Baby Be Mine(Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book 1)(73)

Hunter was a bit taken aback when he turned to see a petite woman holding a bag near her face, huddled in the corner of the elevator like a scared mouse. And here he thought he was all alone when he entered. He supposed he was too depressed over losing his mysterious goddess that he didn’t give a thorough look at his surroundings. He couldn’t get a good look at her face, but man, was her body definitely his type. Kind of reminded him of the avocado.

Clarice cut her eyes a bit so she could take a sneak peek at Hunter when she was sure his attention was elsewhere. She lowered the bag a little more to get a better view.

He looks horrible, she thought, absolutely horrible. In fact, even worse off than when she’d first seen him at the café. That hair was even more messed up than before. And his clothes… What was he doing last night, all wrinkled up like that? Then a scenario of the Casanova’s activity of last night swam into her head.

He must have bedded a woman, and by the looks of things, she must have kicked him out. Otherwise, that Casanova would never appear in anything other than pressed and branded clothing. Serves him right.

At that very moment, as Hunter was about to push the eleventh floor button, he turned to face Clarice, who almost jumped in fright, automatically smacking her bag right in her face just so Hunter couldn’t see her, resulting in a loud thwacking sound.

The price of keeping one’s identity anonymous was very painful indeed. Dear heaven, that hurt like hell.

Damn you, Casanova. It’s all your fault.

“Hey,” Hunter asked somberly, eyeing the woman who was acting strangely. “Which floor?”

Crap, he wants me to answer him? In order to keep her identity safe, she decided to use her best impression of an old lady’s voice.

“Eleventh floor,” she said seductively.

Shit, that sounded like his mysterious goddess. Hunter’s eyes immediately jerked toward the woman who still held that bag blocking her face.

“Say that again?” Hunter asked, which came out more like a demand, piqued at the woman’s voice. Could it be her?

Heaven help her! Was she so affected by last night that her voice was still laced with that seductive passion? She had to use her hoarse voice if she wanted to fool Hunter into believing she was an old woman. Muster up that croaky voice, Clarice. Muster up that voice now.

“Eleventh,” she said seductively again.

Oh deary me, it came out wrong again.

By this stage, Hunter was convinced the woman who shared the same lift was actually hiding something from him, and he bet his life that he was not wrong.

Moving closer, he tried to sneak a peek at her face, but whichever direction he turned, she would counteract, as a result, hiding her identity from him.

Clarice could feel his gaze on her. Hunter was standing so close. If he saw her face, she was sure she’d die. Hunter would annoy her again. She didn’t need this. Not at all. How to get rid of him? she thought.

Obviously, standing with the bag in front of her face for the duration of the lift’s journey would not be successful because she could sense at any minute now, Hunter would advance, demanding to see her.

Then an idea struck her. She pretended to cough profusely, indirectly telling him to stay away or she might pass her virus onto him. Then she dug into her bag and donned the clinical mask that she usually kept in her bag for times like this. Extracting her pair of dark-shaded sunglasses, she donned those too. Her stage was set. So when Hunter’s hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her around to face him, the look on his face almost made her burst out laughing because it was just so hilarious.

Hunter almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Clarice all dressed up like she was infected with a deathly virus, complete with clinical mask and glasses.