Jen grabbed Cam’s arm and blinked and blinked again at the man who’d walked into the front reception area of Crane, hardly daring to believe her eyes. No. The man didn’t walk. Swagger was closer, but that wasn’t right either. He had the loose, confident stride of an athlete and something about the easy roll of his hips suggested a potent sexuality. He stood around six two or three, she guessed, and his open shirt revealed a nicely bronzed chest and a hint of copper hair. He wore jeans and the kind of plaid shirt worn by road crews and cowboys everywhere. His hair was sun-kissed brown, his skin weather-beaten, and his smile both boyish and knowing. “I have to have him,” she said when her heart remembered to beat. “You just had me,” Cam reminded her in an aggrieved tone. She smiled at him, thinking the early bout of sex before work this morning seemed to have boosted her creativity. She was full of great ideas. “Don’t worry. I don’t want him for sex. I don’t have the energy.”
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