Desired (Miranda's Chronicles Book 1) Read Free Page B

teeth. His larger hand swallowed mine and a jolt vibrated my entire system.
    “ Tack Tackett,” he said, with emphasis on “Tack,” those dark chocolate eyes locked on my face. “My friends call me Tack.”
    His voice was deep, soft and raspy with only a hint of a Texas twang. The husky sound flowed through me like warm honey and again I thought of sex. I even felt a dampness in my panties. Good Grief! This was crazy.
    Our gazes held and that sexual energy emanating from him grabbed me again. My thoughts scattered into a jumble that made my head swim for a few seconds. I mentally shook off the light-headedness. He doesn’t like his first name. That was my first coherent thought after I recovered . Now I was disgusted with myself for reacting as if I were a teenybopper meeting Elvis.
    “Be sure to show him the model on seventeen,” Drake was saying. “Then go on up to the larger units on nineteen and twenty, okay?”
    Being one of Drake’s smaller developments, Skyline had only twenty floors. The smaller, more affordable units were below the sixteenth floor, “affordable” being a relative term. The “affordable” price in Skyline started at around two million. The units above the sixteenth floor, on the other hand, were all priced well past that. Just how far past was determined by the square footage and if a buyer requested “extras” beyond the ones that were already there. Obviously, Mr. Tack Tackett was no bargain shopper.
    “Of course,” I answered.
    Drake had said “small” pad, but none of the units he suggested were small. I knew he had a big ego and I suspected he just wanted to show off his latest project to his friend. All I had to do was not let myself become distracted by a pretty face. After all, Mr. Tackett was just another guy, right? Better looking than most, but still, just another guy. Though he punched my hot buttons, he was probably no better than any man I knew or had known and he might be even worse.
    Exactly , my inner voice agreed. Good-looking men are never all they’re cracked up to be.
    “Take notes, Tack. We’ll talk later.” Drake then turned to me. “Tack’s a good friend of mine, Miranda, so take good care of him.”
    Ooh, yeah. With pleasure , that pesky inner voice chimed in .
    Leaving Mr. Tackett in my care, Drake walked toward the concierge’s office. I plucked a flier off the stack and passed it to my charge with a smile. “Ready?”
    “When you are.”
    “Then follow me.” I pulled my tablet from my bag and started for the elevators.
    Tack Tackett’s presence filled the small elevator car. Acute awareness of his size and masculinity had my heart tapping out a steady pitty-pat. When had I ever been in close quarters with a sexier guy?
    Keep your cool and stay focused , my inner voice cautioned me.
    Mr. Tackett’s scent teased my nose. Clean, like fresh air and sun-dried laundry. Too subtle for cologne. Whatever it was, I loved it. I hadn’t noticed it when he was standing with Drake and Gabe, both of whom wore exotic colognes.
    The pricier units above the sixteenth floor were accessed only by a homeowner’s key in a key slot in the control panel inside the elevators. I fumbled with the keys on the key ring, finally identified the master and plugged it in.
    As the elevator car stirred into motion, I stepped back and stood against the sidewall. Mr. Tackett leaned against the back wall, his arms spread, his hands braced on the handrails. My gaze landed on his short well-kept nails and a heavy college ring. Texas A&M. An Aggie. I should have known. He fit the stereotype.
    While his clothing had caught my attention in the beginning, one of his assets that had me tongue-tied and my hands sweating was his lean, flat-bellied body. From the corner of my eye, I homed in on his torso. Not an ounce of flab anywhere.
    I knew the hours and discipline physical fitness required. I jogged or fast-walked several days a week, did yoga and cross fit when I could and sometimes