Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Cole looks at me. “I’ll explain.” His arm wraps my shoulders and he kisses me before we follow the waitress, and I try to decide what I feel. This woman was clearly intimate with Cole, and it wasn’t a one-time thing. But he was free then. He was a gorgeous, successful man who, of course, had women lining up for him. I have no reason to be bothered by this. He’s my husband.
We settle into a half-moon-shaped booth, and once we’re alone, Cole’s hand comes down on my leg and he drags me close. “She was just someone I knew.”
“She’s very pretty.”
“She is very pretty, and yet I had no desire to see her or anyone else from the moment I met you. And that, my wife, pissed me off.”
I blanch. “Pissed you off? Why did it piss you off?”
“Because you left me and I had no idea how to find you.”
“Oh,” I laugh. “That.”
“Yes. That.”
“How well did you know Ms. Very Pretty?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I say. “It does.”
“I had a couple of women I dated casually.”
“You mean a couple of women you fucked?”
His grip tightens on my leg. “Now I only fuck you, as often as I can.”
“I’m glad we don’t live here.”
“Me too, sweetheart,” he says softly, his mood darkening. “Me too. And for the record, you’re beautiful and the only reason I agreed that she’s pretty is I wanted you to understand that it didn’t matter. You mattered then and you damn sure matter now.”
The waiter appears at that very moment and Cole leans in and kisses me, and the rush of heat flooding my body isn’t about the kiss, well, not the kiss alone. It’s about this man and all the things he makes me feel and want and need. And now I know I can have all of those things that I still feel, want, and need just as much. Cole orders a bottle of wine after we discuss our options, and no sooner does the man disappear then the hostess appears, leaving us a tall, dark and good looking man in a gray suit with a neatly trimmed goatee.
“What’s a guy got to do to get a whiskey sour around here?” he asks, claiming the seat on the other side of the booth from us.
“Hey, man,” Cole says. “Good to see you.”
They do some guy shake that isn’t a shake at all and then Alex is fixing me in a rich brown stare. “And you must be Lori.”
“I’m definitely not Shelly,” I say before I can stop myself.
Both men laugh and Alex says, “No. You are not. I know Shelly, and Cole was never going to marry that woman.”
The waiter appears with our wine, and a few minutes later, all three of us have drinks in front of us and Alex cuts to the chase. “I know why you want me. You have an asshole running the Houston location.”
“While that’s true, that’s not why,” Cole says. “We want to rule the world. I believe you can help us do that.”
I sit back and listen to them talk, enjoying watching my husband negotiate as much as I enjoy watching him in the courtroom. He needs to be back in a courtroom. “What’s the offer?” Alex finally asks.
“You can buy in as third in line.”
“Why not equal?”
“I put in fifty million. If you want to meet that, you’re equal,” Cole says.
Alex arches a brow. “I’ll go a few million tops and we both know you didn’t buy in for fifty million.”
“No,” Cole concedes, “but I set-up a fund for the company, readily available in that sum. Money you’d have available. Are you in?”
“I want to meet Reese,” he says. “I’ll hitch that ride with you, but I have a trial starting next week. It’s big and I’m all the way in on it until it’s over.”
“We’ll make it work,” Cole says.
“What’s the case?” I ask.
“Real estate investor accused of killing his wife to get out the sizable divorce settlement and then burying her under a rental house,” he says. “Her sister did it. I’m going to prove it.”
I start asking questions, intrigued by the case, and before long our glasses are empty and stomachs full. Alex looks at me and then Cole. “If you had to go the damn marriage route, at least you picked one with a brain.”
“You don’t like marriage?” I ask.
“Not the marrying kind,” he says dryly. “Not the family kind. I work too hard and too long, with no time for distractions, like women who need and want more than what I need and want.”
“Which is what?” I ask.
“A moment that passes without a mention of white picket fences so I can get back to work.”
“And you’re thirty-six?” I ask.
“Look out,” Cole says. “She’s going to tell you that—”
“That there must be something wrong with me,” Alex supplies. “There is and I like it that way.” He glances at his watch. “What time are we leaving in the morning?”