Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

He watches me flounder for a moment, edging further into the room and crossing his arms.

“Kinda klutzy, aren’t we?”

A lopsided smile emerges, sending shockwaves through my veins.

Good lord, how old am I?

“What do you want, Blake?” I say, firmer this time.

The last thing I need is for him to know he’s getting to me.

“So, I was thinking about what you were saying before,” he says, taking another step into the room.

“You’ll need to be more specific,” I mutter, trying to center myself. I feel heady—and off. Like there’s not enough oxygen in the room and I’m desperately trying to breathe.

“You said people are stupid and rarely worth your time. It got me thinking about my own situation and I still think we’d make a good team.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I think you’re wrong. People are generally flawed—yes. Plenty of them have issues, as you saw the other day. But I’ve also witnessed some pretty amazing people in my time. For whatever reason, I feel like you’re missing out if you’re not witnessing that side of people, too,” he says, taking a last stride forward and leaning on the back of the chair opposite me.

“I seriously doubt you’ve had enough experience with people, if this is your take,” I say, leaning back.

“Come on, let me show you. Let’s do coffee—and maybe, if you want, we can work together on this case and I’ll help you see the world a little differently,” he says, grinning.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” I say, irritation welling up.

Who does this guy think he is?

Seriously, I’ve been around a while. I highly doubt his thirty some odd years—maybe forty—have gifted him more people experience than all of mine.

“So, is that a yes?” Blake says, his eyes flashing mischievously.

“Screw you,” I sputter, suddenly unable to contain myself. After all he’s done this past week, I can’t believe I’d actually considered calling him.

“Could be fun, but I don’t generally make a habit of it on the first date,” he smirks.

I roll my eyes.

Wonderful, we have a comedian in our midst. Swell.

“Let me make this abundantly clear to you,” I begin, folding my hands across the table, “I will, in no way, shape, or form ever—EVER go on a date with you. There will be no screwing for that matter, as I’m not even sure you’d pull your head outta your ass long enough to entertain the thought of someone else’s pleasure…”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve been told by many women I’m very attentive,” he cuts me off, an eyebrow quirking smugly.

An absurd shiver squiggles down my spine and I instantly get unwanted flashes of intimate moments he’s had with women—of course, they’re all from my imagination as it springs into action—instead of any sort of reading from him.

“Gah—” I cry, throwing my hands to the sides of my head to try to ignore my mind as it plays tricks. “That’s—it’s not the point. The point is, it will never, ever happen with us. So the sooner you can get it through your thick skull, the better off we’ll both be.”

Blake takes a step around the table toward me, his dark eyes penetrating mine in the most intimate way. I can’t explain it—it’s like he strips me down to my bare essence. Not the naked me, but the soul level me. The corner creases of his eyes deepen as he takes me in, and his lips tilt ever so slightly upward.

Reaching his right hand out, he cups the side of my face without a word. Warmth radiates from the palm of his hand, making me shiver despite myself. My body suddenly craves to lean into it.

“Give me time,” he finally whispers, winking.

I glare at him, knowing full well my traitorous insides want desperately to give into it.

Dammit.

Leaning away, I pull my face from his hand.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but where I’m from, touching someone without consent can be considered assault,” I warn.

My skin blazes, tingling from his touch.

Blake chuckles, his dark eyebrows rising in a high arc.

“Oh, is that so? Well, I’ll keep that under advisement,” he says, tipping his head. “It was good to see you again, Diana. Think about it.”

Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks out the door.

My eyes stray, mesmerized by the way he walks.

“Mmmm mmmm,” Renaldo mutters, appearing in the doorway. “Honey, I don’t know what the dealio is, but damn, that man has a fine stride.”

“Go away, Ren,” I say, my eyes flicking to his from beneath my eyebrows.

I don’t know what kind of magic this guy has, but I’m not about to be his bitch. I’ve been around the block long enough to know when to stay the hell away. Everything about Blake screams RUN—even if half of me is in direct disagreement.

“I’m just saying… How long’s it been since you…” he wiggles his eyebrows, “…ya know?”

I stare at him unblinking.

Four years, eight months, and 12 days. But who’s counting?

“It wouldn’t hurt ya to use him to get a little somethin’ somethin’ and ignore the rest—if that’s what floats your boat. I mean, your nether region is gonna atrophy, if you’re not careful. What I wouldn’t give to have your kinda freedom,” he says, his eyes going distant, and a giddy smile stretching across his lips.

“Oh please,” I say, “you and Brody are perfect for each other and you know it. Even if you were able, you’d still be chasing him around like a lost pup.”

Renaldo snaps his fingers in the air, “Oh no you don’t, woman. Take it back. If anything, the lost puppy would be him.”

I chuckle and walk to the doorway.

“Sure, if you say so. Let me know when my next client is here,” I mutter, ushering Ren out and slowly closing the door to my reading room so I can seal myself off.

Walking to the window overlooking the garden, I stare out into the sea of color. If it were