Page 6 of Challenged By the Ex-Military Tattoo Artist

"Oh honey, you are in so much trouble - and you're absolutely going to let him mark you up some more, aren't you?"

My silence and sheepish grin are answer enough. This man has bewitched me completely, and there's no stopping the delicious descent.

Two days later

I'm a bundle of anxious energy as I fuss over the displays in my shop. Every item has to be perfectly placed, the floors immaculately swept, the front counter polished to a shine. Because any minute now, Max could stroll through that door.

I pause to check my reflection in the mirror by the dressing room, smoothing my hands over my blouse and skirt. A subconscious part of me wants to look put together when he arrives.

To remind him that I'm a professional businesswoman, not just someone to fluster with heated looks and suggestive banter.

But then my gaze catches on the butterfly winking at me from my wrist, and my resolve falters. Max has already marked me, staked his claim in a way that feels primal and thrilling. As much as I try to remain composed, he's managed to get under my skin - literally.

The bell above the door rings out, the familiar sound sending my pulse skyrocketing. I whirl around, piercingly aware of every crease in my clothes, my slightly flushed cheeks.

And there he is, all jacked handsomeness and inked skin peeking from beneath his tight black t-shirt.

"Maria," he greets, his deep voice like a caress. "You're looking...prepared this morning."

I tilt my chin up a notch, "Well, I do like to be professional when conducting business dealings."

"Of course," Max replies easily, stepping further into the shop. "I wouldn't expect anything less from such a dedicated owner."

His appreciative gaze roams over me in a way that makes heat prickle along my skin. I force myself to meet his stare head-on, refusing to be the first one to look away.

"I've cleared the back room completely so you can assess if the space will really work for your needs."

Max nods, seemingly unruffled by my all-business demeanor.

"Lead the way. I'll take another look before we hash out the details."

I turn on my heel and head towards the back room, hyper-aware of Max's heavy footfalls behind me. The scent of his earthy cologne washes over me, and I fight the urge to inhale deeply.

Reaching the door, I push it open to reveal the now-empty space, the bare walls and hardwood floors putting the room's modest size on full display.

"As you can see, it's not huge," I begin, crossing my arms over my chest. "But the lighting is decent, and there's space for at least one station, maybe two smaller ones if you don't need much room to work."

Max steps past me into the room, surveying the area with a contemplative look.

"You've got that right - it's a bit tighter than my usual digs. But I can make this work, at least temporarily, while I get settled."

I nod, watching as he circles the perimeter, likely visualizing furniture placement and work setups. It's easy to get distracted by the flexing muscles of his shoulders and back as he moves.

I really need to stop ogling him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"So," he turns back to face me. "What're you thinking in terms of a rental price?"

Snapping out of my momentary lapse, I quickly rattle off a figure I deem fair based on the square footage. Max considers it for a beat before giving a decisive nod.

"Sounds more than reasonable to me," he agrees easily. "When can I start moving some equipment in here?"

"Whenever you're ready," I reply, proud of myself for maintaining a professional detachment. "We can draw up a basic rental agreement to make things official."

A glimmer of something I can't quite place flashes in Max's eyes, but he simply inclines his head.

"Sounds like a plan," he says smoothly. "I look forward to working out all the particulars with you...in detail."

The emphasis on those last two words is almost imperceptible. But it still manages to send a shiver of awareness down my spine, making me very glad our negotiations are just getting started.

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