Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“You’re frustrated. I get that. It’s a long process, and there are a lot of moving parts. A lot of them out of my control.”
I frown. “Meaning?”
She sighs and rubs her fingers tiredly through her hair. “Meaning this case is wearing on me, too. And that’s all I can say about it.”
I stifle the urge to do what I usually do—push until I get my way.
It’s different with her, and I haven’t quite figured out how to navigate it—or if I even want to.
I gesture at her hair to change the topic. “You look different with your hair down. And without the glasses.”
I bite back the urge to tell her she looks hot as hell. I’ve had many dirty thoughts wondering what Lara McKenzie’s skin looks like, and though her top is modest for club standards, seeing her bare arms, shoulders, and a subtle amount of cleavage is enough for me to know it’s every bit as smooth as I’ve imagined. Her hair, too, begs for a man’s fingers to tangle in it, but . . .
I miss the glasses. Not just because they’re my favorite fantasy material these days but because they’re her. I’d bet anything the glasses are the real Lara, and this smoky-eyed, lip-gloss version is her way of trying to escape herself, just for a night.
Much like I am.
“Yeah, I’m a regular Clark Kent,” she mutters.
I sip my drink and try not to wince at the sweetness of the tonic. “Come again?”
“Metropolis? You know, Superman? Clark Kent’s glasses being his disguise?” She waves her hand. “Never mind. So, do you always buy bottles of vodka for yourself?”
“Nah, Kennedy and Matt were here earlier. Both bailed on me.”
“Why?”
“They got sick of my company.”
“Hmm.” Lara nods behind my shoulder. “There’s a group of women over there who I’m sure wouldn’t mind taking their place. Or mine.”
I don’t turn around. Don’t take my eyes off Lara. “I’m fine like this.”
“Sitting in a club with an SEC investigator?”
I shrug. “She’s a pain in the ass, but it turns out I find her a little compelling.”
“I know how that goes,” she says, running a finger around the rim of her glass in a gesture that shouldn’t be erotic but has my body humming all the same. I want her to touch me like that.
“Do you?” I ask, my voice a little bit lower than usual.
She meets my eyes. “Hypothetically, I may know what it’s like to be aware of someone who’s completely off-limits.”
“Sounds tricky. Do I know him?”
Lara takes a sip of her drink. “You know his type.”
“Good-looking? Good in bed?”
She laughs. “More like arrogant, stubborn, and really accustomed to getting his way.”
I nod. “Ah, yep. I do know him. I can assure you he’s also good-looking and amazing in bed.”
She rolls her eyes at my wink. “I’ll plead the fifth on the first, ignore the second altogether.”
“You don’t have to,” I say before I can think better of it.
Lara’s head snaps up. “What?”
“Look, Lara . . .” I have the most annoying, unfamiliar urge to loosen my tie more. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this nervous. “This thing with us, I know it’s complicated.”
Her eyes are wide with panic. “There isn’t a thing with us. There can’t be.”
“Why, damn it?” I snap. “Why, when this is all over, we can’t—”
“Because you’re you and I’m me,” she says. “Even without the investigation, we’re a mismatch. You’re the life of every party, and I can’t even keep a flower alive.”
The damn orchid again.
“Lara—”
Before I can speak, I smell a wave of sweet perfume, then feel arms wind around my neck.
“Hey, Ian, baby. Haven’t seen you around for a while.”
I turn my head just as a woman who looks vaguely familiar but whose name I’m not sure I ever even knew presses her mouth to mine.
Shit. Shit.
I pull back. “Oh, hey . . .”
“Taya,” she says, winding a lock of hair around her finger and not looking the least bit perturbed she just kissed someone who didn’t remember her name.
Good God. Was that my life?
I look at Lara, braced for her disgust, but she merely looks resigned as she meets my eyes. “Point proven.”
She stands, and my throat tightens in panicked frustration.
“Wait, Lara—” I make a grab for her wrist but miss.
And then she’s gone.
18
LARA
Week 3: Friday Night, Later
“Lara! Damn it, would you hold up a sec?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ian drop a wad of cash on the table and say something to Taya, but I’m already heading toward the exit.
I luck out. There’s a huge group entering the VIP section. I slip out just before the mob moves in, but a dozen or so tipsy patrons block Ian.
You want to know what I was doing back there?
Great question.
I want to know what I was doing. I’ve been wondering for the past twenty minutes.