Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 59659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Then again, it might drive some business into town, which would be good for the grocery store. Especially if people stayed in town, like at the bed and breakfast that had opened not long ago. I thought Carmela had said something about that place being owned by one of Mark and Victor’s friends too, but I couldn’t remember off the top of my head.
I arrived at the parking lot and took in the look of the place first, gauging whether or not I wanted to just turn around and leave. I still had that option, right up until Victor saw me. I could just get back in my car, call the whole thing off, and go home. I even had leftover Chinese in the fridge. I could make a night of it.
A black truck pulled in behind me, and I turned to look at it. A man inside waved, and my hand was halfway up before I realized it wasn’t just a friendly customer who recognized me as was often the case. It was Victor. He pulled into the spot a couple down from me and got out. I didn’t move from where I was at the end of my own car. The desire to leave had never been stronger.
Then I saw him. He was walking toward me, dressed in a smart suit that looked very different from the one he wore to the store the other day. It was designed to impress. It worked.
His broad shoulders filled the suit out and as he walked toward me with a swagger and a grin, I felt butterflies of an entirely different type fill my stomach.
“Hello princess,” he said as he neared me. He was looking me up and down with an appreciative look.
“Princess?” I repeated, attitude suddenly snapping back into my voice.
“I’m teasing you,” he said. “You look amazing, though. You could pass for one, easily.”
“Oh, well, thank you,” I said, knocked a bit off kilter.
“Shall we?” he asked.
He poked out his elbow, and even though a part of me still wanted to tear out his throat and offer that to the board on the next meeting, I was drawn to it like a magnet, slipping my hand inside the crook and walking alongside him.
He broke off to hold the door open for me, and as we got inside, the smell of the delicious food filled my senses. We went up to the hostess table, and Victor mentioned his name. They quickly ushered us to a booth, secluded away in a dark corner of the restaurant with a spectacular view of the street. My store was in the distance, it’s yellow light like a beacon.
But my attention wasn’t on that. It was on the boyish, charming grin across from me at the table. And at the way I found myself grinning back.
11
VICTOR
Well, this was going to be difficult.
Melanie looked absolutely stunning. The red blouse hugged the curve of her breasts tightly, and the neckline went down far enough to show a level of cleavage that was delightfully sinful.
It could have been a herculean struggle not to let my eyes wander, but there was something else occupying my attention. Her eyes. Bright almond-shaped eyes, blue like the sea on a gray morning, sharp and alert, stared back at me over the table as we sat down. She was magnificent. In every respect, in every shallow description of her appearance, she was magnificent.
I found myself at a loss for words, which was an exceedingly rare thing. But I felt hushed by her beauty. Silenced by the magic of her eyes. Doubled back on my heels by the way her skirt held tightly around her backside and how enticing her smooth legs looked.
I hadn’t felt this way in years.
“Nice place, isn’t it?” I asked as I pulled the menu toward me.
“It is,” she agreed. “I can see the store from here.”
Shit. She routed the conversation back already. I wasn’t prepared to let go of our good time just yet.
“Can you? Oh, hey, before I forget, are you all right with me ordering a bottle of wine for the table?”
She looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t quite read. Perhaps it was because she was trying to read me. My intentions were pure enough. I simply did want a bottle of wine for the table, but I could see where she might think there were ulterior motives to it.
“That’s fine,” she said. “Whatever you want on your bill.”
“My bill?” I asked.
“I assumed we were splitting this?” she asked.
There was a playfulness in her voice that suggested she knew full well that I didn’t intend that at all, but she wanted to make me say it. She wanted me to tell her that I was treating her to this meal. I smiled.
“No,” I said. “This is my treat. An olive branch, if you will.”