Chapter Five

“Naomi. Hi.” He stood up and came around the desk to meet her. “How are you?”

“Fine, Mr. Kingston.”

He paused. Mr. Kingston? “Please call me King, Naomi.” God, I want her to scream that while I take her, hard and deep. “Maybe you want some coffee?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Kingston.”

He really looked at her now, tried to read her body language. Tense, closed, brittle. Her one hand was in her pocket, and he just knew it was clenched hard in there.

Is she scared of me?

The thought shook him, and he rushed to set her at ease. “Sit down, honey.”

She stiffened. “Please don’t call me that.”

He blinked. “Please don’t – what?”

“Please don’t call me ‘honey’. Or ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ or anything else in that vein.”

“I – I’m sorry.” King was totally wrong-footed. No woman had ever flatly protested him calling them some meaningless term of endearment. He also never apologized for anything. “I do it with everybody.”

Sadly, she wasn’t having any of it. “Everybody with breasts, you mean.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess that’s right.”

“So, save it for the women you meet at the bar, OK?”

“Well, technically we met at a bar,” King joked, still trying to salvage the situation.

She stared back at him, unimpressed. Any hot thoughts of her lips wrapped around his cock disappeared completely now, as he realized that she was there on business – and it didn’t seem like very nice business.

OK.” He took a deep breath and went back behind his desk. “Let’s start this again, shall we? Please sit down, Naomi.”

She did, trying to stay calm. My God, he was even bigger than she remembered, and definitely sexier. He still hadn’t shaved, and she imagined how the rasp of stubble would feel against her breasts, between her thighs.

Now that she knew more about him, the danger vibe was stronger, more pronounced. Unfortunately, it totally worked for him, and just made him hotter; he was all dark hair and dark gray eyes. His calling her ‘honey’ had set her mind wandering to all kinds of inappropriate places: she imagined him whispering it in her ear as he thrust deep in her quivering body.

Focus. Focus.

“So. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I came to talk to you about your contribution to the Art With Heart program.” She noticed the sculptures and pottery scattered around his office, and recognized it as Callie’s work. “About your offer to sponsor it.”

“Oh, right.” King looked puzzled. “I thought we were all meeting at the Heart Center this afternoon? That we’d talk about specifics then?”

“Well, the thing is, I see no need for you to come this afternoon. I’m not able to accept your donation, I’m afraid.”

King was stunned. “Why not?”

“Because since we met yesterday, a few facts have come to my attention – things that I was unaware of at the time.”

“What facts?” he said.

“Some things to do with your business.”

“The garage?”

“No, Mr. Kingston. Your other business.”

He stared at her. “Ah.”

“Yes. Ah.” Naomi took a deep breath. “I can’t have my organization funded by money that comes from – those kinds of activities. I hope you can understand that.”

“What does it matter where the money comes from? Aren’t people more interested in what you do with it?”

She shrugged. “It’s a registered non-profit, so I have to make all my financial documents and tax returns public knowledge. I have to account for every cent received, every cent spent. Every move I make is open to scrutiny and frankly, they should be. Oversight is a great thing and I play ball. Part of that is accepting only clean money.”

His gray eyes flashed now. “So my money is dirty?”

“Mr. Kingston –”

“King.”

“Mr. Kingston. I have no opinion whatsoever about your businesses. I suppose motorcycle club members have to have their bikes fixed somewhere, right? And from what I understand about your other business, you and your people are hired to perform specialized services, and I can see the need for such services. I really can. But I can’t have my organization associated with drug cartels and bounty hunters. I just – I can’t.”

“And Jax? His money is just fine with you, even though he serves up alcohol to MC members and drug dealers?”

She forced herself to hold his stare. “Jax and I have talked about that at length. He’s already agreed to provide documentation from his accountants and lawyers indicating that any and all money that he gives will come from his lottery winnings. Not one dime from Dangerous Curves.”

Well, fuck me. The woman is serious about this, huh?