Greed (Original Cover)

God knew the city needed heroes. Crime was at an all-time high and climbing. Lilo couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for that. Her family had a lot to answer for and she’d been trying to make up for it by being one of the good guys.

Lilo blew and popped gum while she glanced around the break room, searching for the coffee pod basket. She found it; there, shoved behind the coffee machine. It’s a miracle! One pod left. 

She could almost taste blueberry flavored coffee sliding down her throat. Her hands trembled from low blood sugar as she searched the dishwasher for an empty mug. Success! She pivoted to return to the pod basket and slammed face-first into hard cashmere. Her nose squished and her bubble popped. She dropped her mug and… and a thick string of purple gum hung from her mouth to the soft-knit wall in front of her. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lilo garbled, desperately trying to keep the remaining gum in her mouth. She picked at the edges of the flattened gum on the man’s sweater. Stuck. Gummy. Going everywhere. Oh no! The purple blob kept stretching. It stuck to her fingers. Stuck to him. Strung from her mouth. Strung from his sweater to her hand. Awareness prickled over her forehead and she knew he scowled at her. Forcing her eyes open, and refusing to buckle under the pounding of her heart, she slowly tilted her head up… and up… and her heart stopped. Her jaw dropped. The last of the gum fell from her mouth and dangled heavily on the cashmere, bouncing on a perfectly flat masculine stomach. 

The man in front of her was so handsome, he could have been out of the latest GQ magazine. Her gaze ran over him from top to bottom. Trim, brown hair parted and styled. Full black lashes blinked behind black-framed spectacles. Perfect five-o’clock shadow that accentuated a strong jaw. Wide lickable lips. Sexy, strong neck. Her eyes traveled lower. White shirt. Silk tie. Cashmere sweater. Purple gum. Navy blazer tailor cut to fit his extraordinary musculature. Yep, he worked out. Gray slacks. Long legs…

He held a metal mug in one hand and her pod in the other.

Golly gosh, you’re magnificent. Where on earth did they find this man? Obviously, the gym. Silly question, Lilo.

Wait a minute—her pod! She blinked rapidly. He had her pod. The last one. She snapped out of her lust-filled daze. 

“What?” he asked.

Even his voice was magnificent. It melted her insides with a smooth, buttery lilt that had her licking her lips. 

“What, what?” she replied, realizing she hadn’t in fact pulled herself out of her daze after all.

“You said ‘Golly gosh, you’re magnificent’.”

She’d said that out loud? 

“Um.” She laughed. “Don’t mind me.” Then shut her mouth, cheeks flaming. “I have a tendency to say the first thing on my mind. My mother says I’m too generous with my words, but… I guess that’s why I’m a journalist. Plus I like reporting the truth. Facts, you know. Not fiction. Not like what some so called reporters here like to call spin.” Jeez, Lilo. Shut up. 

“Fact.” He raised a brow.

“Yes, like the fact I saw that pod first, so technically it should be mine.”

“I didn’t see your name on it.”

“Well, that’s because I hadn’t… you know what? Never mind. It’s yours. I owe you.” She winced and tried picking at the gum on his chest again. This was not going well. “Er. Sorry about the gum. If you take off your sweater, I can freeze it and then the gum should crack right off.”

To prove she knew what she was talking about, she began to outline the process she’d seen on a Martha Stewart episode once, but the more she spoke, the more he seemed to pale and all she could see was the purple sticky mess on his front shuddering with his stilted breath. She had the sense that gum never got stuck to his shirt. He never had a hair out of place, and if anyone dared to disrupt his fastidious life plans, they’d rue the day. 

“I’ll just—” She picked some more and made an awkward face as the gum came off in big, long sticky streaks. “A little more.” 

She used two hands. Gosh, he was solid. Built like a brick house. And behind the blueberry gum, she could smell a delectable hint of a deep, rich forest that wanted to climb inside her and purr like a kitten. That sudden masculine perfume had her splaying her hand on him for balance. Now the gum was on her palm and she couldn’t get it off. She’d made it worse, in fact.

But he wasn’t paying that attention. Sweat dappled his brow, and he tugged at his tie. “Why is it so hot in here?”

“Hot.” Was the only stupid word that came out of her mouth while she stared at her hand on his chest.

He covered her hand, most likely to remove it, but a jolt of heat speared through her at their contact and they both flinched. He pulled away and stared at his palm. Big hands. Good God, he had big hands.

When he spoke again, his voice was rough. “You don’t need to worry about cleaning it.”

“Yes, I do. It’s my fault.”

“Statistically speaking, there’s a high probability the gum has already ruined the sweater, so it’s fine. Please stop.”

“Do you know that statistically eighty-five percent of statistics are made up?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you mocking me?”

Heat flared up her neck. She decided to focus on the damage the gum had caused. “How about I buy you a new one?”

He glanced at his chest, wincing. “You’re still touching me.”