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)
“Hello,” I answer cautiously.
“Lori.”
At the sound of Cole’s rich, deep voice, I set my empty plate aside. “Hi,” I say. “Did you make it to Houston?”
“I just got to my hotel room,” he says, sounding weary. “How late did you work?”
“Are you checking up on me?” I ask, feeling a bit defensive.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he says. “I trust you. Remember? I was on the internet on the plane. Reese told me. You can take your work home. You know that, right?”
I glance at the apartment, the dinginess reminding me of negativity and tears. “I liked being at the office. I liked feeling like I was back where I’m supposed to be, doing what I’m supposed to do.”
“You like feeling in control again. And the moment I took that from you the night we met was the moment I ensured you’d run.”
“I didn’t run.”
“No,” he says. “You’re right. You walked away with fierce determination. Did you ever regret it?”
Yes, I think, but what I say is, “I don’t think we should talk about this.”
“Did you regret it?” he presses again, his voice low, gruff.
“Any answer I give you to that question is the wrong answer when you’re my boss.”
“Spanking you was a mistake. It made you feel like I’d always have the control you were desperately trying to get back.”
“No” I say. “It wasn’t a mistake. Cole, you gave me the escape I wanted and God, I needed. You gave me a chance to let go, for just a little while, and somehow you made me feel safe enough to do it with you when I didn’t know you. That night was the first time in a year I did anything for myself. It was, it was…perfect.”
“Until morning. Until you left.”
“You know my situation, and that morning I was working four jobs—three part-time and one full-time—with no idea when I’d go back to school. If I had stayed, you would have thought that I found out you had money and I wanted some kind of sugar daddy. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have.”
“That’s why you left?”
“Part of the reason.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that,” he says firmly. “Not with you.”
“You say that now, but I’m not in the same place I was then.”
“I’ll tell you again when I see you and make you believe it.”
“No,” I say quickly, sitting back up. “We need to talk about this now, and then set it aside.”
“Is that a rule?”
“Yes. A rule. And speaking of rules—”
“Don’t make them yet,” he warns. “Not when I promised to follow those rules and I always keep my promises. Don’t box me, or us, in yet. Not over the phone.”
“Now, on the phone is safer.”
“But not better,” he says. “We need closure that won’t give us. We need to talk, and we need to do it in person, away from the office. You know we do.”
“Cole,” I whisper, shutting my eyes, wanting that talk, but knowing it can’t happen.
“Ah, sweetheart,” he says softly. “I do really love hearing you say my name again. Get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He hangs up.
Chapter twenty-two
Lori
Ifall asleep thinking about the kiss I’d shared with Cole in his office, and I wake up to a text message from him that reads: I finally figured out what you smelled like the night I met you. Honeysuckle and coffee. No wonder I’ve doubled my caffeine intake since meeting you. I wanted more.
I inhale and let it out with the realization that he really has been thinking about me in the past and the present. Even more so, he’s been contemplating how I smell, in a sexy, want more kind of way. I decide the safest way to answer is with a businesslike explanation and so I reply with: One of my part-time jobs was at a coffee shop, as if that reply somehow deflates the reason he knows how I smell, or changes what “more” means.
He calls immediately and when I answer, he says, “Look, sweetheart, I’m in a car about to arrive at the office and after that I’m going dark for a while, but I think you need to hear what I was thinking about you last night. Do you remember when I told you that you’re different?”
How can I not? I think. I was on a sidewalk pressed against a wall, with his big perfect body, close, but yet, not close enough. “I remember.”
“I read people, too,” he says. “And I know now why I said those words to you that day. I sensed the depth of your character. I sensed the struggles and the fight. It’s what makes you special. Every job, and every struggle you’ve had will make you a better attorney. Remember that. You aren’t behind anyone. You’re two steps ahead.”
The dogmatic intensity of his words, and the unexpected shift from bedroom to boardroom takes me off guard but I recover with sincere appreciation and concern. “Thank you, Cole,” I say, “that means a lot to me, but please do not feel that you have to—”