But she didn’t realize whom she was facing off with.
He tried to decide what color he’d call her skin. From that glimpse of thigh to the line of her jaw, the tone was that of diluted honey—warm but not quite tan. The sun would give her more warmth if she spent much time outdoors. But he knew she didn’t. The finger that had tapped her bag was too smooth, unblemished, to belong to someone who did anything outside besides, perhaps, run.
Another look at her legs and, yes, she was a runner.
She smiled, and his attention shifted to her lips.
Lush but not bee-stung. Not thin. Lips that framed a decidedly smart mouth.
For now, that was amusing. And now was all they’d have. He glanced at the meeting timer. Forty-three minutes.
“If you’re bored, you could try conversation. It’s a universally accepted means of passing the time.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you always so...”
“Quick-witted?” she offered.
“Snarky.”
She shrugged. “Semantics.”
He quieted, waiting to see what she would add in the hanging silence.
She stared at him, also waiting on...something. What? Conversation? Yet the longer they sat there, the more clear it became that she might just be able to wait him out.
Seconds passed, crossing the one-minute mark and dragging on before she couldn’t stand the building tension and broke the silence.
“Okay,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table, her breasts pressed togetherby her biceps so that her cleavage nearly doubled. “I’ll get the ball rolling. What’s your name?”
He rose.
She followed suit.
He held out a hand.
She stared at it for a moment and then offered her own hand in return.
A jolt of awareness passed through him not unlike a mild electrical shock. “I’m Isaac Miller.”
“Rachel Stephens.”
“And what do you do for a living, Ms. Stephens?”
“Please, call me Rachel.”
He didn’t blink, didn’t look away. “Isaac.”
“I’m a lawyer... Isaac.”
He sank back into his seat and folded his hands across his abdomen. “You’re a rare woman, Rachel.”
“And how did you come to that determination in under five minutes?” There was a smile hidden in the question as she sat down.
“You’re an attorney.”
“Yes.”
“Are you successful?”