Page 50 of Sinful Justice

I snort. “I’m embarrassed for you. That was the worst segue ever.”

My phone trills and brings my attention away from the street as we cross from one block to another. Wrestling my cell from my pocket with cold fingers, I bring it up and frown at the unknown number on the screen.

Accepting the call, I bring the device to my ear and hiss at the icy wind.

I need to get to the store soon and buy more layers. My hands and ears are freezing, my coat isn’t even close to warm enough, and my pants are just pants; no insulation.

“This is Doctor Mayet.”

“Minka.” Archer Malone’s seductive voice warms every part of my body that complained of the cold only a second ago. “How are you?”

“Busy. What’s up?”

“You alone?”

I look across to Aubree. “No, I’m not.”

“Am I on speaker?”

“No.” I bring my coffee up and take another sip; if I don’t, my insides might freeze. “What do you want?”

“Well,” his voice is like the smoothest sandpaper over wood. Rough, but with a sheen of sexiness and sophistication that makes my thighs tingle. “We have a lot of work to do today. But for the next five minutes, we’re off the clock.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick!

“Okay…”

“I wanna finish what we started,” he grits out. “I wanna see you tonight. Or today on your break, or this morning,” he groans, “and we can sneak into the bathroom. Wherever, Minka, whenever, I wanna finish what we started.”

“Wildly inappropriate.” I wrinkle my nose when Aubree glances across at me. “I can’t have this conversation with you.”

“Why the fuck not? We’re off the clock, you want me, and I sure as shit want you. For some ridiculous reason, you won’t admit it. But when we’re together, you can’t stay away.”

“Sounds to me like a recipe for disaster and a good reason for me to stay away.”

“Sounds like addiction,” he counters. “You don’t want to want me, but you can’t help yourself. Just one more hit.”

“Terrible analogy.” I shake my head and slow at the end of the second block, check for traffic, then cross. “Addiction is universally bad. Everyone knows that.”

“Only when what you’re addicted to is bad for your health.” His breath comes through the call and sends shots of electricity deep into my stomach.

Screw him, because he’s right. It sure as hell feels like an addiction. I’ve known this man for a matter of days, and I swear when I’m not in the same space as him, it feels like I’m tiptoeing into withdrawal.

But is he an addiction the way I need air? Or the way a junkie will sell their soul for another line of something that’ll kill them anyway?

“I see you.” His voice comes a little softer now. A seduction rather than a demand. “Kinda pisses me off that you look so good.”

“What?” My eyes snap up and stop on Archer waiting outside the George Stanley, his feet set apart, his muscular legs wrapped in jeans that make my mouth water, and his hand pressed to his ear.

His hair is still wet from his morning shower, which means even though wind whips around us and throws my hair back, his stays mostly still.

Twenty feet away from him, Charlie Fletcher makes his own phone call, his left hand in his pocket, his right pressed to his ear, but where Charlie’s smile is boyish and goofy, Archer wears a scowl and a mean glare.

“Shit.” Hissing, Aubree slows her steps to match mine so our shoulders bump as we walk. “You’re so dead, Minka.”

“I’m not dead.” Then speaking into the phone, “You’re fooling yourself if you think you intimidate me.”

“Don’t I?” I hear his smirk, then in real-time, I see it. “I intimidate Aubree.”

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