SCRATCH (Corporate Hitman Vol. 2)
Book Genre: Romantic Suspense
Page Numbers: 178
In part two of the Corporate Hitman Trilogy, the story centers around SCRATCH.
SCRATCH knew exactly what he was in for when he sold his soul.
Pierce Eaglemohr’s offer of freedom was nothing more than a pair of invisible handcuffs. Now SCRATCH is at the center of an FBI investigation and time is running out. The wall of lies is beginning to crumble.
It’s the worst possible time for him to meet a woman and it’s too bad that Monica Tidwell is the one woman with the power to destroy him.
History may try to repeat itself, but this time he’s not alone. The Hitmen have his back.
~ Excerpt ~
Scratch enjoyed the feeling, and allowed himself the luxury of daydreaming. Of being able to just breath. No thinking, planning, plotting, or scheming. His mind was filled with visions of distant lands. Beautiful ocean shores filled with equally beautiful woman. He almost forgot where he was until a rather loud disturbance brought his dreams crashing down around him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Monica spat the words at him, seething as she stormed into his office. She stalked up to his desk and tossed two file folders at him. Subsequently sending sheets of papers flying everywhere. Some landed on the desk, others landed on the floor or in his lap.
Scratch was pissed. After the shock of her surprise attack wore off, that is. He looked up at her incredulously, and then down at the label on the file closest to him. One was the folder of bogus information that he’d gotten from Glitch. Well that was quick. So she figured out that he was pulling her chain, but that didn’t give her the right to ambush him this way. He didn’t respond to her, at first, but tried to calm down a bit. He didn’t appreciate being yelled at, and the aggression of her throwing the files at him didn’t sit well either.
Slowly he let his eyes peruse the length of her body, starting with her hair that was styled curly, down to her royal blue skirt suit with a sharp cut to her waist that enhanced her natural curviness. Then, further still, to the black stiletto pumps with criss cross straps around her ankles. Damn, she was sexy. His gaze traveled back up to the shiny buttons on her blazer. The style was such that a shirt was optional, and as his eyes focused in on the smooth skin of her barely contained cleavage, he was certain there wasn’t one underneath. Here he was trying to calm down, but he was becoming excited in other ways. That was fine. He’d rather be turned on than in a rage, and he wasn’t some horny teenager who couldn’t control his erections.
“Are you such a pompous ass that you think you can screw around with me?”
She wasn’t yelling particularly loud, but her voice carried. Still ignoring her questions, Scratch gathered up the few loose sheets of paper on his lap and tossed them on his desk with the rest before getting up. Glaring at Monica as he went, he walked to the door and closed it. His corner office was surrounded by other empty offices, so he wasn’t really worried about the noise, but he didn’t want to risk someone deciding to be nosey.
With his back to her, he contemplated his response. He had not expected her so soon, and hadn’t heard back from Jack yet. Still, he needed to butter her up. Staying silent wasn’t just to calm down, but to give her a chance to either calm down or say something for him to work with. Turning around, he found her glowering at him with her arms folded across her chest, pushing her breasts up to expose a little more skin for him to look at.
Monica resorted to silence. Her anger was visible in the swift rise and fall of her chest with each breath, and the flaring of her nostrils. But even as she fumed, her eyes roamed his body the way his had over hers. Scratch was now leaning up against the door with his arms folded to match hers. The hard set of his caribbean blue eyes made her want to slap him, but even though they were turned up in a smirk, the unexpected fullness of his lips made her want to kiss him. His earthy masculine scent filled the room around her, making the task of focusing on her anger difficult.
“I take it you’re not happy with the information I provided you.” Scratch’s deep voice finally breaking the silence between them. The tension was still thick, and pulsing between them.
“You know,” she started as she turned to his desk and began to gather a few of the reports that managed to stay inside the folders. “I can’t decide. Did you think you could fool me with this nonsense you gave me? Or did you think you were being funny? I don’t know you well enough to insult your level of intelligence, even though you did that to me.”
“Is it possible? For you to be truthful, I mean. Don’t want there to be any confusion in what I want from you,” she scathed.
It was small and kind of obvious, but her choice of words had given him an opening to distract her.
“And what is it that you want? From me, that is?” He arched a devilish eyebrow suggestively.
“The truth would be nice.”
“That’s easy enough. I find you impossibly attractive, and when you came storming into my office, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss you to shut you up, or bend you over my desk and spank you.”
“You can’t be serious,” she said dryly. Her words did not match the blush that was burning her cheeks.
“Oh, I’m very serious.”
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Olivia Linden, a native New Yorker, was raised between Queens and San Antonio, TX. Currently living in Florida with her tween aged son, she decided it was time to follow her dreams of becoming a full time author. Her creative itch began when her elementary school principal posted one of her stories in the halls of her school. She was only seven at the time, but old enough to understand how integral writing would be to her future. From that moment on, reading and writing became her two greatest passions.It is her philosophy that laughter is essential to making it through even the toughest situations.Find your passion with Olivia Linden.