Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Enid waved her arms above her head. “Don’t tell him. I want to see Lo’s face when you-know-who walks through the door.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, dear girl. It might not happen at all,” he warned, shuffling toward the adjoining living room. “But if he does come, make sure I’m not drooling before you introduce us…that’s all I ask.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, moving to his side.
“I’m going to get comfortable,” he said. “Don’t mind me. It’s good exercise.”
“No, no. Let me help you.” Enid escorted Mr. G to the living area and hurried back, eyeing me excitedly as she paced the perimeter of the foyer.
“Am I supposed to guess?”
She chuckled gleefully. “You can try.”
“Okay, on a scale from Cher to that drag queen at the Abbey Mr. G always talks about, how does this one rate?”
“Cher. But bigger.”
I bugged my eyes out. “Bigger than Cher? No way. Mr. G loves her.”
“I know, I know, but he might be more well-known with a contemporary crowd.”
“He. Hmm. Brad Pitt?”
“Pierce Allen.” Enid spoke the name with comical reverence.
But I understood.
“Pierce Allen,” I repeated with equal reverence. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
Pierce Allen was the biggest box office star in the world.
No…in the galaxy.
OMG.
I wasn’t a fan of movies with multiple car chases and shootouts. However, you’d have to have your head buried in the sand to not know who he was. Besides, I was a connoisseur of hot men, and Pierce Allen was drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, dark, dreamy, and oozing charisma.
I’d heard he was bi, but he always had a beautiful woman on his arm. And each one was supposedly his new fiancée.
One of my clients had reported there was a hint of a scandal recently about Pierce and a waiter. It had gone quiet quickly. Which probably meant there was some truth to it. Maybe?
Not important. The bigger question…was Enid for fucking real?
Every line on my forehead was squished to the max and working overtime. I needed an emergency Botox injection, stat.
“You’re messing with me.”
“No, I’m not. It’s true!” She launched into a manic explanation involving fan mail, Pierce Allen’s mother, and a call out of the blue from the star’s manager.
“I don’t understand. How did Mr. G know Pierce Allen’s mom?”
Enid bit her bottom lip and smiled. “I think they were cousins.”
My mouth fell open. “And he’s coming here?”
“Yes!”
“Why? What’s in it for him?” I asked, nudging her out of the way so I could check my reflection.
“A kind deed or means of connecting with family before they’re gone, or—”
“Sounds suspicious.”
She arched her brow. “Does it matter? Mr. Gowan is thrilled. He told me he hasn’t worn that particular cravat in fifteen years.”
“Wow. He dressed just for the occasion.”
“Bet your boots he did! By the way, Mr. Allen’s people issued strict rules with scary lawyer terms attached. No more than two others are allowed to be present during this thirty-minute audience.”
“Me and you?”
Enid nodded. “We both knew you’d want a chance to meet a superstar in person.”
“I do! I do! But I would’ve worn something…sexier if I’d known.” I straightened my collar and smoothed the wrinkly bits of my slim-fitted khakis.
“He won’t notice you when he gets a load of me,” Enid boasted, swaying her hips like a saucy vixen.
I was too strung out to give anything more than an absent nod.
My friends were going to flip out. They’d never believe this. I was going to need video proof and hopefully, a selfie or two. This was big. Big. I mean, I wasn’t a crazy die-hard fan like Enid, but still…Pierce Allen.
Shit. Had I seen any of his movies? What was his character’s name again? I hoped he wouldn’t ask. I wasn’t sure my voice worked. My palms were clammy, and blood zipped through my veins so fast I was afraid I was in danger of hyperventilating.
Pull it together, Lo. He’s just a man. A regular, boring human like the rest of us.
Except he looked like a god, smiled like a devil, and could incite a riot with a simple wave of his hand. Was it Dexter or Jester? I couldn’t think straight. I knew the character he played was like James Bond.
Okay, not helpful. This was a completely different situation.
I gnawed the inside of my cheek as I ran through a list of my morning to-dos to distract myself from my impending possible meeting with the most handsome man in the world. Yep, I was pretty sure he’d won People magazine’s dubious distinction twice. Or thrice. Anywho…
Connor knew I was stopping by Mr. Gowan’s house this morning. I didn’t have to worry about racing off to work. It was a random Tuesday, and though the post-holiday, pre-Valentine season was typically slow, the store had been busier than usual. I had to go through inventory, call the chandelier company about the broken crystal in Mrs. McNulty’s new pièce-de-résistance, check the new linen order, and—