Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Thank you.”
“You’re so pretty, yet not in an unapproachable way. Do you know what I mean?”
I think she means I’m not Addison Ames. Which I guess is a good thing, though Addie is beautiful.
“Sure. I guess.”
“Believe me, it’s a compliment.” Heather gestures with her hands, her black fingernails waving. “You’ve been on the scene for what? Two weeks at most? And people adore you. Of course, the fact that you’re Braden Black’s girlfriend is icing on the cake.”
Icing on the cake? The whole reason anyone cares what I have to say is because I’m Braden Black’s girlfriend. Which kind of bugs me, but since I need to make a living, I’ll deal with it.
“What kind of promotions are you looking for?” I ask.
“Probably similar to what you’re doing for Susanne. As you may know, Crystal’s Closet has a line of cosmetics, but we don’t want to compete with Susanne. We’re interested in you for other product lines.”
“Oh? Which ones?”
“Our clothing, of course. And our”—she raises her eyebrows—“line of sensual products for the bedroom.”
My cheeks warm. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean.”
Heather laughs, a chirpy laugh that doesn’t go with her dark look. “Nothing too risqué. Mainly the bustier, as I said on the phone.”
“I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Heather,” I say. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with—”
My jaw drops as my heart starts to beat double-time.
Braden is walking toward us.
“What is it?” Heather asks.
“Braden. He’s here.”
“Fabulous! I’d love to meet him.”
In seconds, he’s standing next to the table. “Skye,” he says.
“Hi, Braden. This is Heather Thomas.”
Heather holds out her hand, still sitting. “It is fabulous to meet you, Mr. Black.”
Braden takes her hand. “Nice to meet you as well. I hope you don’t mind, but I need to steal Skye away from you for a few minutes.”
“Of course not. Would you care to join us?”
“Thank you. I would love that. But first I need to talk to Skye alone.”
Heather gives Braden a dazzling smile. Rather, what would be a dazzling smile except for her nearly black lipstick, which makes it kind of menacing. “Absolutely. Take all the time you need. I’m going to order a cocktail. Skye, would you like anything?”
“We’ll both have a Wild Turkey, neat,” Braden offers.
“Fabulous. I’ll take care of it.”
“Skye?” Braden meets my gaze, his blue eyes burning.
“All right.” I stand. “Excuse me, Heather. We won’t be long.”
She nods, and I follow Braden out of the restaurant.
“What’s going on?” he says.
I fidget a little with my hands. “Well, it’s called dinner, Braden.”
He’s not amused. “You know what I mean.”
“You and I didn’t have dinner plans, so when Heather asked me to join her, I said yes.”
“Christopher told you I would be home this afternoon.”
“He did, but at the risk of repeating myself, you and I did not make any dinner plans.”
“You told Christopher you’d call me later.”
“I did. I called you to thank you for the earrings—I love them, by the way—and you didn’t call me back.”
His gaze burns me. “You’re playing a game with me again, Skye.”
Games? He really wants to go there? “Seriously? A game? I called you, Braden. You didn’t return the call. And what about the game you played with me last night? Keeping me from talking?”
“That wasn’t a game.”
“No. It was a test.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Skye—”
“A test, Braden. That’s exactly what it was. And I passed.”
The tiniest beginning of a smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “You did.”
I can’t help a self-satisfied smile.
“And now you’re paying me back.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”
A husky chuckle emerges from his throat. “I’m not wrong. You knew very well I wanted to have dinner with you tonight.”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
“Christopher told you I’d be home this afternoon.”
“Yes. Christopher told me. You didn’t tell me anything, Braden. I didn’t even know you went to L.A. until Christopher told me.”
“Christopher only tells you what I tell him to tell you.”
“And because Christopher deigns to tell me that you’ll be home this afternoon, I’m supposed to assume you want to have dinner with me?”
“Don’t turn this into an argument over semantics,” he says. “You knew very well I wanted to have dinner with you tonight, and that’s why you accepted Ms. Thomas’s invitation.”
“I accepted her invitation because she has work for me.”
“No.”
“Yes. She has work, and I need work. I’m unemployed, remember?”
“You misunderstood me. What I mean is, no, you will not be working for Crystal’s Closet.”
“And just why not?”
“Because…what you and I do in the bedroom is our own business.”
My jaw drops. “Braden, I would never—”
“Why do you think I cut that damned bustier off you last night?”
“Because you like ripping clothes off me. You’ve made that clear.”
Again, the insistent smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he keeps it at bay. “I won’t deny that, but there were easier ways of getting a leather bustier off you than cutting it with scissors.”