Page 15 of Speed Trap

“Janie, do you want coffee?” I called down the hall.

I usually wouldn’t, but as I seemed to be the sole occupant of the lower floor offices, I didn’t stress about calling out to her. When I got no reply, I checked my watch. It was just after midday. Hell, the video had taken me that long?

Well, at least it was done. I’d organized a few appointments to present completed PR campaigns to clients early in my day, then focused on the ones that still needed work.

I crossed the hall and headed for the coffee machine. My mug sat next to it, freshly washed. I grinned. Janie was anabsolute gem. Five bags of beans sat on the counter. A little Post It proclaimedtry this one. I opened them all for a sniff test anyway, but had to agree with Janie’s choice.

I tipped the beans in, delighting in the dark aroma that swirled around me, and set everything up to grind. My shoulders ached from sitting in the chair, and I wondered if I had time to schedule acupuncture in the next few days. I rolled my shoulders, squeezing the muscles with my fingertips.

Hands knocked mine aside and replaced them in a smooth movement that left me frozen.

“You’re tight,” a voice commented behind me.

A voice I took a moment to recognize, because his dark, smooth tones were so out of place in an office environment.

I squeaked out an indignant and high pitched noise better suited to a squashed piglet or maybe a tiny bird. “Hawk!”

“Coops.”

“What are you doing in my office?” I started to turn back to face him, but he nudged me forward, not halting in his massage.

He hit all the right spots without asking me a single thing. I couldn’t justify pushing away the relief I had craved so desperately. Worse, he was right. I was tight, though I didn’t think that was how he had meant it. My face flamed at the double entendre.

“Would you believe I was working here?” Amusement laced his voice.

I tilted my head back, resting it against his shoulder to look up at him for the simple pleasure of contact with another person, even if said person was a fine male specimen. “I would absolutely call you out.”

“I’m working here.”

“Bullshit.”

Hawk laughed, filling the small room with his presence. “Damn, Princess. I love that about you.” He nudged my cheekwith his chin, bristles brushing soft skin as he encouraged me to straighten.

I huffed. “You don’t know me.”

“I know plenty about you, Coops. I know you work for a man you shouldn't. I know you deserve a better boss. I know you have good taste in cars, because I spotted yours outside. The cobra is yours, right?”

“It was my father’s. I looked after it after we lost him.”

“We?”

“My sister and I share a townhouse.”

“Must be nice to have someone to come home to. Somewhere not…empty.” A wistful note entered Hawk’s voice.

I hesitated for a second then took the plunge. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you?”

He laughed again, squeezing my arms in an intimate gesture that dropped my stomach from its usual position into freefall. “No, no one is waiting for me. Not a girlfriend, or a dog or goldfish. It’s not the life for it, is it? What about you, Sunny? Husband? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” His breath brushed my cheek as he spoke.

Goosebumps erupted over my body. I gave a little shiver as he returned to his massage. One arm slid around my waist, snagging me back against his chest as he worked the stubborn knots at the crook of my neck.

I sucked in a breath and he stopped. “No, don’t stop,” I whispered. “It’s just—that’s been bothering me for a bit.”

It felt wrong to ask a man who had obviously stalked me in an effort to get me to work for him, but while he was here...well. I wasn’t above using him to get what I needed. Not when it involved those hands that had proved so very useful and a pain threshold that demanded I did something about it before I ended up with a migraine.

“Boyfriend?” Hawk prompted, his fingers splayed across my stomach.

“No boyfriend,” I managed.

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