Page 17 of Purrfectly Trapped

But it didn’t. She had to work to snap herself out of her momentary daydream about him slamming her up against the wall and kissing the daylights out of her.

Yowza.

The image was promising.

What? No. Bad girl!

Gretchen was running a business, not a lonely hearts club for fluffy chicks, for fuck’s sake. Finally, after she’d gotten him to release her, she walked with him to the front of the store.

She knew she would feel better if she could just keep this professional and squash the alarmingly quick attraction she’d felt for the stranger. Gretchen was a realist. She was not stunning like Jessica, cute like Kylie, or lovely like Elissa.

She was just Gretchen Kaepernick. A boring brunette with a boring name. Well, not boring exactly. She’d added a few bright blue and purple highlights to the sides and bottom of her thick hair. The colorful streaks were especially visible when she wore it up. Like she was now.

Her tattoos were her best asset as far as she was concerned. Gretchen loved body art and from what she could see peeking out under the sleeve of his t-shirt, the handsome stranger had some of his own. Looked like something on the back of his arms and she wondered if it was a whole piece and how far it went across his enormous body.

Do not think about his body,she ordered herself.

Tapping her neatly trimmed nails with their fresh coat of polish on the counter, she tried not to think about how good it would feel to trace the lines of his tribal ink on those bulging biceps of his.

No piercings that she could see, though she wouldn’t mind either way. Gretchen limited her own to her ears, but she was still a fan. She had nine tattoos. Most were in places easily covered, but just lately she’d toyed with the idea of adding another on her shoulder. More likely she’d just start coloring in her largest piece.

She’d never shown it to anyone, except Elissa. Being single for over a year now, there was just no occasion to show it off. The tattoo wrapped around her right hip, touching the top of her right buttock, and reaching up to the underside of her breast. It had taken over six months to finish, but it was worth it.

The image depicted a tiger blossom tree, her favorite scent, and a big, beautiful Bengal tiger stretched out underneath the foliage. When she’d come across the images separately in a tattoo parlor, she’d begged the artist to combine them in a way she’d never seen before, and the result was stunning. Gretchen loved it.

Though the piece was mainly black, she’d had the woman add just a hint of orange and pink to the blossoms. For some reason, she’d also had the tiger’s eyes colored in a deep, dark blue. The artist had laughed and said tiger’s eyes were yellow, but Gretchen wanted them blue.

She’d always been fascinated by the big, striped cats. They were by far her favorite animal. So regal and majestic. The stranger, what did he say his name was? Oh yeah, Reg. Well, he sort of reminded her of a tiger.

It was in the way he carried himself, like he was stalking her instead of walking behind her. She wondered if he was a tiger in the bedroom.

Blushing at her thoughts, she turned and smiled at him, trying to distance herself behind her new businesswoman persona.

“I want you,”he’d said with a deep rumble in his voice that made her knees weak and panties wet.

Gulp.

“Thank you, um, but I would prefer to give my stylists the first clients. You know, to build confidence in the shop.”

“Well, they aren’t here yet, right? I don’t have much time, and well, Gretchen,” he said her name, voice dropping even lower, and she shivered in response. “I would really love it if you could take care of me.”

“Uh, I’m not sure-”

“Please?”

Shit. He’d used the magic word. Gretchen was a sucker for a softly spokenplease. She cleared her throat and nodded. Part of her was jumping up and down with excitement.

Heck yeah, she could take care of him. All. Night. Long.

Eeek! No. Bad girl.

Now was not the time for naughty bedroom thoughts. She had a head of hair to save and a face to uncover underneath all that scratchy scruff. She didn’t mind facial hair on a man, but this guy’s beard and mustache needed to be taken in hand. As in, it needed to go.

“Okay, well if you insist,” she replied and walked back over to where she’d sat him down.

“Thank you,” he said, flashing a panty-melting grin her way.

Day-yum.

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