Blake paced the corridor, waiting to go into his interview, and thought of the seven rules mentioned in Seven’s book. Where the hell was rule number eight: f**k the brains out of the guy you’re playing with? He had not expected that. He’d been playing the field for years; apparently there was a first time for everything. He’d underestimated Seven in more ways than one. That wasn’t like him, either. Facts were facts: either he was losing his touch, or she had a talent for mind control.
She filled his head and his senses with the memory of her soft skin and sweet scent. He’d lose his six-pack if he indulged every time he’d wanted dessert since meeting her. Forcing the temptation of her from his mind, he pulled in a steadying breath.
Again, he listed the rules from her book in his head. He’
