Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
My phone had been in my purse all night, and when I pulled it out at home to put it on the charger, I saw I had a few missed texts. I felt that familiar flutter low in my belly seeing they were from Donovan—or rather, Ford.
Donovan: I had drinks with a woman tonight.
The flutter suddenly died. As screwed up as it was, I felt a pang of jealousy. Ridiculous, I know. A guy I couldn’t go out with, wouldn’t go out with, and had no claim to. Yet it didn’t make what I felt any less real.
Donovan: I ended it early. Would have rather have had cocktails with you, even from the parking lot.
God, why did he have to be so sweet? And so damn young. I probably shouldn’t have responded, but…
Valentina: If it makes you feel any better, a man asked me out tonight, and I sort of blew him off, too.
The little dots jumped around as he started to type back immediately.
Donovan: Is it wrong that just hearing a man asked you out makes me jealous?
I smiled sadly. I feel your pain, buddy. Before I could respond again, another text came in.
Donovan: Why didn’t you say yes?
Valentina: Mark and I are good friends. I just don’t see him like that.
The texting stopped for a few minutes, and I grew anxious waiting for his response.
Donovan: Have coffee with me.
Coffee. It sounded so innocent.
Valentina: I can’t.
Donovan: Why not? It’s just coffee. There’s nothing devious about two adults sharing a cup of coffee. I wasn’t asking to make it for you in my apartment the morning after while you’re wearing my T-shirt.
An image flashed through my head of me standing in front of a coffee pot wearing just Ford’s T-shirt and a satisfied, goofy smile. My hair was a wild mess from the night before, and he wore nothing but a pair of gray, low-hanging sweats. He walked up behind me and slinked his arms around my waist, pulling me flush as he brushed my hair to the side and kissed my neck.
“Morning,” he growled against my skin.
I reached up and touched the area he’d kissed. Blinking a few times, I realized I’d been daydreaming. Oh my. Vivid. Think maybe I should take a quick shower and put down the phone. I plugged my cell into the charger on my nightstand and forced myself to walk away.
The shower proved to be more difficult. Without any mental stimulation except the neutral color of the tumbled stone tile, my mind tended to wander. And tonight my hand wanted to join in while my brain put on a show. My effort to clear my mind of all things Ford did just the opposite, and I had to cut the shower short.
After my bedtime ritual of moisturizing and primping, I got into bed and turned off the light. I had every intention of ignoring my phone and going to sleep, I really did, but a half hour later it was eating at me, and I realized I’d never get any rest without knowing if there were more texts waiting for me from Ford.
So I unhappily pulled my phone from the charger on my nightstand. Sure enough, a few new texts had arrived while I was attempting to clear him from my mind.
Donovan: Did I lose you?
Donovan: If you’re going to ignore me, there’s no reason to hold back. Nothing to lose….
Ten minutes later…
Donovan: Okay, so I lied. I want to have coffee with you because I can’t stop picturing you wearing my T-shirt the morning after.
Donovan: You look really sexy in it, by the way.
Donovan: One cup of coffee.
Donovan: I’ll be on my best behavior.
Donovan: I swear.
That had been his last text, but the minute I finished catching up on them, a new one arrived.
Donovan: You’re reading my texts now. I can see they just changed to Read. So I know you’re not sleeping…
I smiled sadly and sighed.
Valentina: No, I’m not sleeping. Although, I should be. You know why? Because I’ll be up a five a.m. tomorrow morning, no matter what time I go to bed. I bet you can sleep until noon, like most young people.
Donovan: Actually, I’m at the gym by 5:30 and the office by 6:45 every morning. Nice try. How about coffee at 6 a.m., if you’re up anyway?
I chuckled to myself.
Valentina: You’re persistent. I’ll give you that. But I’m sorry, I just can’t, Ford.
I’d started to type: I just can’t—no matter how much I want to. But I erased it. I needed to put an end to this craziness, for both of our sakes.
Instead of responding, I went to my contacts and edited Donovan to Ford—a gentle reminder that Donovan wasn’t a man I could ever be attracted to; he was simply Ford, the boy next door.
Chapter 6
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