“Naomi. Hi.” He stood up and came around the desk to meet her. “How are you?”
“Fine, Mr. Kingston.”
He paused. Mr. Kingston? “Please call me King, Naomi.” God, I want her to scream that while I take her, hard and deep. “Maybe you want some coffee?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Kingston.”
He really looked at her now, tried to read her body language. Tense, closed, brittle. Her one hand was in her pocket, and he just knew it was clenched hard in there.
Is she scared of me?
The thought shook him, and he rushed to set her at ease. “Sit down, honey.”
She stiffened. “Please don’t call me that.”
He blinked. “Please don’t – what?”
“Please don’t call me ‘honey’. Or ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ or anything else in that vein.”
“I – I’m sorry.” King was totally wrong-footed. No woman had ever flatly prote
