Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
I lift Carson’s profile to find Clay’s beneath. I skip over the ten inches part because that’s now become an expectation. Imagine! He’s leaner than Carson, but still muscular, with long wavy blond hair that he’s drawn back into a bun. He has hazel eyes that twinkle and dimples which make him ooze mischief and so many tattoos they all merge into a giant block of color.
Russell is next, a veteran with short cropped dark hair and a strong jaw. His green eyes seem to hold a mix of determination and reflectiveness. I imagine his hands are huge and rough with calluses that would make my toes curl if they caressed the right places on my body.
Tom is also ex-military, but there’s something warm about him, a kindness to his face, and a close-cropped beard that gives him an air of maturity.
Jimmy seems younger. I check out his date of birth to find out that he’s only twenty-four. With sun-kissed skin and ice-blue eyes, the personal trainer exudes health and youth.
Jonas is also a personal trainer, and I suddenly notice a pattern in their jobs. Two men from each occupation. His smile is charismatic, and his crooked nose gives him a rougher, more experienced appearance.
The next two men, Oliver and Stefan, both hold senior positions in ad agencies I’m familiar with. With their white shirts and dark suits, they both seem sophisticated and suave. Oliver is the oldest of the men so far. At forty-one, he already has a dusting of silver in his dark hair, and a straight Romanesque nose that makes him appear serious. In contrast, Stefan has laughter lines etched at the corners of his green eyes, and refined features that perfectly match his charming smile.
Theron and Gabe are the last men and both work in construction. Theron is the taller of the two with a rugged face, dark hair and mesmerizing light eyes that make me feel like I could fall into them. Gabe has a warm smile that instantly puts me at ease and a hint of gentleness in eyes that are almost the same color as mine.
By the time I’ve finished reading all the profiles, my body temperature has increased enough that I use the last one to fan myself cool. My cheeks must be radiating like beacons. This is not a good sign at all.
“What’s wrong with you?” Grace asks as she passes my desk clutching a steaming mug. “You look like my mom in the middle of one of her hot flashes.”
“I don’t know,” I lie. “Maybe I’m getting sick.”
“Love sick?” she snickers, peering at my desk and I’m too slow to cover the photos on the profiles that are strewn messily in front of me. “I heard you’re out on a smoking hot assignment for seven days.”
I quickly gather the profiles and she quirks one perfectly plucked eyebrow as she folds her lips between her teeth, biting her smile.
“Who has time for love in this place?” I say, ignoring the mention of where I’m going to be for a week. “There’s barely any point in me paying rent right now, I spend so little time at home.”
“I’m with you there. Maybe we should start one of those arrangements where we apartment-share with someone who works nights. They made a movie with that plot…what was it called?”
“Yeah…maybe not. There’s no way I’d want to share a bed with a stranger.”
“Sounds like most of your Saturday nights.” Rianna breezes past, clutching a bundle of papers. “Awesome assignment. I’m jealous.”
“I’m socializing for all of us,” Grace grins lasciviously. “But I have a feeling that you’re going to be making up for your hermit tendencies next week.”
“I’m interviewing,” I say. “How exciting can it get?”
Grace raises both her brows this time and looks pertinently at the bundle of profiles I’m doing my best to hide. “From the look of those men, it could get to incendiary levels of excitement if you let it.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Kirsty would kill me.”
“What happens at the beach house, stays at the beach house,” Grace says, revealing she knows a whole lot more about my assignment than I assumed.
“If you know so much, how come you’re not the one going?”
“The beefcakes are all yours. I have a wedding. Can’t get out of it!”
“I’m not sure that’s a very PC way of referring to men.”
“Well, I’m not very PC.” She leans in, checking her mug to make sure she’s not about to slosh boiling liquid all over me. “If you don't make the most of this assignment and come back with at least a phone number and the promise of a date, I’m going to make you buy me lunch for the rest of the year.”
“I guess I’m buying lunch then.”
Grace sways off in the direction of her desk, shaking her head like I’m the world's biggest disappointment.