When Anthony Draper entered her office, Saffron had the vague sense that they'd met before. He looked so familiar and yet… Well, she couldn't have seen the man somewhere else, could she? At least not looking like what she saw before her.
He was dressed to the nines in a custom-tailored suit, his black hair in a close-cropped cut. Longish, thin sideburns were the only hint that he wasn't as completely buttoned-down as others in his profession.
"Miss Monsoon?" he asked, raising a black eyebrow at her expression.
Saff forced herself to stop staring at his face. Coming back to her senses, she flashed him her best forced smile.
"Mister Draper," she replied, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. Two words in and she already knew she was going to hate him.
But she nevertheless put out her hand to shake his. And when they touched, Saff instinctively drew back from him — a move which left Draper frowning. Even she wasn't sure why she'd pulled away.
They stood, each with arms folded over their chests, defensively studying one another now. Draper's soft brown eyes roamed the length of Saffron's body. She swallowed hard, overly conscious of how she must look under his gaze. For at least the 1457th time in her life, she suddenly wished she were about six inches taller. Then again, he was only average height himself so why should she care that he was looking her over as if he were scrutinizing a trinket in a curiosity shop?
Draper's rather full, surprisingly sensuous lips curled in a grin of his own. His five o'clock shadow was beginning to show itself; Saff liked the look of it, to her own chagrin.
Where was that coming from?
"Please sit down," Saffron said in her most businesslike tone, indicating a chair. When Draper moved towards it, she made her way around to her own seat behind her desk. He stood quietly, waiting politely for her to sit before settling into his own chair.
For what seemed like yet another agonizing couple of minutes, Draper and Saff kept their eyes on one another. He noted that her eye color shifted with the prevailing light; sometimes they were a deep, sea green and at other times, a hazel brown. It occurred to him that he wouldn't mind staring into those eyes every day.
Precious, indeed, he caught himself thinking. And difficult to acquire.
"Well, then," Saff snipped, wanting his gaze to be anywhere except on her, "should we get started?"