Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I choke back a laugh. I’m tempted to march over there and kiss her senseless as thanks for covering for me. Or maybe not as thanks. Maybe I just want to kiss her.
Instead, I wait patiently for another fifteen minutes, then stand up when I hear Maggie tell the bartender she’ll be back in thirty.
Tucking my book in my pocket, I hop out of the booth and head for the door.
I breathe in the late evening air. A few moments later, Maggie walks out of the bar. She pauses near the streetlight by the curb, the pale yellow light causing her hair to appear redder and brighter. Like a halo of fire kindled by the evening breeze.
“Hey.” I greet her with a faint smile.
She stares me down with obvious wariness. And there it is again, a gleam of annoyance. What the hell is up with that?
“Hi.” She holds on to the thick strap of her oversized purse. “I have a half hour for my dinner break. I usually grab a hot dog.”
“Let’s go,” I say easily.
She nods and then pushes forward, her high heels clacking against the pavement.
I fall into step with her and cock my head. “You look angry.”
She shoots me a sideways glance. “What makes you think that?”
I shrug. “Are you?”
“A little.”
“Because I showed up at your work?”
Her hands drop to her hips as she stops walking. “Yes. Thanks to you, I’ve spent the past three hours as your bodyguard, trying to keep every vagina in the place away from you.”
I have to grin. “I never asked you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to. You turned white as mayo when I asked who you were. It was obvious you didn’t want to be bothered.” She pauses. “Besides, I owe you. Celebrity or not, I still barged into your room last night.”
With a frown, she resumes walking. I quicken my pace to keep up with her, oddly pleased that my celebrity status is an obvious thorn in her side.
It sure as hell is a thorn in mine.
“So what do you want?”
She gets right to the point, which I suspect she does a lot. Just another item to add to my already growing list of reasons why I like her.
“I told you, I came to return something.”
We stop in front of a hot dog vendor, who Maggie greets by name. She orders a dog with all the fixings, pays the man, and turns back to me.
“So that’s it? You came by to return my underwear?”
A loud cough sounds. I glance over to find the hot dog vendor raising his bushy eyebrows at us.
Maggie waves a dismissive hand. “Just a figure of speech, Joe. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
She says good-bye and gestures for me to follow her. Moments later we’re leaning against a brick wall a few yards away, and I can’t help but be impressed as I watch Maggie eat.
It’s been a while since I’ve met a woman who dined in anything less than a five-star restaurant. If I even dared to suggest to a date we indulge in some street meat I’d probably get slapped. But Maggie looks completely comfortable as she scarfs down a hot dog and wipes ketchup from the corner of her delectable mouth.
She doesn’t seem to notice the people hurrying by or the sound of cars whizzing down Broadway. When a cop car speeds past, sirens blazing, she doesn’t even blink. She acts like having dinner in the middle of a busy street is no big deal.
“Is there a reason why you’re staring at me like that?” she asks politely.
“I like the way you eat.”
One reddish-brown eyebrow lifts. “Is that some weird pick-up line?”
A laugh slips out. “No, just an honest-to-God compliment. It’s been a while since I hung out with a woman who ate something other than a side salad.”
Maggie makes a face as she swallows the last bite of her hot dog. “If my meals consisted of side salads, I’d die of malnutrition.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin and then tosses it in a nearby trashcan. “Anyway. Listen up, Mr. Movie Star.”
I can’t help but grin. “I’m all ears.”
“What do you want from me? I already apologized for last night and you passed on my offer for a free drink, so why are you here?” Before I can answer, she narrows those emerald eyes. “You’re not going to sue me, are you?”
I’m taken aback. “What?”
“Sue me. For sexual harassment or something.”
“Of course I’m not going to sue you.”
“You better not.” She scowls at me. “It would never hold up in court, anyway.”
I stare at her, bewildered. Who is this woman? One minute she’s angry with me, the next she’s accusing me of launching a potential lawsuit. It’s exasperating, but in a cute way, and as I stand there gaping at her, I finally figure out what’s drawing me to her.