Page 12 of Endurance

“You’re the woman from the beach. I saw you and thought…” I didn’t finish the sentence, quickly realizing how ridiculous it would sound if I said I’d thought she was a mermaid.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to. I don’t believe we know each other. Are you Mr. Atwood?”

“That’s me. Who wants to know?”

“My name is Kalliope Benton Riley. I’m a public relations agent from Quinn & Wilkshire. Milo Birx sent me.”

I scratched my head, feeling foggy from the rough night, and I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her correctly.

“My agent sent me another agent?”

“Well, I suppose you could look at it like that, but he doesn’t handle PR. I do.”

I took a second look at her. She was slight of build and relatively short when compared to me. I estimated her to be no more than five feet two inches. My six-one frame towered over her, yet her small size still managed to have a commanding presence in my doorway. Her bohemian dress attire didn’t suggest business professional in the least bit. The tribal-print blouse hung just low enough to see the swell of those breasts I’d been admiring. The shirt was knotted at the waist, where a long apricot-colored skirt flowed over her hips, stopping to skim the tops of her sandaled feet. Large silver hoops hung from her ears, with matching bangles on both wrists. She reached up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear, revealing a certain amount of careless grace in her movements.

Her overall look had a hippie vibe to it, and as much as I wanted to punch Milo for sending a PR rep to my house so early in the morning, at least he had the sense to send someone who was sexy as sin. The fact that I’d spent the night dreaming about her made it even better, and I couldn’t push away the intrigue I felt. She made an definitive impression, seeming small-town yet worldly, innocent yet cunning, and beautifully exotic in every sense of the word.

Feeling more than just a little bit curious, I cocked my head to the side and offered her a small smile.

“Okay. Despite the early hour, I’ll play along, Ms… What did you say your name was?”

“Kalliope Benton Riley. But you can call me Kallie.”

“Well, then you can call me Sloan. You might as well come on in.” I stepped aside and allowed her to enter, noting the subtle mix of patchouli and vanilla that emanated from her as we made our way to the kitchen.

Holy hell, she smells damn good too.

I motioned for Kallie to sit at the kitchen table while I put on a pot of coffee. If I wanted to get through this with a clear head, I needed a boost to wake my ass up. So consumed with needing caffeine in my veins, I was barely conscious of the takeout containers littering the table and floor until I saw her disapproving stare. My house had an open floor plan, leaving the mess of clothes, empty bottles and cans, and car magazines scattered about the living room in plain sight. I tried to ignore her as my need for caffeine suddenly turned into a need for something much more substantial.

“Can I get you anything?” I offered. “Coffee? Soda?”

“I’m okay, but thanks,” she replied.

“Suit yourself.” I shrugged, scrapped the idea of making coffee, and grabbed a Pepsi from the refrigerator. Caffeine was caffeine, no matter what the form. Cracking it open, I casually leaned against the wall and took a long swig.

“Mr. Atwood, before we begin discussing business matters, I must insist that you put some clothes on.”

Glancing down at my bare chest and tattered Formula One sweatpants hanging low on my hips, I grinned awkwardly. I hadn’t looked in a mirror, but I must have been quite the sight. I absently brushed my fingers over the three-day-old stubble on my face. If the taste in my mouth was any inclination to how I must smell, I could only imagine what she was thinking. Her tone was light, but I could sense the condemnation. I reached up and smoothed out my hair as best as I could, slightly embarrassed to be seen this way. Still, I couldn’t help but notice her furtive glances at my torso.

The side of my mouth quirked up. I couldn’t say why, but something about this woman made me want to toy with her. I wasn’t naïve. I knew how women looked at me—and Kallie didn’t seem to be immune. I took a step closer and leaned down, so one hand was pressing on the table.

“I would have dressed, but I wasn’t expecting company. Does my naked chest make you uncomfortable?” I teased, deliberately lowering my voice to just above a whisper. She glanced at my chest again before quickly averting her eyes. My cock stiffened when I caught sight of a delicate blush sliding into her cheeks.

Fuck, is she ever gorgeous.

When she swallowed hard, blinked, then crossed and uncrossed her legs nervously, I half wondered who was actually toying with who. I barely knew her, yet all I could think about was spreading her out on my kitchen table so I could taste every inch of her creamy skin.

Seeming to catch herself, she frowned. Angling her chin in defiance, she gave me a cutting stare.

“If you had checked your messages, you would have known I was coming,” she replied, effectively side-stepping my question. She tossed me a warning look, and the meaning couldn’t have been any clearer. She was letting me know that my interest in her was duly noted, but it wasn’t going to be reciprocated.

Standing upright, I returned to my position against the wall and shrugged. “Yeah, well… I’ve been preoccupied with a few things.”

“Mr. Atwood—”

“Sloan,” I reminded her.

“Sloan, why don’t we get right down to the reason I’m here?”

---