Page 6 of Under Daddy's Spell

Smooth and warm, like melted chocolate, his voice was as beautiful as the rest of him. And his eyes, a brilliant ice blue, seemed to cut through her with their intensity. She’d heard people refer to piercing blue eyes before but never quite knew what that meant until now. Everything about this man was mesmerizing, from his long gold-tipped black lashes to the light scruff of beard on a chiseled jaw and pair of full, soft-looking, kissable lips.

That’s where her gaze fixated as her imagination careened wildly with all the things she could do to that mouth. Better, what it could do to her.

As the seconds ticked by and she didn’t—check that, couldn’t—answer, his mouth kicked up on one side in a half smile.

“Was there something you needed, Miss...”?

“Tessa—” Mortified because she croaked like a frog, she swallowed and tried again. “Tessa Delacroix.” She thrust out her hand. “I own the shop next to you.”

“Tournez La Page. Great name for a bookstore,”he stated as he took her hand, not shaking it but instead, firmly squeezing.

Instead of tittering like a giddy adolescent at the warm hand enveloping her own, Tessa tried to act like an adult. She keyed in on his correct pronunciation of Turn the Page, in French. Turn-ez lay page, with a hard Z, is what she usually got.

“I...uh... Thanks.Grand-mère immigrated from France. The name of the shop was her idea.”

“Did she teach you the language?Êtes-vous fluent en français?”

“No. Sadly, she passed when I was very young, and I’ve forgotten most of what I learned of my high school French.”

“Is it a family business?”

“Yes. My grandparents opened the original store downtown, in the French Quarter, seventy years ago. My parents took over for them, and now it’s my turn. The already astronomical lease rates kept going up every year, so I moved it to the suburbs. There isn’t as much tourist traffic, but what I save on overhead makes up for it.”

Tessa stopped her nervous babbling. His gym opened in three days, and he was clearly busy. But she’d arrived out of the blue and started spewing her life story. He didn’t ask for or need her information dump and clearly wasn’t interested because he tried to move things along.

“So, Tessa, what can I do for you?” He gestured to his half-put-together gym. “As you can see, we’re still setting up.”

Her gaze shifted behind him. Not looking at him brought a glimmer of clarity.

“I hate to be that kind of neighbor who starts off with a complaint, but I’m here about the music. Could you turn it down a bit? I’m not only a bookstore but a coffee shop. Many of my patrons like to hang out and read or use the Wi-Fi. I even have authors who come in for a change of venue to write. I'm afraid Nine Inch Nails at 100 decibels isn’t conducive to concentration.”

As if on cue, a guitar riff blared from a nearby speaker.

Jordan moved to the counter that extended from the lobby around the corner into the gym. He stretched his long arm over the top to hidden controls, she assumed, because the music reduced by half. Now, it was more like background music than a heavy-metal concert, a level she and her customers could handle. His crew groaned and protested immediately.

“Sorry,” he told her, ignoring them. “My membership likes to work out to something fast-paced and heart-pumping, but we’ll try to keep it down to a reasonable level.”

“Thank you.” She held her hand out again, this time offering him the stack of coffee coupons she’d brought with her. “These are for your crew or customers, whichever. I mentioned the coffee, but we also have a selection of fresh baked goods each morning.”

“Appreciated,” he said as he took them. “If you send folks my way and they mention your name, I can give them 30 percent off their first month’s dues. I’ll have some coupons made up and get them over to you.”

“That would be great,” she answered with a smile. It faded when, while glancing around to keep her eyes off him and correct the impression she was a complete airhead, she spied a sign for a smoothie bar. “Although... Are bodybuilders allowed caffeine and, heaven forbid,pastry?”

She whispered the last as if it was a naughty word and in return, received the full wattage of his smile.

It had to be a sin to be so beautiful.

“Most of these guys won’t look at carbs while training, but coffee with cream is acceptable as long as it’s not loaded with sugar. If it washes down a cheese danish every once in a while, no harm, no foul.”

“I also have books, lots of them, including an entire section on health and fitness.”

At this, he laughed. “I’m not touching that one and being accused of insulting my gym rats.”

“Smart,” she said with a grin.

“I’d better get back to work. As the giant banner out front says, we open Monday, which is less than seventy-two hours from now, and I’m kind of freaking out.”

She knew a freak-out when she saw one. This man exuded an aura of confidence and self-control, a world away from so much as a hint of panic. She should know; she averaged at least one meltdown a week.

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