Page 63 of The Fixer

Dixie broke up the conversation. “Charlie, someone to see you.”

He gave her a quizzical look, but she jerked her head toward the back. He excused himself and loped in that direction, the two women frowning at his back. Joy was still observing them when Dixie suddenly appeared across the bar top from Joy, her face so close Joy could smell her perfume. Joy flinched in surprise.

“Could I see you a moment?”

“Um, uh …”

“Now,” Dixie commanded through a sweet smile. She motioned for Joy to follow.

Flummoxed, Joy slid from the stool and fell in line. They passed through the hallway with the pictures and arrived in an inky vestibule that appeared to lead to an office or storage area and a back door.

Before Joy’s eyes could adjust to the gloom, a large shadow stepped from the darkness. “Dix, what are you up to?” Charlie’s deep voice was low and full of questions.

“Why, handsome, I’m saving you from that sneaky Bea and her tentacled niece.”

With an amused smirk, Charlie leaned his shoulder against the wall—Joy could see him clearly now—and folded his arms across his chest. “And just how are you planning to do that, gorgeous?” His eyes darted toward Joy.

Joy shrugged. “I have no idea what she’s doing or why I’m here.”

Dixie pointed a wicked fingernail at her. “You’re his line of defense.”

“I’m what?”

Dixie rolled her eyes. “People can be so dense. Good thing you have me.” Something rustled behind Joy, and Dixie shoved her into Charlie. “Gotta go before the boss gets mad. You can thank me later.” She skedaddled, sending Joy on a collision course with Charlie.

He straightened and unfolded his arms. Joy landed against a wall of hard muscle with an “Oomph!”

His arms surrounded her, cradling her even as she was pushing away. He relaxed his hold, and she began to wriggle free, but he abruptly cinched her tight and pulled her back to him, trapping her hands against his chest.

“Play along,” he murmured against her hair, his breath falling hot on her scalp, setting off a ripple of tingles.

Joy’s traitorous body flushed with pleasure, and her foolish heart leaped and slammed against her chest wall. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the solid feel of him under her hands numbed her brain. For a moment, she was lost.

“Charlie, I—oh,” someone squeaked behind them.

Joy peeked over her shoulder at a crestfallen Becky. The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Joy melted into him and gave him a long, sultry stare. His eyes smoldered, never leaving hers. Was this playacting or real?

“Excuse me. I didn’t realize …” Becky pivoted and fled back toward the bar.

Coming to, Joy blinked and looked at Charlie’s shoulder—anywhere but those deep sage-green eyes that burned with intensity. Guilt gave her a little stab.

She braced her palms against his chest and put a few inches between their bodies. “That was a mean thing to do. And very grade school.”

“It wasn’t my idea.” A chuckle rumbled low in his chest, vibrating her palms. He didn’t seem remotely sorry. “Take it up with Dixie.”

His arms still encircled her waist, and her hands hadn’t budged. Heat from his body seeped into her clothes, warming her skin layers-deep. His woodsy bodywash permeated the air, mixed with his own masculine musky smell, invading her senses, making her lust-drunk.

She dared look back up at him. “Why me? Why not Germaine?” Her voice came out shockingly husky.

He slid a hand from her waist to her shoulder. His fingers caressed her hair where it framed her face, his touch featherlight. Her pulse jumped. “Because you don’t like me, remember?” he whispered. “Which means you’re a safe choice. Dixie picked the right person.”

“No,” she murmured, “I don’t like you at all.” As soon as the words left her mouth, his lips were on hers, soft and tentative at first. Her hands glided up, over his pecs to his nape, and her fingers dug into his hair.

A little growl of pleasure vibrated in his throat. The kiss grew more urgent. His tongue nudged her lips, and she opened for him. His grip tightened as he licked into her mouth. Sounds like desperate whimpers escaped her; she was helpless to stop them. They seemed to fire him up, and he angled her head, deepening the kiss, exploring, tasting, taking over as he rocked against her.

“Hubba, hubba,” came a low grunt behind them, and they pulled apart like two naughty kids. Joy’s heart was racing like a rabbit’s in flight.

Charlie scowled. “Dewey? What the fuck?”

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