Free Under His Spell (The Miami Tycoon) by Kate Lambert

group yelled and whistled in assent. He didn’t know it, but as she looked she was deciding that the amber in his eyes was much, much nicer than the amber in her glass. Erica knew quite well, to her dismay, which she’d prefer to look at for the rest of the night. She tore her eyes from his, directed her gaze down at the consolation prize, and drank the last of the spicy golden liquid.
    Maxwell, as always when he looked at Erica, felt a buzzing start in him. Today she had her melancholy expression on, the one that made her look like a tragic film starlet. The paper-whiteness of her skin, the rich darkness of her hair... she was something of an anomaly in Miami, land of orange palms. Anthony must have been thinking the same thing, because a few moments later, he asked her, “Erica, not to be all why-are-you-so-pale, but, uh, why are you so pale?”
    Erica smiled wryly. “Accident of fate. Scandinavian-mutt father and half-Chinese, half-Russian mother. They both work at Biscayne, that’s how they met. Apparently, they did not consider that their offspring would have the tanning potential of a snowman.”
    “No kidding! I didn’t know you were such a mutt. Do you speak Chinese?”
    In perfect, Taiwanese-accented Mandarin, Erica called him a whoremonger in possession of a baby penis.
    Anthony looked suspicious. “Hey, what did you just say to me?”
    “Oh, I just said how lovely your hair was looking today.” Anthony preened in response.
    Jess addressed the group. “All right everyone, since you haven’t yet complimented my delicious creations, I’ll do it myself: Thanks Jess, you make a kick-ass drink! You’re the greatest!” The assembled officemates subsequently fell all over themselves telling Jess how wonderful the drinks were and how much they appreciated her doing all the work.
    “Pshht, you ingrates. You’re all buying me a mojito when we get to the bar. Now get your stuff and let’s go!”
    Maxwell, who had not yet partaken of Jess’s mixology experiments, volunteered to drive everyone in his Range Rover. Erica called shotgun the second they were within sight of the parking lot.
    “Ugh, I feel so undignified in the backseat,” complained Jill, seated next to Ryan. Anthony had insisted on driving his own car, saying he’d had only one drink an hour before. He drove an Audi two-seater, and Jess had quickly volunteered to go with him.
    The ride was quick and went by even quicker for Erica, who was again breathing in Maxwell’s heady scent, tinged with a hint of leather from the expensive-looking interior of the SUV. She barely registered Jill and Ryan’s incessant bickering in the seat behind her.
    When they reached the sidewalk outside of Cielito Lindo, Ryan and Jill got out of the car. Erica, not wanting leave, gathered her purse slowly. She started as Maxwell touched her hand and asked, “Will you stay a moment?”
    She looked up at him and let her purse drop back down to the floor. “Of course.” She tried to control the tremor in her voice, begging her body not to betray her quickened pulse and unwarranted excitement to him.
    “I’ve been meaning to get you alone all week. There’s something I want to ask you, Erica.” The way he said her name...Erica could do nothing but nod, encouraging him to continue.
    Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his phone buzzed in his chest. He looked crestfallen, but reached in his jacket pocket to answer it.
    “Hello?” Soon crestfallen turned to anxious surprise. The voice on the other line sounded high and feminine, but Erica could not discern what she was saying.
    “Are you sure?” The woman replied quickly, in heightened tones.
    “All right. I’ll be there soon.” Maxwell’s reply was terse, but there was genuine concern behind it.
    “I’m so sorry. I’ve got to go, now. Tell the others I’m sorry I couldn’t make it? I’ll talk to you soon, Erica. Goodbye.” The last word sounded like a request for Erica to get out of the car, so she