Emily
AFTER STRAIGHTENING THE papers on my desk for the fifth time, I forced my hands to release them and, instead, smoothed down my skirt. This was a client meeting. I’d held thousands of them over the years. Why was I so nervous?
Before the question had even formed in my mind, I knew the answer.
It was tall and muscular, with deep blue eyes, perfect lips, and a beard that’d make every Seattle hipster weep.
“You all ready for the sexy biker?” Jayson asked, peeking his head into my office.
“He’s just another client,” I reminded us both.
“Right. Totally what I meant.” Jayson rolled his eyes and headed back to his desk. “But I bet you’re wearing the sexy underwear today.”
I was. I was also regretting taking Jayson to Victoria’s Secret with me. I hated to shop, though, and he and his shenanigans made the experience tolerable if not entertaining. Especially when he’d wadded up a nightgown and shoved it down the front of a mannequin’s panties, giving her a formidable penis and almost getting us kicked out of the store.
After taking a few moments to straighten the paperwork once again, I shouted back, “Nope, granny panties! The biggest pair I could find.”
Someone cleared their throat. I looked up in time to see Link standing in my doorway. Heat flooded my cheeks as I stood.
“Your eleven o’clock’s here,” Jayson said in a sing-songy voice as he swept into the room behind Link.
The mirth in Link’s eyes somehow managed to be both endearing and humiliating. With no hope of redeeming this second impression, I gestured at the chairs in front of my desk. “Please, have a seat.”
“Coffee?” Jayson asked, taking over so I could compose myself as I sat.
“Please.”
“Sugar? Cream?”
“Black’s fine.”
The scandalous look Jayson gave me spoke volumes. Yes, I was aware that Link was hot, but my assistant needed to get over it.
“Black coffee. Anything for you, Ms. Stafford?” he asked.
Yes, my pride. But since I didn’t think he could help me with that, I asked for a coffee as well. Jayson scurried off, leaving me alone with a very handsome, irritatingly happy Link. Today he wore the same outfit: jeans, a T-shirt, a black leather vest with patches on it. Maybe it was all he ever wore? Didn’t matter, because it looked sexy as hell on him.
Needing to focus on the matter at hand, and not the way the short sleeves of Link’s T-shirt rode his enormous biceps, I scooted the paperwork across the desk. “I started to fill this out, but realized I don’t know your name. Link won’t get me far if I need to come after you for breach of contract.”
Damn, I sounded like a bitch, but I couldn’t help it. Something about Link made me want to attack him, either with my body or my words. Since I’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future, words were safer.
“Dead Presidents don’t breach contracts,” he said, his gaze capturing mine. “Our word means something to us, Ms. Stafford. When we give it, we mean it.”
I’d clearly struck a nerve, but I was too busy wondering what a man who kept his word would taste like to be sorry. “Well, that’s good to know, but I’m still going to need you to sign this agreement.”
I slid the forms to him. Link read everything over and signed where he needed to sign before passing them back.
I glanced at his name. “Nice to have you as a client, Tyler Lincoln.”
We shook hands and I filed the papers away. Business concluded, we both stood, but neither of us stepped toward the door. I had another client in fifteen minutes, hours’ worth of work from yesterday to make up for, and I could not seem to force myself to usher the sexy biker out of my office. He also seemed reluctant to leave.
“It would probably be a good idea for you to come by the station,” he said, finally.
“The station?”
“The Club’s base of operations. Where we all hang out. Havoc serves as my Sergeant at Arms, and the entire club respects him. You can interview whoever you need to and see if you can’t dig up some halfway credible character witnesses for him.”
Character witnesses. Yes, I’d need those. And if I had to go to a clubhouse full of sexy bikers to do it, well… I’d be willing to make that sacrifice for the job. I’d been to worse places after all. Plus, I’d get to see Mr. Tyler Lincoln in his natural habitat. The experience would be educational at the very least.
