Page 10 of No Shelf Control
My internal diatribe dies as soon as I rip the door open to see Jasmine standing on my front porch, looking more beautiful than she did yesterday. The sunlight catches in her blonde hair, turning the strands a fiery gold. Her eyes are the same stunning blue, though the usually bright hue is muted this morning.
She'd dressed like she's prepared for war, though she doesn't need armor for this battle. Her little baby doll dress and chunky heels are enough to bring me to my fucking knees. How is a man supposed to get a goddamn thing done when a woman like her is walking around out there, looking this edible?
"Good morning," she says. "Can we talk?"
"About the fact that you're on my doorstep at eight in the morning? Absolutely." I cross my arms, leaning up against the doorframe. "I have questions, like how the hell do you know where I live, princess?"
"I followed you home yesterday."
If anyone else said that sentence to me, I'd already be on the phone, calling the police. But for some reason, the fact that she's the one who just said it has my dick hard enough to fuck her clear through the stucco.
I'm being stalked by the world's most relentless book club recruiter, and I'm too fucking horny to be mad about it.
Jesus H. Christ. This is ridiculous.
"You know," I say slowly, "I've got an inbox full of emails from people trying to convince me to send one book or another to this book club or that. They're all bullshit scams, and they're allrelentless as fuck. They're inventive as hell, too. But you might just beat them all."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"Oh, but it is." She grins at me. "I bet you block and delete without even responding to them. And yet, here you are, having a full-on conversation with me."
"Do we need to revisit the whole stalking concept again?" I ask, one brow arched.
"You know I'm an avid romance reader, right?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Stalking in romance is how you show affection."
My gaze travels down her body, a grin tugging at my lips. "Is that what this is?"
"Definitely not." Her nose scrunches, but she can't hide the way her cheeks turn pink, like maybe she doesn't dislike me nearly as much as she wants me to think she does. "I just meant that stalking isn't always a bad thing in my world."
I laugh abruptly. "You are so full of shit. Stalking is bad in every world. There are tribes who have never had contact with modern civilization who probably know that, Jasmine."
"Yeah, well, my world is different. You should know that since you write romance. Besides, I'm harmless. I just want to have a conversation with you," she says.
She's the furthest thing from harmless I've ever seen. Gorgeous? Absolutely. Perfect? Hell yes. Harmless? Not a fucking chance.
"I already told you no."
"I realize that, but that was before I figured out what your problem is."
"You mean the emotional constipation?" I ask, my tone dry.
She grimaces as if she might actually regret saying that to me. "No, I think that's a symptom of your problem."
Well, this should be good.
"What's my problem, then?"
"You said you weren't interested in being meat on the market, right?"
"Yes," I say slowly, not sure what kind of conclusion she's jumped to based on that comment. God only knows with her. Her mind is a magical, terrifying place. It really is.
"What happened?" she asks.
