Animal Instincts Read Online Free Page A

after all.
    Royce offered me a sexy smile of greeting.
    My senses reeled and my mouth went dry; a lump formed in my throat. That smile…it was lethal. Pure lady-killer. Run, my mind shouted. Get out of here.
    Where were my wits? My cunning? My blood instinct?
    I would soon be chatting with this perfect man, maybe even shaking his perfect hand. At the thought, my nervous system kicked into high gear. How could I shake his hand when my own felt like a swamp? I had to do something to calm my nerves. But what? My stepdad’s advice to “picture those who make you nervous completely naked” didn’t apply here.
    Royce Powell…naked….
    I slapped a polite smile on my face and decided then and there to think of him as a turkey-and-cheese-on-rye sandwich. I did not like turkey and cheese. I hated rye.
    He rose, his gaze lowering and lingering on my lips, and held out one hand. We shook. When he pulled back, he wiped his palm on his slacks before reclaiming his seat.
    My professional expression never wavered.
    I hoped.
    I cleared my throat. “I realize I’m seeing you later than scheduled,” I said, just in case Elvira, Queen of the Damned, hadn’t let him know of my early arrival, “but I’d like it noted that I did, in fact, arrive ontime.” Tardiness was one of the biggest sins in the world, in my estimation.
    His smile grew wide with amusement. “So noted.”
    My knees almost buckled. His smile was bad enough, but throw in that voice and good God! Its deep, husky timbre flowed as smooth and rich as expensive brandy. He’d spoken only moments before, but he hadn’t spoken like this. All husky and low, as if he were lying in bed after a vigorous session of sex. Raunchy, I-screamed-my-brains-out sex.
    He watched me for a long, silent moment. Then, “Please—” he motioned with his chin “—have a seat.”
    Nodding, I eased down and set my briefcase aside. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but where’s your mom? I didn’t see her leave.”
    He didn’t seem put out by my question; in fact he appeared even more amused by me. “She went out the side door.”
    “Oh.” Smart woman. She wouldn’t have to deal with Elvira again. “I spoke with her over the phone last Friday,” I said, getting down to business. I’m calm. I’m professional. “I’m not sure I fully understood the facts. She wants me to plan a surprise party, doesn’t she?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yet she also stated that the party was to be given in her honor.”
    “Don’t try to understand her. It will only drive you insane.” He didn’t offer any other information. He just gave me another of those I’m-the-best-lay-you’ll-ever-have smiles.
    Was the ground shaking? “When I spoke with her, we didn’t have a chance to discuss my fee.” The most important matter, to my way of thinking.
    “Money isn’t a problem,” he said, his eyes again roving to my mouth.
    My cheeks heated. I had to get to a mirror ASAP and make sure I still didn’t have dirt on my face. “I can’t in good conscience continue until we’ve agreed upon—”
    “Whatever the party costs,” he interjected, silencing my protest, “I’ll pay it.”
    Was he that enthused about celebrating his mom’s next step closer to death’s door? Or did he love her so much he wanted the woman happy, whatever the cost? “Mr. Powell, that’s not a wise thing to tell a woman who hasn’t yet named her price.”
    “True.” He chuckled. “Why don’t you work out the specifics and fax me an estimate.”
    I nodded. “Excellent.”
    “Good. Now, please, call me Royce. And I’ll call you Naomi.”
    My name on his lips somehow seemed too sensual, like a mating call of some sort—a mating call my sexually bankrupt body definitely heard. I clamped my mouth shut before I did something stupid, like say out loud that yes, I’d have his babies. I managed another nod.
    A high-pitched beep sounded a split second before I heard Elvira, Harpy of Doom, say, “Mr. Powell, Mr. Phillips