Hunting for Honey - THE SPECTER SERIES [book one]

Chapter TWO: The Son

Honey Sinclaire

Jumping your feet as your head snaps up in the direction of the infuriated growl, you come face to face with the most utterly gorgeous man you've ever laid eyes on..

No.. He's not just gorgeous..
He is so much more than that..
He's divine.. Godlike.. Inhuman in his rugged beauty..

Tall and powerfully muscular, the god towers over you, confident and commanding.. you6can't help but notice the way his perfectly cut and tailored navy suit enhances every taught line and ripped contour of his incredibly masculine form..
His silky, chocolate brown hair is cropped short and neatly trimmed, brushed back to one side to give him a debonair, yet youthful appeal..

Your entire being tenses, flushed with an intense heat as your eyes fall to his full pink lips, which are caught in a ridiculously sexy sneer, before tilting your chin upward to see that the god has bright emerald gems for eyes, like two crystal clear oasis lagoons, watching you curiously and sucking you in to drown in their depths..

"I--uh..I'm.." You try to form words, any words, but you're so shocked by his striking presence that all you manage to produce is a pathetic impish squeak.. "I'm s-so s-sorry.."

"I should think so, Alex Carrington has been dead all of five minutes and here you are already thieving from his office.." He nods stiffly towards the notebook in your hands, his dark brow creased in sincere suspicion..

"Me?! Thieving?!..I would never, how dare yo--" He cuts you off by lifting one hand, motioning for you to stop talking before snatching the book from you with the other..
"HEY!" You scowl at him, making a useless attempt to grab for your book but he is too fast and too tall, pulling it away to hold it high out of your reach where he begins flicking though the pages..

He frowns, as his eyes track back and forth over the scribblings.. "This is--" Lifting his chin he narrows his green-eyed gaze on you, arching a perfectly shaped brow in disappointment.. "It's nothing."

You hold out an impatient upturned palm, indicating politely for him to return your book immediately.. Still, he doesn't..

"It might be nothing to you!" You huff as you shake you outstretched hand a little, trying now to silently insist he give it back without being rude..

It goes against your very nature to be rude..

But this guy, he tests all the patience the good-lord gave you when he simply returns to skimming the pages, completely ignoring your unspoken request..

"What is this?..It kind of sounds like Alex wrote this?" For a moment you think you see his steely expression soften, but that gentle empathy is gone before you can be sure it was ever there..

"Well, he didn't write it.. I did.. And It's all I have left of him now..Please, give it back, Mr--?" You try imploring him with your pleading eyes now..

He steps in close enough for you to drink in the scent of fresh coffee and ripened cherries.. To drink it.. Drown in it..

Holy heaven above, he smells so good..
Like a decadent dessert, too rich for you to take..

The God extends his hand with your notebook as he continues to watch you intently, clearly trying to figure you out.. You immediately snatch up the book and clutch it close to your chest, not giving him another chance to rob you of your control..

"Carrington." He replies sharply, never taking his glowing green gaze from yours..

"Uh-- Excuse me?!" Your head cocks to one side in confusion..

He breaks the intense eyes contact to glance around the office, his tone flat and disinterested as he speaks, it is as though he is completely closed off.. Made of Ice, distant and aloof.. Bored of you and the conversation you share..

"Archer Carrington..Alex was my father..So this is my office and that--" He juts his chiseled, clean shaven chin toward the notebook in your hands, "--was his book, was it not?"

"No, it's mine!" You shake your head and take a deep breath, preparing to make an attempt to explain yourself without babbling or breaking into tears.. "I used this book to write down all of Alex's finest lines, so I would never forget them.."
When he doesn't respond to reply, you press on trying to ignore the galloping pulse he has set off in your chest and the sound of thundering hooves pounding in your ears.. "I'm--I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr Carrington.. Your father was very dear to me.. Well, he was to everybody here at the office.." Cracking under the intensity of his unwavering gaze, you drop your focus to the floor..

"Is that right?" His question comes out a little kinder than the last, though still far from friendly.."While I appreciate your condolences, do you mind explaining exactly why you are weeping in my office, instead of your own?"

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, "Oh, yes.. How rude of me..My name is Honey Sinclaire.. I was your fathers executive assistant for the last twelve years... I'm sorry for disrupting you in here Mr Carrington, but I wasn't expecting to see you, well--at all.. I didn't even know Alex had a son.." You extend your hand in cordial offering and he takes it briefly with a surprisingly gentle squeeze.. His touch is considerate, warm and confident, igniting sparks across your skin.

"Ah, Miss Sinclare, of course.. Forgive me, Alex spoke of you often.. I just hadn't pictured you to be quite so--" He pauses, stopping himself short of saying something.. What exactly, you're not sure..

"Quite so what, Mr Carrington?" Immediately you mentally kick yourself for your unintended flirtatious tone.. Though to be fair, it's hard to be helped when affronted by a true addonis.. A gorgeous god of a man..

"Southern." He answers simply.. The single word bluntly, not at all what you had been expecting him to say and you have a strange feeling he doesn't necessarily mean it in a good way...

For some reason that hurts, wspecially from such a perfect specimen of a stranger..

True, you're a southern girl born and raised, now you are living in the big city, a long way from where you came..
It's not like he would be the first person to underestimate you for your sweet drawling accent, country style and demure mannerisms.. "Oh, well thanks, I guess.. Now, if we're done with the introductions we are both going to be late for the service.. I'm sorry again for disturbing you, in your office, it won't happen again, Mr Carrington."

With a small, shy nod you scurry around him towards the exit, just as you cross through the doorway, you hear Archer grumble in a low warning tone, "We're definitely not done."