Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
"And your suit jacket?"
"Are we trading?" His smile is wry. Barely there. Completely intoxicating.
I swallow hard. I want to say yes. To keep flirting. To follow this path all the way to his bed. I can't go that far… but I can have a little. "Two shoes and socks for one jacket. That doesn't seem fair."
He chuckles. Holds up his drink. "Is your policy the same outside of work?"
"My policy?"
"You drink what I'm drinking."
Oh. "I'm not twenty-one."
"I know."
Okay. He knows that. I don't really look older than my age. Maybe it's a guess. Or maybe he punched my phone number into Facebook. Does that still work?
"It's not a problem here."
"Do they have Fever Tree?"
His smile widens. "Three varieties."
"Then that. Whichever is the best."
"Best is a matter of opinion."
"Yours?"
"You prefer strong or light?"
What a question. With all sorts of implications. Words well up in my throat.
Whatever you're willing to give me. Light. Then strong. How do you like it?
I bite my tongue again. Find something more appropriate for the circumstance. "If you're going to get wet, you might as well go swimming."
He nods. "If I'm going to get wet?"
My knees buckle. Thank God for the seat. How is he… fuck. I'm in so far over my head. This isn't even a date, and I'm already thinking about our second.
Would it be so bad? If I relaxed, called in sick to work, let him whisk me back to his place for a night I can't forget?
For an hour, I want to believe in this fantasy.
But I need a lot more gin for that.
He turns to the walkway right as a waitress appears. "Two more."
"Of course." She drops off two glasses and a carafe of water. "And food?"
"Are you hungry?" he asks.
Yes. And nervous. But drinking on an empty stomach with him—bad idea. I glance at the menu.
No prices. It's that kind of place. So expensive they don't label.
I guess I might as well enjoy it. Something I like. That I don't usually afford.
Scallops.
He gets some sort of surf and turf. Hands the menus to the server. Pours two glasses of water.
I grab mine. Take a greedy sip.
It is hot today. I need the hydration. And the way to occupy my hands. Where do I put them?
Why is it so hard sitting still across from him?
Ian.
He's too handsome. In a way that's wrong. So wrong it's right.
"How much time do you have?" His voice is matter-of-fact. Like we're colleagues prepping for a meeting.
"I work at eight today."
"I'll keep it quick."
"Thank you."
Footsteps call my attention. Another waitress—a different one—drops off our drinks. Motions to Ian's melted glass of ice. All finished?
He nods. Says thank you. Holds up his fresh drink.
I take mine.
The glass is cool against my fingers. Real glass. Not the cheap plastic we use. Something breakable. Something valuable.
This restaurant is unconcerned with drunk idiots dropping drinks. If that's what comes with his offer—
It's already a compelling argument. Serving drinks in actual glass. With no concerns of drunk idiots. Or need to hear men debate how much they'd spend to fuck a dancer.
"Your freedom again?" I suck in a deep breath. "Isn't it bad luck to toast to the same thing twice in a row?"
"Is it?"
Maybe. I have no idea. "Is that what you—"
"What do you celebrate?"
That's an even better question. With Addie, I'm happy to toast to anything. She's alive. That's what matters. But I'm not sharing that with Ian. And there isn't anything else worth celebrating. I paid the rent on time. Hooray? "My hair looks great."
"It does."
"That's um… probably the highlight of my day."
"Eve, that hurts."
"So far." My cheeks flush. God, I already like him. How can I like him? I don't know him. "To the staying power of Special Effects Sonic Green."
"To Special Effects." He taps his glass against mine.
My fingers brush his. That same rush of desire. Heat against the cool glass.
I bring the drink to my lips. Let the ice try—and fail—to cool me.
This is the best gin and tonic I've ever had. Floral gin. The bite of lime. The strong taste of quinine.
Refreshing.
Balanced.
Unable to lower my temperature.
I swallow another sip. Suck on an ice cube.
It doesn't help. It gives me ideas. Which is ridiculous.
I'm not going to drop to my knees for some strange man. No matter how much I want to.
Why the fuck do I want to?
His gaze shifts to my lips. He watches me crush and swallow the ice cube. He watches like he has the same ideas.
Usually, that annoys me. Not on Ian. He's just so…
Sexy.
And vague about why I'm here.
But, right now, I don't really care. I want to watch him watch me.
I want to take in his deep eyes, his strong posture, his intense presence. For a minute. An hour. Forever.
Only I don't have forever.
I barely have an hour.
Ian takes another sip. Sets his cocktail on the table. Focuses every ounce of his attention on me. "I won't waste your time, Eve."