“I thought you didn’t meet with potential clients?”
A thrill of awareness shot through Gabriel Stone at the whispered words in the dark. Shadows danced across the adobe walls of the Spanish church ruins. “I don’t.”
“Then why are you here?”
Why am I here?
The silhouette moved and the rustle of fabric tantalized him, luring him to round the corner to confront the woman. But he held back. “Why did you choose me?” he asked.
“Because you’re the best.” The sultry voice whispered with slightest Spanish lilt. Again tremors ricocheted through his body. Jasmine and almond oil wafted on the breeze and hinted at the exotic nature of the woman close enough to touch but who remained off limits.
How many times had he heard that phrase?
He hung his head and shifted as the scrape of his boots against the gritty dirt floor echoed in the abandoned adobe church. Moonlight spilled through the open section of roof from above and pooled in the center of the room. A short burst of wind whistled through the ruins and lent eeriness to the atmosphere.
© Suzie Grant