Free Man about the House (Wicked Wraiths) by Mina Carter Page A

as her friend Tori’s words came back to haunt her. Two jobs and study to boot? Burnout wasn’t an optional extra; it came fitted as standard. A table to her left came free so Janelle darted in behind the departing patrons and snagged the empties in quick movements.
    Listen, let me help. I’ve got this scroll …
    Looking about her for more glasses, Janelle couldn’t help the smile spreading over her lips. Magic was Tori’s answer for everything. Mind you, if Janelle were married to a sexy-as-hell sorcerer like Jacob, she’d be a big fan of magic as well. The guy was gorgeous and the way Tori had met him? Something out of a fairytale.
    Love for Janelle was not on the agenda. She had too much on her plate as it was, without having to deal with a relationship as well. Sex… yeah, sex would be nice. But then again, her battery-operated friends could be ridden hard and put away wet. They didn’t pout and complain when she ignored them and spent half the night pouring over books or cramming for endless exams.
    Her gaze caught on someone approaching her. Janelle’s breath hitched in her throat. She bit back her whimper as a god of a man strode toward her. Standing between the tables, she felt like a rabbit trapped in the glare of a car’s headlights.
    Oh God, what I’d give to do some practical study on him !
    Tall and dark, he was Janelle’s deepest, darkest desires made flesh, every single one of them. His broad shoulders should have made him look stocky but didn’t. His height should have made him awkward, but instead he moved with the fluid grace of a hunter. A hunter whose sights were firmly set on… her?
    She blinked. He was looking at her. Like, directly at her. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see some leggy blonde stick insect behind her.
    The table was empty.
    Too surprised to do anything else, Janelle swung back around and just looked at him. He nodded as if to say, yes, it was her he was looking at. He is looking at me . She was having trouble wrapping her head around the thought. Men like that did not look at women like her.
    Ever.
    Whilst she was struggling with the concept, he’d closed the distance between them. It was only his sidestep at the last moment to avoid a loved-up couple that drew her attention to his clothing.
    Sexy, clingy clothes. Women’s clothes. Complete with high heels. Oh my God, I am such a pervert. I’m drooling over a guy dressed as a woman .
    “Hi,” he offered, with a charming smile that made Janelle’s heart do a hop, skip and a jump behind her breastbone. “Would you like a hand with those?”
    “Huh? What?” Mesmerised by the bright blue eyes looking down into hers, Janelle had completely forgotten the glasses she was carrying. Ugh, make that the glasses she was cuddling. Great, just perfect, Janelle. He’ll think you have a thing for bloody empties next .
    “The glasses?” he said, nodding toward her loaded arms. “Awful lot of glasses for a little lady like you. Can I help?”
    “Ohh… no. It’s okay, but thanks.” A flush heating her cheeks, Janelle readjusted the empties. “I work here. It’s my job.”
    Duh, as if “I work here” didn’t clue him in on that fact . She floundered for something to say next. Usually men like this, hell, any men, didn’t talk to her. It was as if the club uniform of black t-shirt and pants rendered her totally invisible to the opposite sex.
    “So, is the…” She indicated his clothing. “…a lifestyle choice?”
    As soon as the words were out of her mouth Janelle winced. Way to go, just call the man a transvestite . Her mind was already conjuring up scenarios where she was pulled into the club manager’s office and sacked for insulting a guest when he chuckled. The rich sound rolled around her, whispering across her skin like a warm caress. She shivered. She’d always had a thing for men’s voices and he had a gorgeous voice. Who are you kidding? Forget the voice. He’s just plain gorgeous !
    “Err,