Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
I rounded the desk and took a seat in the ergonomic chair that was specially designed to fit in with the room’s traditional opulence. My small keyboard sat on the leather top of the pedestal desk, and I stared at it and the blank screen on my computer for a second.
No doubt a million emails awaited me as soon as I switched it on.
So I took a breath and let it out before I reached over and woke up the monitor.
Not a minute later, there was a knock at the door, and Wakefield arrived with hot coffee and a breakfast pastry.
“Mr. Hunter is just finishing up. Would you like me to ask him to wait in the reception hall for a few moments?”
“No, just bring him in.” Although he was early and it wasn’t my fault, he’d been waiting long enough.
As per usual, nerves threatened to take over. This happened anytime I was meeting someone new. But I’d learned to pour on self-assurance like it was a role I was playing. Glancing down to make sure I was presentable, I frowned at the sight of my bare arms and cursed my mother for bringing them to my attention. I suddenly wished I was wearing anything but the silk blouse. Truthfully, I was probably too busty for silk. Mamma always said silk was for elegant figures. My breasts wouldn’t know how to be elegant if they were strapped down with a mile’s worth of boob tape.
Stop it.
I straightened my shoulders just as the knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
Wakefield entered. “Mr. North Hunter, Ms. Howard.”
“Thank you, Wakefield.” I stood as the Scottish actor entered the room.
Our eyes locked and I was barely aware of Wakefield leaving the office as goose bumps suddenly prickled across my arms. Penetrating, beautiful gray eyes stared intensely into mine and awareness shivered down my spine.
The entire room seemed to shrink in North Hunter’s presence. He was tall, perhaps six feet two. Dressed in a black fitted T-shirt and dark blue jeans, I noted the broad shoulders, the hard, sculpted biceps, the long, lean, athletic physique. Dark blond hair cropped fairly short.
Angled jaw, thin, serious lips, and a strong, straight but sharp nose. High cheekbones.
My feet felt stuck as he held my stare, his expression changing from surprised to curious to smoldering in an instant.
North Hunter was a rugged, beautiful man.
I’d met many beautiful men, but I’d only been attracted to a few. Usually, it took more than several seconds in their presence for that tingle between my thighs to let itself be known.
Then North smiled. A wicked, boyish smile that made my belly flip like I was a freaking teenager.
Fear scored through me and I stiffened, dismay chasing away the fear.
My tone sounded brittle even to my ears as I rounded the desk and reluctantly held out my hand. “Mr. Hunter, welcome to Ardnoch. You’re early.”
The last sounded accusatory.
His smile only deepened, causing his eyes to crinkle sexily at the corners. “That I am.” His gaze leisurely moved down my body in inappropriate perusal. My hand wavered. I knew from my research that North had been dating British pop star Cara Rochdale for two years. So when he finally deigned to drag his attention back to my face and there was no mistaking the heat in his eyes, I struggled not to hide my distaste. I wondered how many women he’d cheated on the English beauty with.
North took hold of my hand, his grip tight. “You look different in real life,” he mused in that lilting accent that was unfairly attractive.
He looked different too. Or rather, his magnetism was muted in film. I could practically sense his energy vibrating up my arm, and as he held my hand for too long, I felt a tightening in my breasts.
Sucking in a breath, I yanked my hand out of his.
I’d been fooled before by hot looks and charisma. Never again. Ignoring the comment that suggested he’d googled me (there were a few red carpet shots online of me with my family, but the last one had to have been taken at least four years ago), I moved back behind my desk. I’d put a key card for North’s room in my drawer last night.
“As you know, I’m Ms. Howard, and I run Ardnoch when Mr. Adair is otherwise occupied. However, we have a full staff who are at your disposal. There is information in your room regarding spa treatments, personal trainers, physical therapists, golf lessons, tennis lessons, yoga, Pilates, mindfulness, tour guides, and things to see in the area. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to press zero on the telephone in your room to be connected to our liaison service.” I grabbed the envelope with his key card and rounded the desk again to hand it to him. “Welcome to Ardnoch.”