Again, he scrolled through the images. Again, he had to admire Drea’s taste. The women she’d picked were absolutely gorgeous. “Hmm.” He meant that appreciatively. “Hmm.” Was it odd to be ogling attractive women with a beautiful woman looking over his shoulder?

Beautiful? Where had that adjective come from? Though, he had to admit, with each passing moment Andrea Dawson was more and more of a pleasure to look at.

He continued to scroll, landing on a particularly enticing model. A naked enticing model. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that.” Even with her body contorted to hide her private parts, the image was quite erotic.

“Uh, yeah.” Drea shifted nervously next to him. “Those models. Sex sells, they say.”

Without realizing what he was doing, Blake clicked on the image, making it bigger. Then again he clicked and suddenly he was on another website.

Drea put her hand on his shoulder, her fingers digging nicely into his muscle. “Oh, don’t do that. That takes you off the Pinterest site to—” Her voice cut off as the screen filled with another image of the same naked model, this one not so modest. “Oh, my.”

Blake swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Wow.” The image changed again, apparently part of a slideshow. This time the model was wrapped around a naked man, her head thrown back in pleasure with his mouth anchored on her bare breast.

Drea gasped behind him. Blake felt that he should do something, get off the website they were on, but he was frozen in place.

The next picture came up. It featured the same man and woman now curved around each other in a position that seemed near impossible to get into. That had to be listed in the advanced version of the Kama Sutra.

“How do they—?” Drea leaned in to examine the image further.

The pressure of her body on his arm, her overwhelming scent, her auburn curls swinging against the bare skin at his collar, all while looking at what could only be called erotica—it wasn’t any surprise that Blake’s pants suddenly felt tight.

“That’s … wow.” But he wasn’t looking at the tablet anymore. He was looking at the real live in-the-flesh woman next to him.

As if sensing his gaze was on her, Drea’s eyes flicked to his. They were warm and hazy and alluring. Had he noticed that before? He couldn’t remember. And her lips—they were full and plump and rosy, close enough that he could kiss her if he just moved in …

“Uh, maybe we should get back to the photos I selected.” Drea took the iPad from his hands.

“Yes.” Blake cleared his throat, hoping that would clear his mind from whatever it was he was just thinking. Because the thoughts that had been filling his mind were of Andrea in the place of that female model, and him in the place of the male. So wrong and yet so …

No, they were simply wrong. That’s all. He needed some fresh air. Needed some space. Needed to be done with looking at near-pornographic pictures with his employee. “I mean, no. You don’t need to get back to your photos. I’ve seen enough.” He rolled his chair back and to the left, distancing himself from Andrea. And he definitely didn’t meet her eyes. “Those women fit my tastes to a T. The ones you picked. Not the other…” He waved his hand, not able to voice what the other pictures had been. “Well, you know.”

Drea seemed to need the same distance. She was already halfway back to the armchair. “Good. Then I’ll start finding some dates and setting things up.”

“Perfect.” It was perfect. Funny that he had to tell himself that. “And the home items—order whatever you wish. I added you to my business account.” He stood and walked to her again, wishing he’d remembered to give her this when she’d been near him. He stopped at a long arm’s length away. “Here’s a card. You can use this to buy items for the house or to make reservations at restaurants when necessary. Or hotels.”

Why had he said hotels? Was he trying to make this more awkward than necessary?

“Right. Hotels.” Her tone was curt as she took the card and placed it in her purse.

God, she had to think he was a complete man-whore. “Later, of course. Not yet. Anyway, good job.” Everything he said seemed to increase the uneasiness. And there was still the matter of his semi pressing in his pants. Had she noticed? It was eye level from where she sat in the chair.

Maybe complete man-whore was an accurate label.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you’d like, you may spend the rest of the day working on this from your home. You obviously have the information you need from me. No need to keep you here longer than necessary.”

“No need at all.”

He tried to read her tone—was she eager to be leaving? Or disappointed to be dismissed? He couldn’t tell. He wished he could.

But why does it matter? The question flooded his mind as he watched her gather her things. “I’ll see you to the door.”

She waved him off. “I can find my way. I may stop and look around your front room a bit more before I leave, if you don’t mind. Take some pictures for reference.”

“Go ahead.”

He stared at the empty doorway long after she’d left, her scent wrapping around him as if she were still there. Finally, he shook himself from his trance and returned to his desk.

What was it about the woman, anyway? Time and again she seemed to affect him in ridiculous ways. Maybe her perfume was one of those pheromone scents—the type meant to attract a man at a primal level. Yes, that had to be it. Tricksy woman. Simple enough to deal with. She was gone now. He would find some Lysol from his housekeeper to cover any traces of her. Next week he’d make sure to have the janitor put an automatic air freshener in the room. That ought to take care of things.

He emailed the janitor immediately with his request. But he didn’t end up asking Ellen for Lysol. He tried to tell himself it was because he was too focused on his work, but he couldn’t lie anymore—he liked the smell of Andrea Dawson. Whatever that was about, he didn’t know, and he was sure he didn’t want to dwell on the matter. For one day, though, he could live with her scent in his office. He’d even let himself enjoy it.

Chapter Seven

Andy shuffled around the apartment, not caring that she was already probably going to be late for work. It wasn’t that she was nervous about going in—actually, that’s exactly what it was. She was shaking-in-her-socks nervous and she couldn’t even begin to say all the reasons why.

After she’d left Blake on Saturday, she’d spent the rest of the afternoon racking up charges on his business card with purchases for his home. That had felt good. She’d never realized how much fun it was to spend money, never having had much of it herself. Although she’d certainly imagined it enough times.

But after she’d finished with her shopping spree, she’d been at a loss as to what she should do next. She was certain she had a grasp on the type of woman Blake wanted to date, only where to find her? Should she take out a Craigslist ad as Blake had? She imagined the headline—Wanted: Attractive, preferably Asian, woman to date sleazy bachelor and ignore his lack of humanity in exchange for an account at Nordstrom. No personality desired. Serious inquiries only. Her gut told her that wouldn’t attract anyone decent. Well, gut and brain.

She’d scoured her own social media accounts looking for anyone local who might fit the bill. No one. Besides, did she really want to submit her friends to Blake’s arrogance? Not if she intended to keep her friends.

Saturday night she’d tagged along with Lacy to a gig hoping she’d find a suitable candidate there. Not even close. She’d gazed around the room at various women and ruled them out one by one. The one with blue streaks in her hair? No, she obviously enjoyed attention too much to be submissive. The flawlessly beautiful brunette standing by the stage? Oh, just threw her undies at Lacy. This one, too hip, that one, too hippy. The show was a complete bust.