There’s something thrilling, even a little forbidden, about a man in a perfectly-tailored suit. Flint Hopkins wears the hell out of a three-piece suit.
Not a single wrinkle.
Not a hair out of place.
Not a scuff mark on his shiny shoes.
His lips move, but all I hear is “I wore this suit for you today” as his hands make their rounds: caressing the buttons on his jacket, twisting his cufflinks, and adjusting his tie. It’s sophisticated fidgeting.
“You said you’re a therapist, not a music teacher.”
Observant men are sexy too.
“I did. And I am. Specifically, I’m a music therapist. Do you want me to explain what a music therapist does?”
“No. I just want you to look for a different space to rent. I’ll give you two weeks.” He turns and makes it out the door in three long strides.
My toes are on his heels in seconds, chasing him down the stairs. “Wait? You’re evicting me?”
“I’m giving you notice.”
“Notice? You’re kicking me out for what? Doing my job?”
“Preventing me from doing mine.” He pushes through the door at the bottom of the stairs and makes a sharp right.
“Hey, Boss, how’d it—” Amanda’s gaze moves from Flint to me as I follow him into his office.
“Hi, Amanda. Would you happen to have the name of a good real estate attorney? I may need to sue my landlord for wrongful eviction.”
Flint turns, halting my forward momentum a second shy of slamming into his chest. “Shut my door, Amanda.” His eyes narrow.
I don’t care how hot this guy looks in a suit. I won’t recoil under his glower. “Please leave it open, Amanda. I may need you to be my witness.”
Arrogance tugs at his mouth. “A witness?”
“For when you threaten me.”
He unbuttons his jacket and takes a step back. A whoosh of oxygen leaves my chest like it’s attached to him. The man has an air of confidence and mystery about him that commands attention.
When he turned around to face me a few seconds ago, I sensed the slightest agitation in his narrowed eyes and flared nostrils, but not anymore. It’s not hard to imagine Flint Hopkins in a courtroom—cool, calculated, ruthless.
“You seem to be an intelligent person, so surely you can see how the noise level of your profession could distract me from doing mine. I think sharing space with other businesses is not a good idea. You need a building of your own or maybe you should work out of your house.”
“I live in an apartment. And I’m sorry, Mr. Money Bags, but I don’t have the cash flow to buy or rent a building all to myself. You’re an attorney. How often are you even in your office? And when you are, what are you doing that requires complete silence? Charming snakes? Narrating audio books?”
About the author
Jewel is a free-spirited romance junkie with a quirky sense of humor.
With 10 years of flossing lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.
After her best friend of nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.
When she’s not donning her cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.