This week's Snippet Saturday theme is Birthdays. I didn't sign up for it initially since I thought none of my stories involved a birthday. So imagine the 'face/palm' moment I had when I realized the entire plot of Private Property revolves around the hero's planned birthday present to the heroine goes awry.
copyright© 2009 by Leah Braemel
“Jodi Tyler, I’d like you to meet Sam Watson.”
Sam Watson? As in the owner of Hauberk Security and Mark’s college buddy? Jodi closed her mouth when she realized her jaw was hanging open. Was this some sort of joke?
“So is this really your place, or are you checking me out to make sure I meet your company’s qualifications?”
“Yup, place is all mine.” He smiled as he picked up the cigar, his gaze flicking over her again.
“As for checking you out, there ain’t a man alive who could fail to admire your…assets.”
Annoyed at being held captive by the man who would soon be her new boss, she placed her hands flat on Sam’s chest and pushed. And failed to budge him at all.
“Since you own one of the biggest security firms on the east coast, you obviously don’t need Mark to upgrade your security—so why have me break in? Oh, and in case you haven’t heard, there’s a law about sexual harassment of employees. So you’d better have one damned good lawyer.”
Sam’s eyes widened; he quickly stepped back, letting Mark take his place.
“Relax, babe.” Mark rubbed her shoulders in a move meant to pacify her but she batted them away.
Jodi shoved the paper in Mark’s face. It was either that or kick him in the groin. “This list was supposed to be just between us. How could you humiliate me like this?”
Mark cleared his throat and cursed softly in Spanish. “I’m sorry, babe, I wanted to surprise you for your birthday—you know, so we can cross the rest of those items off your list. I thought it would be funny. Sort of an icebreaker. “
“Funny?” She thumped her fist into his shoulder. “You have a twisted sense of humor. Besides, what could possibly be on there that you’d need to show to a perfect stranger?”
Sam waved his cigar toward the paper that was now a crumpled ball in her fist. “You might wanna refresh your memory and read number six there, sweet pea. Ol’ Mark here’s asked me to help fulfill that particular fantasy.”
With a growing dread, she scanned the list, her eyes widening.
6. I’d like to have a ménage with Mark and another man that we could trust.
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