Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
They make me bristle. I find myself glaring down anyone who looks at her for too long.
Five minutes slide by. She finishes one effervescent drink. Her interaction with the bartender suggests that someone already bought her another. Corinne refuses and pays for it herself. Her brother is an asswipe and they share genes…but I admire her self-reliance.
Fresh drink in hand, she starts suddenly, then reaches for her phone. “Amali? What’s up?”
Since I’m sitting ten feet behind her, I can just hear her. If the music or the chatter were any louder, I couldn’t. Soon this place will be hopping and hearing myself think will be impossible. But now, it’s half-empty.
Corinne hesitates and listens to her caller, nodding. “You said something about a blind date, but you didn’t tell me you meant this weekend.” She falls quiet again, this time frowning. “Look, I don’t have anything against Craig since I’ve never met him. But I’m not free Saturday night.” The woman on the other end must be yelling, because Corinne rears back and jerks the phone from her ear. “I’m not blowing you off. And it’s not personal. Maybe another time, but—” Suddenly, she winces, then lets loose a long-suffering sigh. “What do you want, Parker?”
At the sound of my nemesis’s name, I lean closer. What is the shit stain after?
“Last time I checked, big brother, I’m over eighteen. I shouldn’t have to tell you where I am. The fact I’m answering the phone means I’m alive and well.”
I give her props for standing up to the asshole. Sure, it’s possible she’s figured out I’m eavesdropping and her rebellion is merely an act. But I don’t think so. Since she’s dealt with her brother her whole life, she must be aware that Parker is convinced he knows better than everyone and rides roughshod over the people he claims to love. He doesn’t care how overbearing his behavior is. He only cares about being right.
She sighs again. “No, I’m not available for a blind date on Saturday night, and that’s all I’m going to say. Tell Amali I’m sorry if there was any confusion.”
Corinne looks frustrated as she stabs her screen to end the call and shoves her phone in her clutch.
She hung up on her brother? Yes. She flatly ended the call without saying goodbye. Maybe she really is fed up with him…
The overattentive bartender asks her something. She shakes her head. A swing and a miss. Not thirty seconds later, the married man leans closer and tries to strike up a conversation. She turns, glances pointedly at his wedding ring, then shifts away. Another strike. A quick scan of the party guy in the corner tells me he’s going to make a play for her next. Corinne stands, drink half-finished, then grabs her purse and makes her way out of the bar before he can strike out, too.
I watch the swish of her long hair and the sway of her gorgeous ass as she heads across the lobby and disappears into the ladies’ room.
Party guy looks deflated.
I pay for my scotch and stand, then follow her. I have to admit that, so far, Corinne seems on the up and up. But the closer I am to someone, the better my BS meter works. Besides, slinking in corners isn’t how I get things done.
Since I’m here, we might as well have another chat. That has nothing to do with wanting to see her again or craving an eyeful of her in that sexy-as-hell dress.
I lean against a pillar and wait for her to emerge. Across the lobby, an old man ambles around the corner, cane in one hand, room key in the other. He scans the open area with a frown, looking lost. Tourists walk past him like he’s invisible. A bellboy approaches, pushing a rolling cart filled with luggage, but when the old man opens his mouth, the bellhop either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care and trudges by with a grunt. The elderly gentleman, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals with athletic socks, heaves a dejected sigh.
Feeling sorry for him, I shove away from the pillar to help. Before I can reach the old guy, Corinne emerges from the restroom, wearing fresh lipstick with her head held high. Since I’m still twenty feet across the lobby, she’s closer. I expect her to waltz past him.
She doesn’t.
I’m surprised.
Corinne might be strapped for capital now, but she grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth. I haven’t delved much into the investigator’s initial report, but I know from Parker that Corinne attended a posh boarding school back East and spent summers with her grandparents in an opulent mansion. When I first met her, she’d already learned to speak four languages and play the piano. She also sang in an award-winning show choir, was on the debate team, and had been chosen for the academic decathlon. In short, she grew up with every advantage.