Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
He squeezed her hand and took off toward his office, tugging her behind him. He pushed the door open, let go of her hand, and stood aside for her to enter.
She gave him a quizzical look, before passing him and entering what she’d considered his private domain.
It was nice in there, as huge and bright and airy as the rest of the place, with the same breezy mismatched decorative style that was present throughout his home. Lots of blues, greens and whites, a massive glass desk facing the huge wall of windows that overlooked the Atlantic ocean. She didn’t know why anyone would want to work anywhere else when they could be in here.
“I wanted you to see this before you made your decision,” he said, the desperation from before creeping back into his voice. She couldn’t make sense of why it was there.
She was on the brink of telling him that she’d already made her decision to leave when she finally understood what it was that he wanted her to see.
Her hand came up to cover her mouth and stifle the betraying gasp of delight when she spotted the smaller version of his glass desk against the left wall, directly in front of the window. From Ben’s desk all you could see was sky and ocean, but from that smaller one—she walked closer to investigate and smiled—you could see the street, the beach, people. It was a people watcher’s wet dream.
Across from the desk, tucked beside a bookshelf filled with financial almanacs, boring economic handbooks, and various tomes on marketing, was a different work space altogether. One set up with a shoot through umbrella, several studio lights, and some of the props she’d stored at the Constantia house after terminating the lease agreement for her previous studio.
“You could bring your clients here,” he told her, sitting in his office chair and leaning back to watch her carefully. “Once I’m back at work, I’ll only use this office in the evenings. So you’d have the office space mostly to yourself. We may have to share at times, but I’ll let you know ahead of time. And you and I are used to sharing a work space anyway.”
The last was said with a tiny smile, one that invited her to share in his nostalgia. But she couldn’t enjoy the memories of them sharing his various offices anymore. She’d once treasured them, now all she could think of was that Ben had felt coerced into sharing his office with her. Had considered it part of his babysitting duties.
She simply couldn’t smile about that any longer. Not when he’d likely felt stifled by her presence and imprisoned in his own space.
She dragged the chair from the smaller desk closer and sat down across from him, watching him as intently as he was watching her. Trying—and failing—to read his expression.
She chose not to respond to his last comment and diverted the topic back to the present. “Ben, you do realize that my clients are dogs, right? Dogs and their people.”
“Of course, I do. Think of the amazing shoots you could on the terrace, up on the roof. In here. With the ocean as your backdrop. The dogs—and their people—would love it.”
“And you’d be okay with a bunch of strangers traipsing through your home on a daily basis?”
It was admirable really, how manfully he managed to keep that cringe in check.
“Right now, it’s our home. And I want you to feel comfortable here.”
“I don’t know,” she said, betraying her nerves by chewing on her cuticle again. She folded her thumb into her palm when she realized what she was doing. “I don’t think it’ll be a good idea for me to stay here, Ben.”
“Why not?” She could hear the frustration edging into his voice.
“Because you only have one bed.”
“I could fix that. It’s not a problem.”
She gave him a long, searching stare, but could see no deception in that blue gaze. And not a trace of manipulation on his handsome face. Then again, an expert manipulator would be good at hiding his true intentions from others.
She felt like a complete sucker, even considering this suggestion, but—she glanced over at that desk again—she was so tempted.
“Why don’t you give it a week or two?” he suggested in a hushed voice as if she were a wild deer he was afraid of startling. “See how you like it.”
“I have other options,” she whispered, and his throat moved before he nodded.
“I know you do.”
“If I do this it’s because it’s convenient and nothing more.”
“Okay.”
“How will you solve the bed problem?”
“I’ll take the sofa tonight. And have the king replaced with two queens tomorrow.”
The room was massive enough to allow for that.
“It seems like a terrible inconvenience.”
“It’s not.” His tone brooked no argument.
“You’re not just doing this out of some misplaced sense of responsibility, are you? Because you don’t have to do that. You don’t owe Gramps anything.”