Page 32

*
Sure enough, at 5:25 p.m., there’s a knock on my door, and I go over and answer it.
“Oh!” My eyes widen at the sight of him in a smart navy business suit, carrying a laptop case. It’s a three-piece with a navy waistcoat—very Fraser—and a white shirt. I thought he might have worn a bow tie—very Indiana Jones—but instead he’s chosen a light-blue striped tie. “You look nice,” I comment, going out and closing the door behind me.
His gaze skims down me like a laser beam. I’ve chosen to dress semi-professionally, thinking that maybe it might help me stay in the business frame of mind. I’m wearing a cream jacket and a matching skirt with lots of tiny soft pleats, a pretty peach vest, and high-heeled, cream strappy sandals.
His gaze reaches my feet, and he studies the sandals, then returns his gaze to mine. He looks a touch exasperated.
“Do I look okay?” I ask, concerned. I’ve twisted my hair and used a claw clip to hold it up, leaving one long strand which I’ve curled to hang to the side in a glossy spiral. I’ve taken care on my makeup, too, using black eyeliner drawn out in wings, and a bronze eyeshadow that brings out the orange flecks in my eyes.
“Good enough to eat,” he says. “Which is giving me all sorts of ideas, and I think we n-need to go to dinner before I c-carry you back inside and act extremely unprofessional.” He turns and walks away, toward the main building.
I jog to catch up with him, my pulse racing, and he glances at me. “You okay? You’re blushing.”
“Oh my God, Fraser, I wonder why.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?”
He frowns. “Okay, now I’m confused.”
I press my hand to my forehead as we walk, hoping I don’t fall off my high heels. “You say these things as if they’re nothing.”
“What did I say?”
I blush even hotter. “You said I was good enough to eat, and it was giving you ideas.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, so?”
“I don’t… I can’t… do you mean… were you talking about… you know?”
“Yes, Hallie, I was referring to oral sex.”
“Oh my God.”
He laughs. “What?”
I shake my head. Fraser glances at me, then stops walking. I take a few more steps, realize he’s stopped, and turn to face him. This is beginning to be a pattern.
“Please,” he says, looking pained, “please don’t tell me Ian never went down on you.”
I blink, and just shake my head.
He stares at me. I stare back.
“I don’t know what to say,” he states.
Neither do I. He looks genuinely dumbfounded.
“I didn’t realize you were that kinky,” I say, hoping that a joke might lighten the moment.
He doesn’t smile, though. “Oral sex isn’t kinky,” he says flatly.
I give a short laugh. “Fraser, seriously…”
“BDSM is kinky. Fetishes are kinky. Oral sex is a standard sexual practice.”