Relatively Risky by Pauline Baird Jones Read Free Book Online

chins up in invitation. No sign of inviting in her old-young eyes. He held out his hand, determined to get some reaction from her. When she reciprocated, he gripped it, lifted it to his lips, his mouth lingering against skin that tasted unexpectedly sweet. His fingers wrapped her wrist again, settled where her pulse should race to betray her—
    Before he could find a flutter, her hand was gone once more and she’d moved past him. It felt like rejection, though it couldn’t be. Must have been a retreat. She’d not known what to do with a man such as himself. Of course she wouldn’t know what to do. He turned and saw Sarah looking at him over Nell’s head. Her appreciate gaze soothed—not that his ego was bruised. Not by an ordinary, clueless, annoying female.
    He smiled at Sarah. To show chagrin was to expose weakness. He widened it to include Nell as she half turned to offer a prim, “Good-bye.”
    â€œUntil we meet again,” he corrected, waiting for the blush—which wholly failed to appear. She did pause, her head tilted, her gaze once again curious and assessing, then, with a quick half smile, she passed from his sight. Her retreat sounded different, not like retreat at all. He’d heard many women walk away from him. None had sounded quite so…indifferent.

    F rom her attic eyrie , Nell saw Afoniki leave, moving with a long, confident stride toward the street, a broad shouldered man falling into step behind him. Once he’d slid into a limo and pulled away, Nell grabbed her portfolio and clomped downstairs, happy to be back in shorts and boots. Sarah, who had to have heard her coming four flights away, waited at the bottom.
    â€œWell?”
    Nell grinned. “Rutabaga.”
    Sarah’s brows shot up. “But the guy is—”
    â€œThere are very handsome rutabagas.” Probably. “You should study them instead of just whacking them to bits with your seriously huge chef knife.”
    â€œI don’t have time to study my veggies when I’m cooking. Or when I’m not.” Sarah turned, heading back to the office, her cool summer dress a perfect frame for her tall, slim figure. Nell followed her, fingers itching to sketch, though her muse was torn between capturing her “rutabaga” on the page or going for a classic, semi-vintage of Sarah. That twenties style and Sarah were a match made for a muse. And then there were all the other images tumbling in her brain, not unlike how her body had tumbled this morning. Twice.
    Unable to sort through it all, Nell sank on the arm of the chair recently occupied by the rutabaga, wrinkling her nose at the heavy scent still lingering in the still air.
    â€œI don’t know what the big emergency was.” Nell tossed the portfolio into the other chair, rather pleased at its perfect landing.
    Sarah half shrugged from her spot behind the desk. “He didn’t tell me when he called.”
    â€œMaybe he just wanted to see you?” Sarah made a face, prompting to Nell to add, “He is rather gorgeous.”
    Sarah leaned back. “And?”
    Nell traded chairs with her portfolio, which reduced the scent intensity to bearable, and considered the question. “A bit brooding. A bit…creepy.” Now that she thought about it, more than a bit. If she drew animals—which she didn’t—she’d have cast him as a tiger. She didn’t say it. He was a client and she could be wrong. She often was. “You looked him up.”
    Sarah looked everyone up. She and Google were besties.
    She nodded. “Add womanizer and ruthless to creepy.” Sarah frowned. “Hints of something more. The stench of not quite legal hanging around. If we lose the booking, I won’t cry.” She straightened. “What was that ‘til we meet again’ about?”
    Nell chuckled. “No clue.” She frowned. “I have no experience of course, but it did seem a