Free Slow Heat by Lorie O'Clare Page A

open her mouth, to taste him.
    “I’ll get the job done.”
    He didn’t release her. He didn’t move but continued staring down at her. Maggie finally stepped backward and was amazed how easily he let her go. He was right about the fog of lust. Shoving her items back in her purse, she clutched it against her side and turned for the door.
    “Okay,” she muttered, and hurried out of his house.
    Micah picked up her car keys she’d left on his coffee table and opened his front door. He watched her almost run to her car. His dick was hard watching her perfectly shaped ass sway as she walked away from him. He’d wanted to grab her hair, feel how soft it was in his fingers, and tug on it until she completely submitted to him.
    Maggie hadn’t denied his comment about their lust being off the charts. That had made his blood boil through his veins. She desperately wanted control, probably because she had it in her everyday life. That life was gone to her, at least for the time being. He was in charge now, of her, and her future.
    She wasn’t going anywhere. Micah waited until she reached her car then turned into his house. He endured the pain of walking into his kitchen with a stiff dick. Then, grabbing two business cards from the small stack he kept by his napkins, Micah wrote his number on the back of one of them.
    When he was at his front door again, Maggie was standing at her driver’s-side door. He couldn’t read her expression but waited until she looked up, over the roof of her car, and stared at him. Micah held up her keys. She exhaled noticeably and dropped her head, letting her hair shroud her face.
    When he was eighteen, Micah’s father had told him there were few men out there who could read another at a fair distance. He said Micah had that gift. Micah wasn’t sure if he’d call it a gift, but he detected Maggie’s embarrassment as he crossed his yard. She raised her head when he neared the back of her Civic Hybrid.
    “Thank you,” she said, holding her head high as she reached for her keys. Maggie didn’t move from her driver’s-side door.
    Micah pushed the button on her key holder and unlocked the car. It was new, possibly less than a year old. Maggie dressed well, too. He wasn’t sure how much a bookkeeper for a nightclub would normally make, but he intended to find out. He also planned on learning where Maggie lived. If she had a nice house he would definitely say she was living beyond her means, unless somehow those means had been padded. But looks were often deceiving. He wouldn’t judge her yet.
    Micah stepped into her space, forcing her to take a step backward, and opened her door. “This is my number.” He handed her both business cards and still held her keys. “Write your number on the other card for me, unless you have a business card.”
    “I don’t.” She pulled a pen from her purse and used the top of her car to write her number on the back of her card. “Do you charge by the hour, by the day?”
    “Neither.” He took the card, studied her penmanship for a moment, then slipped the card into his pants pocket. “I’ll be in touch soon after I look into a few things.”
    Maggie shoved her hair behind her shoulder and faced him. “Okay, so I’ve hired you, right? Is this our verbal agreement?”
    “Yes.” He wasn’t sure why he added, “I’m not much into paperwork.”
    Something shifted in her expression at his comment. It didn’t surprise him much that a bookkeeper, legal or illegal, would prefer things in order and documented. Micah had lived a lifetime of not documenting anything. “I’ll do some checking around and be in touch with you in a day or so.”
    “If I don’t answer, leave voicemail. I don’t know how long I’ll be with all of my family.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Do you come from a big family?”
    “No.” He didn’t really come from a family at all. His father and uncle had trained him more than raised him.
    “Oh,” she said,