war.”
Chanti, not little Fierce. She couldn’t even breathe until he was safely well away from her person. Unfortunately, his masculine, clean, woodsy scent of lingered, clouding her thought process for minutes after he retreated. Ever since he’d learned the meaning of her name, a gift from missionary parents in India, he had called her nothing but Fierce, or little Fierce given her lack of height. She’d tried nicking his name in return, or more accurately his ethnicity, calling him everything from Eva’s bastard (Eva Braun, something only he had gotten) to simply gigolo—none of which had the impact of the stark truth of her name. It did literally mean Fierce. It galled her to admit it, but her chest puffed out a little with pride every time he said it...
Wait…lose the war? What the hell did he mean by that? What
She Intrigues Me...
God, Chanti kept him in a perpetual state of arousal, and she didn’t have a clue how badly he wanted her. For reasons he;d never been able to pinpoint, theirs had always been a contentious relationship. All he wanted to do was take the diminutive little woman in his arms and show her just how much he adored her. The longer he knew her, the more he wanted to take her home and make her his for all time.
It was just that she appeared to hate him. He’d tried flirting when he had first came to work at Open Arms, the non-profit that helped women of all ages in need. As a former Wall Street baron, he had great ins on where the real money was, so he chose to use that info to raise money for an organization truly worthy. He’d made all the money he wanted to early on, invested wisely, and saved like a miser. He decided to retire at thirty-five to really do something worthwhile with his life. From the moment he stepped into the office his very first day he had gotten nothing but ice from the woman he wanted nothing more than to get to know on a very personal level.
Chanti was every bit as fierce as her name decreed. Not that she looked even the least bit intimidating. She claimed to be five-three, but Egan wouldn’t put her above five-one. Despite her lack of height, those curves she sported were 100% woman. Always dressed in an easy yet classic style, her clothing hugged and accentuated to perfection, making it impossible not to notice just how delectable she really was under all that sass. But what really, really turned him on was the lightening quick wit and her refusal to back down from a challenge. He was convinced she could probably run a small country without breaking a sweat or losing her temper. With him however, her eyes flashed, her lips curled, and God help him all he wanted to do was take her right then and there while the world watched him stake an undeniable claim.
Pride was often a bitch, and he’d readily admit he had his fair slice of an ego to be a little bent out of shape by her outright dismissal. After being scoffed at one too many times, Egan started to respond to her vinegar with sarcasm. It wasn’t exactly the way he wanted their courtship to go—and no matter what she may have thought, they were having a courtship—but he’d take what he could get.
“When are you going to stop pussy-footing around and take your woman?” Egan started, but then smiled at Ms. Jenkins, the woman who’d started the charity and ran it like a large extended family. “That woman has had your nose wide open for over a year. When are you going to take matters into your own hands?”
As fond as he was of Ms. Jenkins, he sometimes thought the older lady had a too Pollyanna-ish outlook on life. Always believing the good shall prevail over the bad, the righteous really would inherit the earth. She’d been pulling for him since she first recognized his growing fondness for Chanti. Apparently Ms. Jenkins felt Chanti just needed a little
Chanti, not little Fierce. She couldn’t even breathe until he was safely well away from her person. Unfortunately, his masculine, clean, woodsy scent of lingered, clouding her thought process for minutes after he retreated. Ever since he’d learned the meaning of her name, a gift from missionary parents in India, he had called her nothing but Fierce, or little Fierce given her lack of height. She’d tried nicking his name in return, or more accurately his ethnicity, calling him everything from Eva’s bastard (Eva Braun, something only he had gotten) to simply gigolo—none of which had the impact of the stark truth of her name. It did literally mean Fierce. It galled her to admit it, but her chest puffed out a little with pride every time he said it...
Wait…lose the war? What the hell did he mean by that? What
She Intrigues Me...
God, Chanti kept him in a perpetual state of arousal, and she didn’t have a clue how badly he wanted her. For reasons he;d never been able to pinpoint, theirs had always been a contentious relationship. All he wanted to do was take the diminutive little woman in his arms and show her just how much he adored her. The longer he knew her, the more he wanted to take her home and make her his for all time.
It was just that she appeared to hate him. He’d tried flirting when he had first came to work at Open Arms, the non-profit that helped women of all ages in need. As a former Wall Street baron, he had great ins on where the real money was, so he chose to use that info to raise money for an organization truly worthy. He’d made all the money he wanted to early on, invested wisely, and saved like a miser. He decided to retire at thirty-five to really do something worthwhile with his life. From the moment he stepped into the office his very first day he had gotten nothing but ice from the woman he wanted nothing more than to get to know on a very personal level.
Chanti was every bit as fierce as her name decreed. Not that she looked even the least bit intimidating. She claimed to be five-three, but Egan wouldn’t put her above five-one. Despite her lack of height, those curves she sported were 100% woman. Always dressed in an easy yet classic style, her clothing hugged and accentuated to perfection, making it impossible not to notice just how delectable she really was under all that sass. But what really, really turned him on was the lightening quick wit and her refusal to back down from a challenge. He was convinced she could probably run a small country without breaking a sweat or losing her temper. With him however, her eyes flashed, her lips curled, and God help him all he wanted to do was take her right then and there while the world watched him stake an undeniable claim.
Pride was often a bitch, and he’d readily admit he had his fair slice of an ego to be a little bent out of shape by her outright dismissal. After being scoffed at one too many times, Egan started to respond to her vinegar with sarcasm. It wasn’t exactly the way he wanted their courtship to go—and no matter what she may have thought, they were having a courtship—but he’d take what he could get.
“When are you going to stop pussy-footing around and take your woman?” Egan started, but then smiled at Ms. Jenkins, the woman who’d started the charity and ran it like a large extended family. “That woman has had your nose wide open for over a year. When are you going to take matters into your own hands?”
As fond as he was of Ms. Jenkins, he sometimes thought the older lady had a too Pollyanna-ish outlook on life. Always believing the good shall prevail over the bad, the righteous really would inherit the earth. She’d been pulling for him since she first recognized his growing fondness for Chanti. Apparently Ms. Jenkins felt Chanti just needed a little
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