Miranda knows it was fate that brought Devon into her fortunetelling tent, fulfilling her grandmother’s prophecy. But the sexy detective doesn’t believe in fate – he’s just looking for a hiding place while he figures out his next move. Can Miranda convince him that love is really in the cards?
Miniature Rose (78 pages)
"Luck," he finally repeated. "Can you tell me if I'm going to ... get lucky?" Yes, please.
"What kind of luck do you need?" She'd dropped the accent, and her voice was husky.
"Luck in the business enterprise I'm working on." He'd never get lucky in love.
"What kind of business?"
The fortuneteller began to shuffle the cards again. "Then we'll use The Fortuneteller's Lay."
Devon almost jumped out of his seat. "What?"
A smile tilted a corner of her mouth. "The Fortuneteller's Lay. That's the name of the card spread."
I'd like to lay you. Now. Here.
Oh God, had he said that aloud? "I'm in a bit of a rush. Will this take long?"
"I've had longer." Her lips were curved in a sensuous, honestly amused smile that suggested she wasn't thinking about the reading. The heat in her eyes intensified as he met them with his own gaze. He shifted again, his dick straining to escape its prison.
Oh, yeah? You haven't seen it. Yet. Although she probably wasn't referring to the length of his cock. And it was probably his imagination, thinking she had sex on her mind, just because it was on his.
Her gaze heated. No, it wasn't his imagination. It was strange--and amazingly erotic--to feel her looking at him as though she was imagining him naked. Color rose in her cheeks, and her rose-pink tongue played over lush lips. It had been months, maybe years, maybe never, since he'd played with such openly sensual flirtation.
"Do you do ... private readings?" How far would she take the flirtation?
No customer reviews for the moment.