Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Ireland? The woman who sent you the decapitated flowers?”
Well, when she said it like that, it sounded a little nuts to create a committee out of thin air and invite someone who cut the heads off of the expensive flowers I sent her and walked out on our lunch date before we’d even ordered.
I sighed. “Yeah, her.”
“When would you like me…”
“Soon.”
“Do you have an agenda in mind for this committee’s first meeting?”
“Women’s shit. I don’t know. You must know better than me. Pull something together.”
Millie looked like she was seconds away from walking over and feeling my forehead to see if I had a fever.
Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe I was sick instead of losing my mind? It damn well better be one or the other. I dragged a hand through my hair. A committee on women’s initiatives? I wanted to be part of that almost as much as I wanted someone to grip my nuts in their fist and twist. Yet here I was, apparently spearheading the group.
What the fuck?
Ireland Saint James. That’s what the fuck. In my entire life, I’d never had to go out of my way to talk to a woman, yet this woman had me calling her to check how her day was going and then inventing a fucking committee when she asked the reason for my call. Stress, too much work—it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that I could be experiencing a breakdown.
While I debated a quick trip to a therapist, my assistant was still standing in my office, looking at me like I had two heads. I picked up a file and looked at her pointedly.
“Do you need anything else from me to get it started?”
“Umm... No, I don’t think so.”
“Good. Then that’ll be all.”
Millie stopped in my doorway and turned back. “The mail came. Would you like today’s letter—”
“Throw it out,” I barked.
“I’ll get right on it. And don’t forget about the photo shoot tonight.”
The confused look on my face told her I had no fucking idea what she was talking about, so she filled in the blanks.
“You have an interview and photo shoot for Today’s Entrepreneur magazine. It was scheduled a few months ago, and it’s on your calendar.”
Shit. Photo shoots and interviews were right up there with committees on women in the workplace on my list of crap I had zero interest in being part of. “What time?”
“Four thirty. At Leilani.”
I looked at my watch. Great. I had an hour to finish up six hours of work.
***
A half dozen people were already sitting on the dock in front of Leilani when I parked at the marina. It was four thirty, right on the nose. They must’ve been early.
A familiar-looking redheaded woman smiled as I approached.
“Mr. Lexington. Amanda Cadet.” She extended her hand to me. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Again. Well, that explained why she looked familiar. Though I had no idea where we’d met. Probably some industry function. “You, too. Please, call me Grant.”
“Alright. And please call me Amanda.”
I looked around at a shitload of equipment. “Are you moving in?”
She laughed. “We brought a lot of camera and video equipment, because we weren’t sure of the setting. To be safe, we even packed some props and a few canvas backgrounds. Though we can obviously put that all back in the truck.” She turned to eye my boat. “This sailboat is stunning, and the scenery is better than any movie set.”
“Thank you. It was my grandfather’s. First sailboat he ever built in 1965.”
“Well, you could have told me it was brand new.”
I nodded my head toward the Leilani May. “Why don’t I show you around, and you can decide where your crew wants to set up.”
I gave Amanda a quick tour. The sixty-foot ketch was eye candy, even to non-boaters. Navy hull, satin finish teak wood, cream upholstery, stainless steel galley, an owner’s stateroom more luxurious than most apartments, and three guest cabins made it look more like a Vineyard Vines ad than a sixty-year-old sailboat.
“So…what do you think? Where should we do this?”
“Honestly, anywhere would make for a great shoot. The boat is beautiful.” She lifted a painted nail to her bottom lip, calling my attention to it. “And the subject is flawless. This cover is going to pull big numbers.”
Amanda Cadet was attractive, and she knew it. She also knew how to use it to get what she wanted. Though whatever she thought she was getting from me—a story with some major revelation or my mouth between her legs—she wouldn’t be. Because business and pleasure don’t mix. I almost laughed at that thought after the way I’d been acting around Ms. Aruba Tits.
I held out my hand to indicate she should exit the cabin first. “Why don’t we go out on the rear deck and set up on the left side with the marina in the background?”