Page 6 of The First Spark

I mean, my lady for the evening, a prearranged good time that totally slipped my mind. At least, until she sashays through the door of Black Lotus and makes a beeline for my office.

“You ready to go, Ash?”

I glance up from my laptop, my mind blanking at her question.

She rests a hand on her hip, her lower lip pushing out in a pout. “Don’t tell me you forgot. I spent hours getting ready for our date.”

First, it’snota date, but I rarely correct women on the terminology. She knows it’s a casual hangout because that is theonlytype of dating I do. Second, I’m an asshole and not for the first reason.

Despite my packed schedule, I never forget a meetup,especially when they end up with a gorgeous woman naked in my arms.

And this woman is a looker and a half. She’s poured herself into a pair of tight leather pants and a top that barely covers her enormous tits, leaving no curve to the imagination and no doubt about her plans for extracurricular activities.

But this lovely woman also conflicts with my primary plan for the evening—my chat with Oriana Thorne.

“You’re not canceling, are you?” She shifts her weight from one heel to the other, apprehension wafting off her voice.

One thing I never do is disappoint a woman. Some men get off on shattering a woman’s confidence. I’m not one of them.

Women have no clue how spectacular they are, in every sense of the word.

I don’t believe in love, but I sure as hell believe in worshipping a woman’s attributes.

So, I slide on a reassuring smile as my gaze moves along her figure. “Of course I’m not canceling, Lydia. Just have a few things to finish up. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Do you mind sticking around?”

“For you? No problem. Do you like my outfit?” Lydia pivots, offering me a glimpse of her ample assets.

“I do.”

Hey, I’m not lying, although I wonder why women try so hard to be sexy when they’re already inherently sensual creatures. They don’t require all the spackle they slather on their faces or the surgeries to repair perceived shortcomings.

But when they feel beautiful, they also feel free. Andfreedom is so much damn fun. When I entertain women, the release of all inhibitions is my goal.

Since I don’t want to disappoint Lydia, it appears any discussion about tenancy rights with my pain-in-the-ass neighbor will have to wait for another night.

Yet another setback in my speakeasy quest.

Lydia motions toward the entrance of Black Lotus. “Take your time. I’ll be in the bookstore next door. Come find me when you’re finished.”

Fuck me.

Ineverset foot in One More Page. Even if zombies were chasing my happy ass, I’d chance it on the outside, rather than darken Oriana Thorne’s door.

She returns the favor by staying far away from Black Lotus.

Trust me, that’s theonlything the Ice Queen and I agree on.

My hope is that when I venture into Oriana’s shop to chat with her about our shared basement space, she’ll understand the gravity of my situation just by my very presence in her store.

Then, once we finish with our tête-à-tête, we’ll return to our normally scheduled avoidance.

It was a solid plan too until Lydia changed the play by going next door to shop behind enemy lines.

If I want to get laid tonight, and I’m pretty damn sure my lady friend has the same idea, I can’t holler for her from the shared hallway like an auctioneer.

Even I have more tact than that.

I’ll walk in, grab Lydia, and leave. Simple.

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