize that there’s a lot I don’t know about this man.

“They’re not exactly employees,” he says as if reading my mind. “They pay to use the space, but they provide their own supplies, and they bring in their own clients.”

I nod. “Makes sense.”

“But part of their contract is that they work a set number of days per week and communicate with me about time off, so I’ll know what’s going on. But I’m not their mom. They can come and go as they please.”

I nod again. “So, you don’t have a piercer on Mondays, then?”

“Noah and I are both licensed to do piercings,” he says. “But we prefer to tattoo. We take walk-ins for piercings but not tattoos. I usually offer clients the option of waiting until Tuesday for Jessie. But Mondays are usually our slowest day of the week anyway, so it doesn’t happen all that often.”

That’s good to know. “What’s your busiest day?”

"Friday and Saturday are usually the busiest."

“Makes sense,” I say. “Everyone with a 9-5 job has weekends off and wants to go out and do something wild.”

“Getting a tattoo isn’t all that wild,” he says.

There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, so I look over at him hoping to catch a glimpse of that sexy grin again, but he’s just watching me, his expression almost unreadable. There might be something in his eyes that hints at amusement, but it’s hard to tell.

“Putting permanent art on your body?” I say. “Letting someone mark you that way? It’s a little wild.”

I watch his face carefully as I speak, noting the slight lifting of one corner of his mouth before he quickly masks his amusement with indifference again. Satisfaction courses through me at being able to elicit even that small reaction from him.

“Maybe a little,” he concedes. “But I can think of a lot wilder things someone could do.”

My mouth goes dry as we stand there, silently eyeing each other, the air heavy with all the things we aren’t saying. Why do his words conjure up all sorts of fantasies of wild things we could do together? Or things he coulddoto me? I feel my face heat with the beginnings of a blush and turn away before Corbin can see it. I don’t need him wondering what caused it. Or worse, knowing what caused it. I don’t think either of us has forgotten the scene in the club the other night. There’s no doubt that we’d both been turned on. But that’s the last thing either of us wants now. Whatever attraction we may feel for each other isn’t important. We need to focus on our professional relationships.

I clear my throat before speaking, hoping my voice sounds natural. “I’ll be here at 10 tomorrow.”

He nods toward the folder in my hand. “Read over that and be sure this is what you want.”

“Okay,” I say. “But there isn’t anything in here that’s going to make me change my mind. Just so you know.”

He sighs. “I figured you’d say that. Guess we’ll see how it goes.”

“I guess so. I’ll see you tomorrow, Corbin.”

He doesn’t say anything as I turn to go. I’m reaching for the door when I hear him speak.

“Avery?”

I freeze, my hand on the door handle. It’s the first time I’ve heard him say my name, and the sound of it catches me off guard. My stomach does a little flip as I realize that I don’t hate the sound of my name on his lips. I turn back to him, determined to keep my thoughts off my face.

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