Ulterior Motives

An Unforeseen Proposal

I just never can seem to stop myself long enough to remember to go to bed. Ugh. to sleep or not to sleep.

Happy Reading.

Love

NJ Kuhr

XOXO

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A handsome Warlock at that but that was beside the point. He was wearing an expensive suit, something she expected to see on Wall Street; tailor made charcoal grey slacks, matching two button vest and tie with a bright white collared shirt. She imagined the jacket thrown over his arm would have finished off the set, thin collar to compliment a thin tie, but she found that she was attracted to the more relaxed look without it.

Warlocks didn't need to blend in as much as others so they tended to dress a little flashier. That and they were attention whores and blatant narcissist with absolutely no sense of shame. At least all the ones Reagan had ever dealt with were. She always thought of them like a weird uncle that had never been married or had kids, one that was likable enough but there was always a creepy factor and tended to be embarrassing in public. She predicted, after living decades and centuries longer than everyone, Warlocks became eccentric just to elevate the boredom. Immortality tended to get tedious after a while. Spontaneous behavior and ostentatious outfits where probably the only thing that kept many of them from going completely insane as opposed to only partially.

This guy didn't give her that impression at all. His hair was dark brown cut into a modern style, short on the sides with a bit more length on top, just long enough to have a slight curl to the ends. He seemed like a no fuss kind of guy who didn't bother with any products.

He must have paid good money to have his hair cut perfectly so he didn't have to fuss with it throughout the day. He had thick dark eyebrows scrunched in agitation above even darker eyes. Prominent cheek bones, dimples exposed because his full red lips were pressed into an angry line that accented a distinctive jaw bone. He was tall, looming over Reagan even in her heels. He was physically imposing as well. She could tell he was built, one of those Calvin Klein model kind of built, with sexy shoulders and pants that hung at the waist in that way that made mouths water.

Reagan's eyes flashed in surprise for a moment but that was her only give away. "How can I help you?" She was, after all, a professional.

"I'm here to see Reagan Blake?" He asked. He hadn't moved, hands pressed deep into his pockets and was standing a little too close to the door not to be considered rude. All of his weight pressed into his heels, as if any minute he was going to bolt for the elevator.

"That would be me." She stated. He seemed a little taken back but covered it well. It was the typical reaction when her clients weren't told in advance she was a woman. "Would you like to come in? We can sit down and discuss what brought you to my office." Reagan stepped back to allow him in, gesturing to the set of chairs across from her desk, just out of reach from the protective symbols hidden under the rug.

The Warlock stepped around her and into the office as she closed the door. She was weary but that was normal in her line of work so she wasn't on high alert yet. Her clients didn't come to her in a relaxed state of mind so this was nothing new. By the time they came to her it had gotten bad.

She walked around the desk and sat down in her chair. Her feet barely touching the floor and the back rest was all the way up. She preferred being eye level when she discussed matters, it made her appear taller. It also provided a sense of mutual trust and respect when seated evenly across from each other. However, this only works when the client also sits down, which he didn't.