Free Nine Inches of Snow and the Ebony Princess by Gracie C. Mckeever

street, give and ta—”
    “Okay, okay.” He chuckled, put up his hands as if in surrender.
    “You’re absolutely right. I have to apologize for dragging you into this.”
    That was more than she expected, but less than she deserved, and Tabitha waited for the other shoe to drop. She was sure he had something up his sleeve, especially when she realized what he had said. “Dragging me into what?”
    “Vega vendettas and power struggles.”
    “I’m not following.”
    “I have to be honest, my sister damn near twisted my arm to sell me on the idea of a makeover and personal shopper.”
    “You don’t have to feel obliga—”
    “But , now that I’m here I’m getting used to the idea of having a fashion consultant.”
    “Let’s get something straight, I can’t work miracles.”
    “I don’t expect you to.”
    “And I won’t do anything to your wardrobe you don’t want me to do.”
    “I leave myself and my wardrobe at your total discretion, Tabitha.”
    She stopped herself from sputtering at his silky warm murmur, the sound of her name on his lips, still waiting for that big size twelve desert boot to drop.
    At the thought, he did lower his right foot to the polished parquet floor, rolled his chair closer before leaning his elbows on her desk.

    Tabitha purposely held her ground, though she was tempted to roll her chair back an inch or two, his clean musky scent riding the wind to her nostrils and making her light-headed.
    It should have been illegal for a man to smell as good as he looked.
    “Well, ah, that’s good to hear.”
    “And I promise to cooperate and be a good boy for the rest of our meeting.”
    She didn’t think he could or would keep that particular promise, not even if he tried, not a “good” bone in that big well-built body.
    “Scout’s honor.” He raised his hand and grinned at her silence.
    “Were you?”
    “Was I what?”
    “A Boy Scout.”
    “Even better. I was an Eagle.”
    She wasn’t that up on what the qualifications for an Eagle Scout were, but she was sure they were pretty extensive and doubted that Eric’s footloose and fancy-free mien had held him in good stead with the fraternity.
    “I could show you my merit badges,” he said at her doubtful look.
    “I bet you could.” What did they give merit badges out for ? She was certain he’d excelled in totally different areas of achievement and socialization than had the rest of his troop. And despite his aversion to suits and ties, she could imagine him in the little green shorts uniform, politely helping an old lady across the street and shamelessly flirting with her all the way.
    Tabitha bet he had nice legs too, to go with the rest of that hard body she’d been secretly ogling since he’d arrived.
    “What about you?”
    “Me?” She raised a brow.
    “I can see you in a little Brownie’s uniform selling cookies door to door.”

    The double entendre didn’t escape her—she knew he’d meant it not to—his smile slow and seductive as he sat back in his seat waiting for her response.
    “I was entirely too busy with more important activities to indulge in that particular whimsy.” Too busy surviving, she thought.
    Tabitha had never had to sell cookies door to door, but she’d had to barter, borrow and steal for a meal more times than she liked to count.
    She especially remembered a period when her mother had neglected to come home for several days after Tabitha’s father had left them. Everyday for a week she had come home to an empty house, and an even emptier refrigerator before going out to the neighbors to play “Whimpy from Popeye” with promises that her mother would gladly pay them Tuesday for a meal today.
    No, hawking hundreds of boxes of overpriced cookies for top-selling honors and a cheesy overrated prize had not been high on her list of eight-year-old priorities.
    “So, back to least favorite colors and materials?”
    “I’m not too fond of orange and pink, unless they’re on a woman. As