So yesterday we met Logan, the hero.... Quite something, innit? Yes, he's a hothead, and Neha's about to meet him in this tricky setup in today's excerpt. Enjoy! :)
Catch up with the previous excerpts
pages 1-5 here;
pages 6-8 here;
pages 9-11 here;
pages 12-14 here.
Get the full novel at these outlets! Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Decadent Publishing ~ Barnes & Noble (Nook) ~ AllRomance Ebooks ~ Smashwords
“Get rid of her.” He dropped his voice lower. “If you don’t do it, I will. Get it?”
Griffin nodded, and he moved away, taking a few steps back to place his hands on the back of the chair his friend had vacated.
Bloody Griffin. He hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with this problem. In his book, people of privilege who thought they could pull strings for favours were not welcome. Because they’d been born with a silver spoon in their mouths didn’t mean the world owed them everything. Logan owed them nothing, especially not her, this woman coming for the interview.
How could she expect she’d barge her way in and get away with it? Maybe she pulled this stunt off with Mauritians, but hell, he wasn’t a local. New Zealanders didn’t become known for their patience or for hypocrisy, either, so be it. Favours got you nowhere in New Zealand, and he wouldn’t tip the scale, not now, not ever.
Bloody hell, this woman didn’t come with a letter of recommendation. Worse—from the sound of it, she hadn’t even handled such a job. How could that egg deem her perfect for the job? Griffin’s brain had probably gone up in a scramble as soon as he’d heard from Lara, for whom he still carried a torch, it seemed.
Griffin flinched at the bark, but remained where he stood. “I…I…she….”
Logan threw him a withering glare. Griffin nodded toward the door.
His gaze bypassed his friend and settled on the luxurious lobby on the other side of the one-sided mirror making up his office door.
A tall, beautiful woman stood at the front desk. Chin-length black hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights and danced with every graceful move of her head. Her profile showed alabaster skin and exquisite features, the dark-lashed eyes hinting at a deep gaze. Softness and gentleness seemed to project off her, from the pretty face to the lush body clad in a white, long-sleeved blouse and ankle-length black skirt.
He forgot to breathe, until Griffin’s dreamy voice brought him back.
“Blimey, she could pass for Lara’s twin.”
Logan stared at his best friend, wishing he hadn’t heard what had been implied in Griffin’s words. The woman outside had come fishing for favours. She was also the only woman who’d managed to catch his attention for more than five seconds in the last four years.
“I guess I better go tell her she came for nothing,” Griffin said.
He cursed and whirled around to hit his clenched fist into the wall. A dull thud resounded, and he grimaced at the pervasive sting of air plunging into a knuckle cut. Blessed relief, but which this time did nothing to lessen his internal turmoil.
“Damn you, Griff, damn you,” he said in a low growl as he walked past his partner on his way to the lobby.
Neha stood in front of the curved marble desk in the station’s reception area, allowing her gaze to take in her surroundings. The room appeared bright, bathed in white artificial lights. Too bright. Almost revealing.
She reached up to touch her chin-length bob, the gesture as much a nervous tick as it had been when the strands had been three times the length. She couldn’t say she disliked the new cut, but having her hair so short the wind whispered across the nape of her neck left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.
The haircut had been the first on her sisters’ and her daughter’s list of priorities on Saturday, and she hadn’t been able to put in a word at the salon. Barely giving her time to realize she’d been shorn of the tresses she’d cared for with tender love since the age of ten, they whisked her in front of an image consultant, who’d wanted her to—gasp—wear trousers as they would make her look more willowy.
At this, she’d put her foot down. She’d never worn trousers in her life, and she wouldn’t start because of them. She’d also always been round and had never had a trim silhouette, so anyone who had an issue with that could take said issues to hell and back, but she wouldn’t budge. Skirts and dresses suited her fine. In the end, the compromise had been A-line or flared skirts and tailored blouses, as well as maxi-length dresses worn with long blazers.
The whirlwind had continued afterward, with facial, manicure, pedicure, leg waxing, full body wrap and other beautifying nonsense the others had dragged her through. Neha had started to complain, but in the end there lay no point talking to a wall, and she had to admit how being pampered did make her feel good.
A luxury, though, an indulgence. Like the thick, midnight blue carpet drowning her flat-sandal-clad feet into its soft pile.
While she waited for the receptionist to confirm her appointment, she shifted her weight from one foot to another until the pretty girl who looked no older than Suzanne motioned her toward the comfortable-looking, stuffed sofas at the other end of the lobby.
As she turned toward them, the mirrored panel to her left swung open, to let out a big hulk of a man.
A raw, untamed force of nature.
The thought screeched into her mind as he walked toward her with long, confident steps, almost like a panther. He was big, all right. Not too tall. At first glance, she’d say a little under six feet, shorter than most of the men in her family. But the solid bulk on this man’s frame did more than compensate for the staggering impact a few more inches might have given him. His struck as an imposing stature. Despite the dark colours of his trousers and shirt with their rolled-up cuffs, he didn’t appear any less huge. How had he walked through the door, when he seemed to be of twice its breadth?
Yet, the most intimidating part of him remained his face. He had short, sand-coloured hair, closely cropped. Arresting features, hard and taut. A mouth set in a grim line, as if to say he took no nonsense. A nose that appeared to have been broken a few times. Eyes dark with fire.
Neha took a step back as he approached. She couldn’t keep herself from trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and this daunting man.
He stopped in front of the desk, his deep-brown eyes scanning the length of her. Heat crept up her. Somehow, under his steady gaze, she wondered if she had a stitch of clothing on.
Who is he?
A lanky, blond man with thinning hair appeared from behind the hulk. His long, thin face looked cheerful, his pale-grey eyes sparkling. “You must be Neha,” he said with a deep Scottish accent.
She nodded. “You must be Griffin.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Neha, but—”
“Newsroom’s this way,” the hulk said in a growl as he brushed past her, heading right across from the desk into a wide corridor.
He expected her to follow.
She glanced at Griffin, who appeared as struck as she, and only stepped toward the big man as his voice floated over to her.
Full book available at Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Decadent Publishing ~ Barnes & Noble (Nook) ~ AllRomance Ebooks ~ Smashwords
From Mauritius with love,