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brandy, like snuggling into down comforters, like soaking in a warm bath. Just the sight of him was sensual. The thought of touching him—it was enough to make her a little dizzy.
    Fucking pheromones. Or aura manipulation, or empathic projection, or however the hell it works.
“Mr. Kindler,” she said, putting a lot of steel and razor wire into her voice. “If you’re going to work for me, you’re going to have to learn to be
on time.
”
    Kindler still stood in the open doorway. He looked shocked, and in his shock, he was beautiful. Marla wondered if she was the first person to ever see that expression on his face, or even the first to cause it.
    “I haven’t agreed to work for you yet,” he said cautiously, “Ms. Mason. I’ve just come to hear you out.”
    Marla shrugged. “So come into Hamil’s office, and we’ll talk.”
    “If you don’t mind, Marla, I’m going to make a few calls,” Hamil said. He couldn’t take his eyes off Joshua, either.
    Marla gave her assent, and beckoned for Joshua to follow her. He moved like a cloud, and for the first time she noticed his clothes, perfectly white coat over an immaculate shirt and slacks. Most lovetalkers didn’t bother to make themselves look good, trusting their magical attractiveness to win over anyone they encountered. Marla had met a few who were disgusting slobs, who took pleasure in their ability to seduce people even while picking their noses or sucking on foul, cheap cigars. Joshua was different, special, more wonderful than the rest—
    Ah, shit.
His power was
strong.
Marla shut the door to the study and pointed to a chair in front of Hamil’s desk. She plopped down in Hamil’s huge executive chair, grateful to have the desk between them, and squelched the mental voice that lamented her choice of clothes, that wished she’d worn something more feminine than loose pants and a baggy shirt—after all, her breasts were still pretty good; she’d been a topless waitress once upon a time; early thirties wasn’t too old for him—a whole annoying line of insecure bullshit.
    Joshua sat down, gentle as fog settling over the city.
    “Let me get right to the point,” Marla said.
    “Please,” he murmured, looking at her from beneath his long lashes, eyes fixed on hers. Marla thought of pictures she’d seen of Persian harem boys, bronze-skinned and slim with girlish lips, and thought,
I’d like to kiss him all over.
    She leaned forward in her chair, counteracting her urge to lean back and stretch, catlike. “Occasionally I require certain services.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled, and Marla blushed, much to her irritation. “Not the kind of services dried-up rich women cruising in Cadillacs ask you for, Joshua. I think you know that.”
    “I would never suggest such a thing,” he said, quirking an amused smile. The look didn’t even piss her off, and her failure to get angry
made
her angry. That whole emotional tangle only served to fluster her further.
    She gritted her teeth for a moment, then spoke. “You’re charming. Unusually so. People like you,
everybody
likes you, even I like you, and I don’t like anybody. I’ve been told that I can be a little abrasive, and I don’t have a lot of patience for bullshit. My job sometimes requires a lot of diplomacy, and frankly, I don’t have the skills for it. You do, and your skills could be very useful to me.”
    “I’m sure.” He looked into her eyes. Marla wanted to pour wine down his chest and lick it off. “But I have to ask…why should I work for you when I can get anything I want just by asking for it?”
    “Because if you’re not bored with that kind of life already, you will be soon. I think you’re too smart to enjoy drifting through life, getting everything handed to you on a silver platter. You came here to meet with me because it seemed like it could be interesting, right? I can promise you interesting times, Joshua.”
    He chewed thoughtfully on his thumbnail, a gesture Marla