The Proviso by Moriah Jovan Read Free Book Online Page A

extraordinarily exotic to her.
    Those eyes, that face: Perfect weapon.
    Giselle felt the heat between her legs, the wetness,
as she examined him head to toe, shameless in her inspection,
wondering what lay beneath all that finely tailored silk, wool, and
cotton . . .
    . . . wondering how long she’d remain a “good little
Mormon girl” if that man had the good sense to ask her
out.
    She reluctantly drew her gaze away from him to look
over her shoulder at Ralph, who had lost all color. He stood to his
full height, though it gave him no advantage against this beautiful
stranger’s height and mass.
    “Pack up your desk, Ralph,” the man rumbled.
    “You don’t work here.”
    “I’ll inform your boss I’ve invited you to hand in
your resignation. I don’t think he’ll mind.”
    “Aw, man,” he whined, but forced a laugh. “It’s just
a little running gag Miss Cox and I have some fun with, right,
Giselle?”
    “Pffftt. Nice try.”
    “Your office better be cleaned out when I leave here
tonight.” His order, so final, so threatening, made Giselle want to
take another quick glance. Her breath caught at his power.
    “You can’t prove anything.”
    The man crossed his massive arms over his broad
chest and drawled, “Can’t I.”
    Ralph’s lip curled and he glared at Giselle before
stalking off, as if it were her fault. She supposed that in his
mind, it was.
    “Thank you,” she said with her most flirtatious
smile. She looked at him wide-eyed, wanting— begging —him to
invite her to . . . something. Dinner, maybe.
Ballet-theater-symphony-opera, preferably. She would love to dress
up for this man. “I was afraid I’d have to take him out back and
give him a good spanking.”
    He didn’t laugh at her dumb joke. “You’re welcome,”
he said tersely, turning to go.
    Damn!
    “Well, wait,” she said and offered her hand for him
to shake. Her flirting lacked finesse because she was too direct,
too open, too . . . unpracticed. It had never mattered to her
before this moment when she needed to stall him long enough to
figure out how to keep his attention. “I’m Giselle Cox.”
    His eyebrow rose and he stared right back at her,
ignoring her hand. “Miss Cox,” he murmured with a slight sneer and
a curt nod. His disparaging glance swept her from head to toe, then
he turned again to walk away.
    Her breath caught and her chest hurt right behind
her sternum the way it had the only other time a man had left her
breathless. She could only stare after him, stunned, speechless,
moisture stinging her eyes.
    She recovered herself in time to snap, “So I guess I
did something to deserve that.”
    He stopped short and she studied him further while
awaiting his apology.
    A custom-tailored olive silk/linen blend suit
accentuated the perfect musculature of his torso. The hems of his
pants cuffs gathered artfully upon the leather of his Italian
loafers. His sleek hair just brushed the collar of the white shirt
peeping up from his lapel. Precisely half an inch of snowy cuff
appeared from the sleeve of his coat. His left hand—as scarred as
his face—bore no ring and contrasted sharply with his cuff. Diamond
cufflinks sparked tiny rainbows in a random stream of last-gasp
sunset.
    Turning halfway, he pinned her with that weapon he
had. She felt dizzy under that stare, his disfigured beauty
radiating raw sex and power. His expression remained stony. “I’m
sure,” he replied, his tone measured and precise, “that you think
you’re entirely blameless.”
    Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Oh, no.
No. Men did not talk to her like that. She drew up every bit of her
five feet, four and five-eighths inches, done with her starry-eyed
infatuation. “’Scuse you. You don’t know me from Eve.”
    His eyebrow rose at that. “Lilith, maybe?”
    With that, he continued on his way, leaving her
dumbfounded, breathless, and thoroughly aroused.
    * * * * *
    What the hell had made him say that?
    Shock.
    Shock at seeing