Read His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1) for Free Online Page A

his
jeans, drawing attention to his heft.
    Goodness.
    He looked up and caught the direction of
her gaze. She jerked her eyes up and closed her mouth, surreptitiously she
checked for unwanted drool.
    Busted.
    She could only hope he hadn’t caught the open-mouthed
guppy look Charlie had warned her about. A weird energy filled her and Anabelle
couldn’t stay still. She stacked her samples, cleared away clutter and
straightened her sample bins. “It’s hot in here.”
    “Is it?” Charlie glanced between Anabelle
and Derek as he worked on the install. She remained in front of the computer
where Anabelle presumed she was still on the hunt for a match.
    “I think I have a fan in the storage room.
I’ll go check,” she said over her shoulders and hurried off.
    The storage room was filled with seasonal
boxes, client files and miscellaneous crap she couldn’t part with. Most days
she avoided the room because it served as a reminder of her failure to fully
complete her ‘things to do’ list.
    Today, the stuffy room was sanctuary, her
hideaway hole from the embarrassment of being caught acting like a hungry
cougar.
    Anabelle banged her forehead against the
wood shelving. Dust motes and the scent of pine filled the air. She palmed her
hot cheeks, hating the itchy sensation this fixation with Derek had brought
about. To continue with it was madness, her professional mode of operation was
in jeopardy and she couldn’t allow it.
    She took a deep breath, trying to clear her
head. She refused to allow her little crush control over her life. It was time
to take charge once more. A strategic maneuvering of boxes and magazine holders
revealed a familiar cord.
    “Success at last,” she muttered. For a
moment she considered staying put and plugging in the fan to cool off so she would
no longer resemble a chili pepper.
    Maybe it was time for a Cupid’s Match
coffee date. KayakLover looked normal or at least relatively normal in that his
photos showed a man smiling rather than one with a constipated death glare. The
photos were of assorted outdoor activities with friends, which meant he wasn’t
an antisocial hermit. A definite possibility and maybe he’d be partial to
progressing at a slower pace. She wanted to get laid but she didn’t think her
heart could handle an experienced Casanova.
    Her phone buzzed.

 
    I have
details on your blind date with the doctor. Call me. You’re not getting any
younger. Mother.

 
    Good grief.
    If she didn’t get on with Cupid’s Match,
her mother would pimp her out. She shuddered at the scary thought.
    “Hey.”
    She started, she’d been lost in thought and
hadn’t heard his entrance.
    “Hey there, Derek. What can I do for you?”
    She turned and faced him grateful he’d put
his shirt back on. The room had shrunk in the span of a moment and he stood
close. There wasn’t room to step back since her old drafting table was behind
her, her bottom rested against the edge. He moved closer and her temperature
soared.
    “Wanted to check on you. Thought you might
have fallen into a rabbit hole, you’ve been gone for so long. Need any help?”
    “I’m ok. I found the fan but got distracted
with this mess.”
    “Let me help.”
    She shook her head. No way did she want to
be stuck in here with him. If she didn’t get him out, she couldn’t guarantee his
safety. The combined scent of Irish Spring and the essence of Derek hung heavy
in the confined quarters. It was too tempting. If he knew he was on the verge
of being tackled, he might not be so relaxed.
    “Nope. I’m good.” The close distance invited
intimacy so she avoided eye contact, choosing instead to stare straight ahead.
If she made eye contact, the connection might hypnotize her into doing
something idiotic. She could imagine his embarrassment if she gave in to
temptation and licked his neck. Poor Derek. He was a nice guy so he’d be
embarrassed for her.
    The exotic wood carved necklace provided a
welcome excuse so she pretended