Free Wolf at the Door by MaryJanice Davidson Page A

it out here.” Snatch clam. Hold to mouth. Tilt head back. Slurp.
    “Yeah, but—”
    “Sorry to cut you off again, but I don’t want to get locked into only taking small business owners or only taking government work or only taking nonprofits.” She shook her empty clam at him. “That’s why it’s perfect for me.”
    “What about overseas?”
    “What about overseas?” She picked up another clam and sucked it down.
    “That’s why you need the Epicor.”
    “No.”
    “Yes.”
    “You do not have Epicor.”
    “I absolutely have Epicor, and the thing is a demigod as far as I’m concerned, okay?” Edward was on his second bowl of chowder, she was glad to see. His appetite was getting stronger the more they talked.
    So was hers. But not for food.
    She liked how he had obviously taken some care with his wardrobe. She liked how clean he smelled. She liked his insistence on defending his workplace tools of choice. She liked his excitement and his passion and his manners. She even liked that he would not budge on the topic of who would pay for lunch.
    But she had a way to make that up to him, maybe. She could insist on a second date. Or she could . . .
    “I don’t believe it.”
    He smirked. “Jealousy . . . tsk, tsk, Rachael.”
    “No, I’ll admit it, that’s impressive. It really does everything they say?”
    “It practically cooks me breakfast.”
    “Maybe you’ll show me sometime?”
    “Maybe I’ll show you whatever you want anytime.”
    “Ah, now that’s a pledge I will hold you to.”
    “Good! And my God.” He was staring at the litter of empty shells, the stack growing ever higher. But he was smiling, and even if he hadn’t been, she would know he was pleased. “You can really put it away.”
    “No worries; I’m still saving room for dessert. Baked Alaska! As long as we’re obliged to spend so much money this evening, I see no use in half measures.”
    “My kind of woman. Listen, you will lose your mind when you see how it handles Cloud solutions.”
    “Oh my God.”
    “Not to mention customers in, what, one hundred fifty countries?”
    Now it was her turn to stare. “That’s amazing. I’ve always wanted to stretch, but I run a one-woman op.”
    “And cheap, for what you get.”
    She seized his hand, quicker and faster than she meant to, and let go when he yelped. “Sorry. Tell me more. Talk to me about supply chain management.”
    So he did. And then she started to shake. She managed to force “When?” through her teeth.
    “Uh . . .” He was staring again, which she didn’t mind a bit. Lust. Interest. Lust. “I can show you on my laptop—”
    “When can we get out of here?”
    Lust. Lust. Confusion. Excitement. “You’re not talking about my laptop, are you?”
    The oyster shell she was holding suddenly broke in several pieces; in her excitement she’d squeezed too hard. “No. I’m talking about going to your place or mine and getting naked and spending the rest of the evening trying to hurt each other in various ways, with possible breaks for long showers, and maybe toast, after.” Something about discussing the latest software advancements in her field did it to her every time . . .
    “You. Are. My. Hero.” He looked around and screamed, “Waitress!”

Fifteen
     
    As it happened, neither of them wanted to waste time driving to his hotel room or her temporary apartment, which is how they ended up on the floor of room 217 in the Minneapolis Hilton, just upstairs from the restaurant.
    Rachael had been between boyfriends for nearly two years, and she suspected Edward had been deprived of sex as well. That sort of thing can’t be good for us, she mused as he tried to unbutton her shirt dress with trembling fingers.
    In this case, it was a good thing, a wonderful thing, because his black excitement merely kindled her own. Which is why they never made it to the bed, only four feet from where they were lying.
    He tugged and pulled and she tried to help while their