Page 16 of Undertow

Her grin widens as she scans me. Hard. No question I’m her type.

I’m everyone’s type when I need to be.

“I know most people. But even if I didn’t, I’m pretty sure I would have remembered you.”

“Yeah?” I give her my best crooked smile and wait as she melts into it. “What’s your name?”

Charming and playful might not work on Julia Hartford, but it’s definitely working on this one.

“Nicole.”

“Hi, Nicole. I’m Shaw.”

“Shaw. Like the writer?”

Not sure which writer she’s talking about, but that connection will work well for me. “Damn. Is everything about me so obvious? I’m like a pathetic lost puppy, huh.” I infuse just enough sadness into my banter to trigger… that.

She leans closer, her eyes locking on mine. I sense her desire to touch me. Just a small brush to comfort the unfortunate stranger, she’d tell herself. She’d feel the same for any guest in this situation, right?

Except, I’m not any guest. I’m a tantalizing puzzle she wants to solve and experience and maybe ravage later tonight.

I rest my hand on the table, tempting her. Sure enough, her focus shifts to my fingers. So predictable. Her gaze moves to my lips where it settles, hungry and eager.

“Definitely not pathetic,” she says with a coy smile. “If you?—”

“Everything okay over here?” a woman interrupts.

Nicole blushes and straightens. “Fine. Just helping a customer. Um, this is Shaw.”

I shift my attention to the intruder and hold steady through the direct appraisal of Julia Hartford. No doubt in my mind. Her gaze drifts over my face before traveling down my chest and arms, which are clearly on display through a fitted Palmetto Grande uniform shirt. Two open buttons at the top reveal a tantalizing peek at the tattoos running from my chest up my neck. The crisp white sleeves rolled to the elbow also contrast perfectly with the intricate art on my forearms.

I’m the picture of an enigmatic rebel. Exactly what my research told me she’d want. When her eyes linger on my face with a flicker of heat, I know she’s taking the bait.

Inside, my heart is pounding. Outside, she sees the same disgustingly attractive, “unemployed poet” Nicole just met.

She sees what I want her to see.

While Julia scours me, I use the opportunity to make my own assessment. Her hair is shorter than the photos and has been lightened with highlights. She looks her age, almost twenty-six, per the reports. But what makes her unmistakable is the severe expression and guarded look in her eyes. The research said she was smart. Cunning would be a better word. She’s not just intelligent; she knows how to use it.

And I like that.

A lot.

My heart rate picks up at the impending challenge. What will it be like to seduce someone I’m actually attracted to?

“He just got fired from The Palmetto Grande,” Nicole says, interrupting the long silence.

Julia’s stern expression intensifies at the announcement. Interesting.

I try to read more, but come up empty.

“Sorry to hear that. Why’d they fire you?”

I let my smile fade as I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Um…” I glance around the room, as if searching for something. “I probably shouldn’t talk about it.”

Curiosity flashes in her cavernous eyes, now scanning me with open interest. Her focus rests on the graphic image on my hand. I’m not surprised that one would catch her attention.

“Doesn’t he look like an artist?” Nicole says.