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Crunching Her Numbers
-- EXCERPT: Kelly couldn’t afford to waste more time. She booked a scooter from her app, changed into sneakers, and entered the elevator—just when Ilan ran squeezing in. “I’ll reschedule my appointment,” he said. “Your boss needed to take care of something.” They stood close in the small elevator. Kelly breathed in his cologne, which smelled woody and spicy without being overbearing. It suited him. He looked down at her sneakers and smiled slightly. Now that she wasn’t in heels, they were the same height. “Let’s have coffee together, Kelly.” It wasn’t a question. “I have some time now.” He oozed confidence. He acted cocky, and his masculinity reminded Kelly that she hadn’t had a decent cock in quite a while. Kelly looked into the serene brown-green eyes. He emitted quiet power without any conscious effort, and she fought his effect on her. “How did you know my name?” He shrugged. “Have coffee with me”—she was treated to another charming smile— “or maybe something stronger. I’ll tell you everything.” Kelly looked away and kept quiet. He unnerved her. They reached the lobby. She walked faster and so he picked up his pace. They were already out in the street, Kelly reaching for her scooter, when he grabbed her elbow lightly. Kelly halted, turning, and Ilan let go of her arm. They locked stares, his cool eyes searching hers, their noses nearly touching. If she leaned a little forward, she could bite the juicy lower lip of his half-open mouth. She wondered what he would do if she did. His slight aroma of masculine sweat smelled of rosewood, and Kelly felt a desire to nuzzle against the dark chest hairs that were showing through the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. His face was somewhat flushed, so maybe he liked her closeness too. He reached into the front pocket of his jeans, his arm almost touching her breast, and Kelly looked down and noticed a bulge, which she wanted to touch very badly. God, she needed to get herself a good fuck. Soon. Ilan extracted a business card and handed it to her. She took it, careful not to brush his hand. It read “Ilan Ohayon, Private Investigator” in Hebrew and English. The card didn’t include a street address or a website address, just a mobile phone number. “Please,” he said, somewhat hoarsely. Yep, he wasn’t indifferent to her. He cleared his throat. “Call me. It’s important.” “Do you have a different card in the other pocket?” she asked. “You introduced yourself to my boss as a potential client.” Ilan broke into a dazzling smile, one that showed white teeth and attractive wrinkles in his eyes. “Clever girl,” he said, extracting a second business card. Ilan Ohayon, CEO, SMA Business Solutions. This card specified a website, a landline number, a different mobile, and a street address. “I’ll think about it.” She pocketed both cards before putting on her helmet, unlocking the scooter, and riding off. When she looked back once, Ilan hadn’t moved. His hands were deep in his pockets and he was watching her with an inscrutable expression. 
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