Call On Me. Roni Loren
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neither, rip up this frigging form and forfeit any remnants of your sanity.”
“You know, I’ve always wondered if the people who create government forms spend their free time tying people up and torturing them.”
Oakley’s skin prickled at the low, smooth voice, the melodic sound like a soft stroke to the back of her neck. She spun in her office chair, poised to say Excuse me?, but nothing came out when her gaze collided with her visitor. At least six feet of lean, tattooed, blond bad boy was lounging against the counter and looking straight at her.
The guy gave her a conspiratorial smile and leaned a little closer, cocking his head toward her pile of papers, his eyebrow ring glinting underneath the lights. “I mean, only a sadist would make anyone try to fit letters into those little boxes.”
He was talking about documents, but he may as well have asked her if she’d like to go out back and get naked for the way her body responded to the comment. Oakley swallowed past the dryness in her throat, trying to regain her professional composure despite her rogue hormonal reaction to the man’s presence. This guy clearly was in the wrong place. Who walked into a children’s charity and started making jokes about tying people up? Maybe he wanted the tattoo shop down the street. Though there didn’t seem to be any spare spots on his arms to fill with ink. “Can I help you, sir?”
Yes. Good. That sounded calm and professional. Go her.
“No need for the sir.” His lips tilted, mischief sparking in gold-green eyes. “I didn’t say I was a sadist. But yes, I bet you can help me.”
Yes, she could. Right out of that tight T-shirt.
No, no, no. Stop. What the hell was wrong with her? Hello, libido, meet Mr. Not My Type.
The man kept close, like this was some secret conversation. “I’m here to talk to the leggy blonde who runs this place. She here?”
The words snapped Oakley out of her lust haze. Leggy blonde? Oakley straightened, affronted on behalf of her boss. “If you mean Mrs. Vandergriff, she has a parent in her office right now. Name, please.”
He tilted his head at her cool tone. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Name, please.”
He rose to his full height and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, vague amusement on his face. “Pike.”
She was about to ask his last name, but with a name like Pike, she doubted it was needed. “You can take a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here when she’s done.”
He glanced at the row of chairs in the small lobby. “Or you could take a break from the torture and give me a tour of the place. I’d like to know what I’m signing up for.”
She lifted a brow.
No way did he have a kid who qualified for services here. She’d taken a good long look at him now that he’d given her some breathing room. His worn jeans and vintage Dead Kennedys T-shirt may look thrown together, but she recognized expensive threads when she saw them. She’d taken that course in looking artfully casual once upon a time. Plus, imagining him with a kid just didn’t compute. He looked like the guy you’d try to keep your kids away from.
“You do realize that you or your child have to be under eighteen to sign up for anything? And we don’t give tours. We protect children’s privacy here.”
He grinned, undeterred. “I can see why Tessa puts you at the front.”
Oakley straightened the file on her desk and gave him a tight smile back. “Because I’m so welcoming and warm?”
“Exactly.” He eased forward again, challenge dancing in eyes framed by sooty lashes. “What’s your name, o’ powerful gatekeeper? Something about you seems so familiar.”
Her fingers tightened around the file, his nearness and evaluating look making her heart skip a few beats, but she kept her reaction off her face. It was near impossible that anyone could recognize her these days. She’d changed her hair color from blue back to the natural dark brown, was a decade older, and at least fifteen pounds heavier since she’d been anyone worth recognizing. “Oakley Easton.”
His eyes narrowed as if trying to place her. The name wouldn’t be familiar to him even if he were close to the mark. But he gave up soon enough. “Guess we haven’t met.”
“I just have one of those faces.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, his gaze drifting over every inch of her features. “I’d remember your face. I think it might be your voice. There’s something about it.”
Oh. Shit. She swallowed hard. No way Pike could be one of her callers. She didn’t know much about him, but she had all the information she needed by looking at him. Tall. Confident. Sporting a body that made her want to stand up and hang over the desk so she could get a better look. He could walk into any bar or club and make panties drop with a smirk and a head nod. This would not be a guy who’d pay per minute for phone sex.
She attempted an air of nonchalance. “Lots of people have similar voices.”
“True. But I have an ear for them. And yours is unique—smoky with some rasp in it. I like it.”
Somehow the simplest, most innocuous words sounded illicit rolling off his lips. I like it sounded like I’d fuck you in her head. Paired with his intent focus, she was fighting hard not to squirm in her chair. She cleared her throat. “A voice fetishist. That’s new.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Dammit. Nighttime Oakley was not supposed to make an appearance at the day job. She worked hard to keep them separate.
Pike chuckled, the sound rich and full, like cashmere brushing over bare skin. “Maybe I am. Kind of comes with the territory.”
Territory? That’s when it clicked.
She should’ve pinned it from the start. Tattoos. Piercings. Attitude. She’d known enough of the type to last her a lifetime. Distaste filled her. “You’re a musician.”
He eyed her. “Wow, clearly, you’re impressed. You look like you just smelled something bad.”
“It’s not …” But it was, and she didn’t know how to finish the sentence without sounding even ruder. She picked up her phone and hit a button.
Tessa answered on the first ring. “What’cha got for me?”
“Was just checking to see if you’re done with your meeting. There’s a guy here to see you—a mister … Pike.”
“Seriously?” Tessa said, triumph in her voice.
“Uh … yeah.”
“Amazing. Bonus points to my brother-in-law. He actually got him here.”
Pike reached over the counter and plucked a butterscotch from Oakley’s candy dish. She gave him a you’re-invading-my-personal-space brow lift, but Pike only grinned and dragged the wrapped candy between his teeth to suck it out of the cellophane. Obscene. Especially when he didn’t look away from her the whole time. Her body stirred in a way it hadn’t in longer than she could remember. Very, very stupid thoughts entered her mind.
She smoothed her lip balm and tried to tamp down her body’s ridiculous response. Maybe she had some genetic malfunction. This was exactly the type of guy who shouldn’t flip her switch. She’d already been burned by this kind of wildfire. No, not burned. Incinerated. “Would you like me to send him back?”
“Sure, that’d be great,” Tessa said, the sound of shuffling papers in the background. “Is Ella coming in to relieve you this afternoon?”
“She should be here any minute.”
“Great. Because there’s something I need to run by you after my chat with Pike.”
“No problem. I’ll be in the music room