Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I simmer at the way he’s turned the tables, but I take it on the chin and play by his rules for now. “Then I’ll be outside the ballpark waiting for you when your game is over,” I say.
“Good. You do that,” he says.
I take him back to the ballpark, and then start the countdown to tomorrow.
17
HIGHLY MOTIVATED
Rafe
All day, I count the hours—as I run at dawn with Christine, as I work the global expansion with Theresa, as I make business calls before lunch.
I steal glances at the time, wishing evening would come sooner.
Theresa and I hunker down in my office over a working lunch, reviewing potential acquisitions that would expand Rafe Rodman’s worldwide reach.
“We need to be strategic,” I tell her. “There’s so much opportunity right now. So many growing companies.”
“Which means we can’t get into bed too quickly.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Another reason why she’s my right-hand woman.
“I know. You’ve taught me well,” she says with a proud grin.
For the next few hours, we talk pros and cons, and as we’re winding down, I ask, “How’s your father doing?”
“He’s better. On the mend, and being a stubborn turkey again,” she says with a bemused shake of her head.
I smile, pleased at the news. “Why don’t you take off early and spend time with him?”
“I would love that. Thank you,” she says.
I spend the rest of the afternoon with blinders on, but still my mind wanders to what I want to do with Gunnar and for Gunnar. I’ve only spent a short time with the man and already I’m ravenous for more. That’s the allure—and that’s the trouble too.
I work through the evening, tuning into his baseball game on the radio. I tense when his team’s behind and relax as the Dragons pull ahead in the seventh and stay ahead.
I bet winning puts Gunnar in a great mood.
I call my driver, and soon I’m in the limo heading to the Dragons’ home ground. The fans stream out of the ballpark, so we find a side street and cut the engine while I text Gunnar and tell him where to find me. Twenty minutes later, the handsome athlete walks toward my limo.
Strong shoulders, chiseled jaw, cocky grin—my pulse races. The things I want to do to him.
I step out of the car to lean against it and savor the view. At the same time, his eyes travel up and down my body, taking in my tailored shirt and trousers, my loosened tie, my cuffs rolled up.
He whistles when he reaches me. “Well, aren’t you sex in a suit.”
I laugh. “I don’t have on a suit.”
“Bet you did earlier though. Bet you took your jacket off for me.”
I fight a grin to no avail. “I left it at the office.”
“I knew it.” He licks his lips. “You gonna kiss me, or is it up to me to make out with you in public?”
I close the distance between us, grab his head, and press a possessive kiss to his lips. He murmurs as I nibble on the corner of his mouth then brush my jaw across his cheek.
“Will that suffice?” I ask when I let go.
“For now,” he says, a little gravelly.
I swat his ass. “Get in the limo. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” he says playfully, then slides in.
Here we are, just like last night.
“And are you hungry?” I ask.
“Famished,” he says.
I ask the driver to take us to The West House, a private club at the edge of the Presidio. “The club has poker and billiards, a full bar, and a great menu. And you can also get a fantastic steak, if you like.”
“I like steak. Maybe a game of pool. But have you sent your reports? Do you a memo to deliver? A spreadsheet that must be sent now,” he says, finishing in a stern English accent.
Laughing, I toy with the ends of his hair. “Amazing what a man can do with a little motivation. I was quite efficient today.”
He murmurs appreciatively. “Because you wanted to see me.”
“Yes.” That’s all I give him. One word.
“And I believe you wanted to chat about all sorts of things?” he asks in a seductive purr, running his hand along my thigh.
This man knows how to play me. “I have a lot to discuss.”
With a wicked grin, he says, “Feed me, and then you can ask me anything you want.”
18
THE PRIVATE CLUB
Rafe
The West House caters to new money and to privacy. There’s a no-phone policy, so after we check our mobiles with the concierge, we walk down the white hallway, past a game room with poker and pool tables, and into the dining room.
The club is so very California, with its blue walls and sleek silver bar, black and white furniture made from vegan leather, and upcycled materials for the tables.
This is the private club for Silicon Valley types. For tech money and hedge fund money. For engineer entrepreneurs. For the San Francisco vibe rather than the East Coast one.