Chapter 9

MELANIE Iceman? Nathan James is hotter than the fiery pits of hell. I was too nervous to appreciate his fineness in the boardroom earlier, but he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy—at least as far as looks go. There’s a reason almost every woman in this restaurant has cast an admiring glance his way tonight. He’s tall, at least six-two at a guess. Broad too. His shoulders and biceps strain against the taut material of his shirt when he rests his arms on the table. His jawline looks like it was chiseled by the gods themselves—or rather, the goddesses like Aphrodite and Hera, who knew exactly what a fine-ass man should look like. He might be a cold-blooded shark in the courtroom, but sitting opposite me in this fancy restaurant while I try my best to find out what his buttons are and how to push each and every one, I swear his dark eyes are twinkling with barely suppressed mischief. The man has a deviant side, I can tell. And while he’s yet to crack a full smile, his lips do occasion