Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Our interrupter jumps to the command in the stranger’s voice like he’s the Crowned Prince of Denmark when he snaps out, “Have Moses bring one of my suits.” As she races for a cell phone on the large walnut desk I almost desecrated, he adds, “And a dress for Ms…”
I can’t tell if it’s humor tugging his lips or another emotion, but whatever it is, his smirk has me filling in his wordless request with only the slightest bit of hesitation. “Henslee. Octavia Henslee.”
What? He had his finger in my vagina mere seconds ago. It is too late to play hard to get.
“Ms. Octavia Henslee?” Now I can’t mistake the curl of his lips. It is ninety-nine percent possessive with the final one percent reserved for the panic that he almost finger-fucked a taken woman on a rando’s desk.
“Yes, Ms.” I fight my smile for almost three seconds before it wins. “Although it may not be for much longer. A thirty-second feel-up borders on a committed relationship these days, so imagine the shackles that come with a three-minute…” I let the rake of my teeth over my lower lip finalize my reply. We still have an audience, and although shame is often associated with my family’s name, it isn’t an emotion I voluntarily force on others.
Like all men scared of the C-word, Mr. Dark and Daring frees my wrist from his firm yet arousing grip before shifting on his feet to face the woman hanging on his every word.
I’m doing the same, but dribble is pooling in the corner of my mouth, whereas hers only has wrinkles.
Our interrupter is attractive, but I don’t think they’re messing the sheets. Mr. Handsy During First Meets would be in his late twenties to early thirties maximum, whereas she appears to be mid to late sixties.
She bows her head like a servant when the mysterious stranger demands, “Have a dress couriered for Ms. Henslee. Size ten. If the bodice is fitted, perhaps a size larger.”
I skirt around him before foiling his personal assistant’s wish to jump to his command mid-dial. “A size ten is perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Recognizing she doesn’t deserve the wrath of my stink eye, I shift my attention back to the suit-clad man. “Adjustments aren’t needed for certain regions of my body.” If my tone doesn’t hint at what I’m referencing, I drag my eyes down his still pricy-looking suit, even with it being dotted with horse dung. “I thought you’d know that better than anyone?”
With my sassiness too high for me to rein in, I peer at the middle-aged woman’s frame that isn’t blocked by his wide-girthed shoulders before asking her directions to the closest bathroom.
I don’t sprint when she announces a bathroom is three doors down, but I am on the verge of power walking. If I don’t scrub my face free of controversy, I’ll shove it into Mr. Dark and Moody’s crotch. Since that would have desperation entering the equation, an air stiletto wobble must do because there’s no way in hell I’m walking away from a man as devastatingly handsome as him without the sultry hip swing that comes from wearing a sexy pair of heels.
CHAPTER 2
JACK
Elaine coughs, drawing my focus from the indecent length of Octavia’s miniskirt that had me retracing my steps three times before I eventually announced my watch to her. “Mr. Carson…” She waits for our eyes to meet before asking, “Did you have any stipulation on price?”
“No.” My reply is curt and to the point. It would send most people scuttling back a few places, but Elaine is accustomed to it. She’s worked for me for the past several years. Her attention to detail is impeccable, and we get far more work done since she doesn’t spend her day gawking at me with lusty eyes like the twelve assistants before her did.
They all had the same horny gleam Octavia’s eyes had when her head slung my way for the first time. I should have approached her sooner, but the quickest twang of an accent I strive to keep hidden had my steps freezing as quickly as my heart.
Jerseyites span the globe, but it’s rare to find one with an accent as thick and authentic as Octavia’s this far across the country. It was even more distinct when she whispered farewell to a portion of her shoe she left to fend for itself.
The reminder of her devastation has my focus returning to the present. “I’ll also need a pair of shoes. Size…” I stop, honestly lost. Determining Octavia’s dress size was easy. Curvaceous enough to steal a man’s devotion for days on end and so mouthwatering years of conflict suddenly seem nowhere near as heavy as they once did.
“Mr. Carson…” Elaine drawls out again, her accent as southern as it comes.