Page 38 of Degrees of Control

“Charlotte…?”

Oh come on, man, again?“What?”

James’ response was to stare at the steering wheel like it contained the mysteries of the universe. “Have a good night.”

Dear God, just when she halfway believed he was opening up, he snapped shut like a carnivorous plant. It made her want to scream. “You too.”

He tipped his head toward her, like the infuriating cowboy he was, and she shut the passenger door. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Charlie stood in the gutter to watch as James’ big black truck pulled out of sight.

Chapter 10

Charlie was hurt but not entirely surprised when James didn’t call. In her weaker moments she wished she’d taken up his sleazy friend’s offer and gone clubbing, that way she could have had at least one more round of blistering hot sex before it was over.

She picked up her phone a dozen times, intending to call him, but the thought of mustering up the courage only to hear amused indifference on the other end of the line was too painful. As the days passed, Sophia’s words kept resonating through her mind like a gong.He’s going to lose interest. Probably soon.

Charlie wished she could lose interest, probably soon. The real problem, she realized, as she sat in an exposed brick café, was that she had too much time on her hands. Three of her private clients had gone away on holiday, Sophia was busy with the wedding, and Belinda’s increasing pot consumption was driving her out of their apartment to contemplate her pent-up sexual energy alone. In every quiet moment, she saw his arms braced on either side of her head, smelled sweat and sex and cologne as that honeyed voice growled in her ear “because you’re my whore.”Face it, Bell, you’re completely screwed.

At least she had enough graphic masturbatory material to last an entire lifetime. Maybe she could buy a vibrator and call it James, save herself some trouble.

Her phone vibrated on the table and Charlie’s heart leapt into her mouth. Sure enough the nameJames Hunterwas flashing up on the screen. She bit her fingernail. Should she pick up? Considering he’d been ignoring her for days, she shouldn’t. Then again, what if Sophia had been in a near-fatal car crash or something? Shehadto pick up. With trembling fingers, Charlie pressed the green button. “Hello?”

“Hey, Blue-Eyes. Whatcha up to?”

Just the sound of his lovely accented voice made her stomach drop. Somehow, even her wildest fantasies hadn’t managed to do it justice. And maybe it was just wishful thinking, but there was a hint of eagerness in his tone, like maybe he was impatient to speak to her as well. Either way, it didn’t sound like he’d called for Sophia’s medical details.

“Just having a latte. You?”

“At work. I got some free time today, can I take you to lunch?”

Charlie closed her eyes. Undoubtedly a line was being drawn in the sand here. Would she consent to his flaky behavior or would she teach him a lesson and walk away? The smart thing would be to walk away. What was a little mind-blowing sex compared to your peace of mind?

“Sure, why not?”

Stupid mind-blowing sex.

“Great, you know the Walker building?”

Oh no, the fancy side of town. Going dutch on this date would probably bankrupt her, still, what was a girl to do? “Yeah I know it.”

“That’s where I work. Ask for me at reception, they’ll show you where to go.”

Before Charlie could voice her concerns regarding this plan, James hung up.

Stupid mind-blowing sex god.

After looking up the directions on her phone, Charlie found the Walker building without much difficulty. It was a big gleaming complex with an indoor pool and rooftop bar. The problem was that the glass and chrome reception looked as welcoming as an active beehive. She was wearing a white cotton smock dress, gold ballet flats and carrying a canvas tote bag. Among all those suits, she’d stick out like a handle on a bowling ball. She could text James and ask him to meet her on the street, but that smacked of cowardice. She wasn’t a pizza delivery guy.

After several minutes of pacing and unnecessary phone checking, Charlie took a deep, calming breath and walked through the revolving doors. A bored receptionist directed her to the thirty-first floor and Charlie made it to the elevator without encountering another human. She stepped out on the thirty-first floor, slightly dizzy, to discover James’ workplace was essentially a glamorous rat maze. She had no idea where to find him. She wandered aimlessly, on the verge of asking the kindest-looking person for directions when she heard her name.

“Charlie?”

She turned, wondering if James had conceded to call her by her nickname. No such luck. Joel Westwood—if she recalled his name correctly—had spotted the cheesecloth-wearing, fish-out-of-water and was advancing with a lecherous smile. “Hello there, young lady, have you come for an afternoon rendezvous with Hunter?”

Joel looked sharp in a navy blue suit and black leather shoes, but his smile should really have been framed with pointy teeth. Men like him always had to be the loudest, most obnoxious person in any given room. Show them a soft spot and they tore into it.

Get your game face on, Bell.

“Actually I’m a loan shark. I’m here to bust some kneecaps.”

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