“You think I’m bad?” Abigail asked.

“Yes.”

A tiny smirk of satisfaction curled her kissable lips. The slender rim of fur at her wrists taunted him and made him remember all the naughty things he’d imagined doing with her over the years.

Yes, he’d had a few dreams.

Ridge averted his gaze. Though he felt sure the sex had been great, it was only a hopeful memory. He was a fool to believe it had been anything more than a stupid night of drunken folly. Damn that vodka!

He tugged out the papers from his coat and waved them before her.

“Okay, okay!” She paced before the counter, twirling a finger around the end of a luscious twist of black hair. “You want something from me? First you have to give something to me.”

He had not expected this visit to be easy.

“What’s your price, witch?”