Page 85 of The Fixer

“I don’t mix business with pleasure. Ever,” he spouted like an idiot. Never mind that he’d never had a client as alluring as Joy Holiday before.

Her other eyebrow rose to meet the first one. “What do you call what we were doing on the dance floor or in the back of the car if it wasn’t mixing business with pleasure?”

“A mistake.” He flinched, though her expression remained even. “I don’t date my clients. I don’t sleep with them. That’s a hard-and-fast rule.” And right now, a regrettable one. “I tiptoed over that line earlier, but I shouldn’t have. I can’t go any farther than that.” Was he trying to convince her or himself?

She reclined on the couch and stretched like a cat, raising her hands over her head. When the hem of her shirt hiked up, the moonlight cast a silver glow on an enticing slice of smooth skin he ached to taste. He’d never seen a sexier sight, and his resolve faltered.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she purred, her whiskey gaze locking on his.

He ransacked his incapacitated brain for any way out of his predicament—preferably one that landed them both naked in her bed—but he kept running up against that same wall. She was a client.

Or was she?

It hit him like a sledgehammer on a nailhead. She wasn’t a client. She was hispartner. Didn’t that mean a different set of rules applied? Except doing the dirty with your partner was probably aworseidea.

He stepped toward her, his knees bumping the edge of the couch. She stared up at him with naked desire, exposed and so damn vulnerable it made him want to scoop her up.

His body made up his mind for him.

“What the hell?” he rasped. “Rules were made to be broken.” Heart slamming against his chest wall, heat rolling through his bloodstream, he leaned over her, bracketed her body with his arms, and searched those liquid-gold eyes he wanted to submerge himself in.

“Can I kiss you?” He’d never asked a woman for permission in his life. It had been there for the taking, and he’d taken. But with her, he was filled with a reverence he couldn’t wrap his brain around, causing him to hover over her with a hesitancy completely foreign to him.

She rose up partway and wrapped her fists in his shirt. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Her beautiful face filled his vision, and as he was about to take her mouth, the bedroom door banged open. A man’s silhouette filled the doorway.

“Joy? What’s going on?”

Joy’s scream rang in Charlie’s ears. He leaped to his feet, his hands clenched at his sides. In that same instant, Joy swung her legs to the floor.

Someone flipped a switch, and light flooded the room. The man came into sharp view. Charlie quickly took in slicked dark hair, smooth features, and a lean build. He was … pretty. There was no other word for it. Dressed in pajama pants and a T-shirt, he looked as though he belonged there. His mouth hung open, and his surprised eyes bounced between Joy and Charlie.

Joy pulled herself to her full height, legs apart, arms crossed in a warrior stance. Charlie’s instincts zeroed in on putting himself between her and the stranger, but he wasn’t sure what was going on. He also wasn’t sure if himprotecting her was what she wanted, so he waited for her cue, his muscles taut, coiled, ready to spring.

“What in God’s name are you doing here, Sterling? And how did you get in?” Her voice was a menacing growl. Obviously, she wasn’t happy to see him, whoever the fuck he was. Charlie stayed rooted where he stood.

The guy—Sterling—pointed a finger at her, but he made no other threatening moves. “Your back door was unlocked, so I let myself in. As for why I’m here, it’s because I was worried. You’ve been impossible to get a hold of.” His eyes shifted back to Charlie and hardened. “Now I know why.”

Oh, okay. Not so pretty when you’re pissed off at seeing another dude with your …Wait. What was this dickwad to Joy?

“I’ve returned every one of your texts, emails, and calls,” she snapped. “And let me point out that you only called once.” She held up her index finger. “Once! And you left a voicemail saying you were calling to say hello and I didn’t need to call you back. So I didn’t!”

“Well, you should have called me back.” God, this guy sounded like a bratty five-year-old.How lame can you get?

“Are you checking up on me?” she shot back, her eyes hurling daggers that would have cut the guy to pieces if they’d been real. Charlie almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “Is this a personal thing, or are you worried I won’t hold up my end of the business? Which, if you’d checked with Estelle, I’m holding up just fine. I don’t recall chasingyoudown whenever you leave on one of your ‘vacations.’”

“Is that what this is now? Avacation? I thought you were closing out your mother’s estate.”

“Seriously, Sterling?”

Fuck me!Had Charlie fallen into the middle of a couple’s quarrel? He perched his hands on his hips. Fortunately, his hard-on was no longer … hard. “Joy, who is this asshat?”

Sterling reached across himself and scratched his shoulder. “Joy, can we take this somewhere private?” He gave Charlie a pointed look, and Charlie returned it—with a few extra points.

Joy’s shoulders slumped. Weary-eyed, she turned to Charlie. “Um, this is my business partner, Sterling Calloway.” To the asshat, she said, “Sterling, this is Charlie Hunnicutt, the contractor who’s working on my mother’s store for me.”

“Looks like that’s not all he’sworking onfor you,” Sterling scoffed.

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