Richard

Even hunched over her laptop, wrapped in the drab kind of clothes so many women wear to hide their curves, Georgina is difficult to look away from.

Her hair is an unusual shade; black from some angles, but when struck just right by light, a deep, violet sort of red. She has plain features, a nice mouth, a pleasing profile. But her eyes they're striking. A soft brown that seems to glow in the light and deepen to black in the dark.

You want her because you can't have her, says the voice in the back of my head. It sounds mysteriously like Lewis. No, worse — you want her because she doesn't want you.

I don't like the thought. I'm not sure a woman has ever turned me down. Even though Georgina is here strictly on business, somehow, the idea that she won't sleep with me does make me want her more. A conquest. A challenge. Like work, or college, or the markets.

Something that can be broken like a wild horse.

"You can take that off, you know," I say, gesturing to her rumpled suit jacket. "You