Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“I’m offended. I can do this shopping lark.”
“Then do it.”
“I will.”
“Good for you.” I shake my head to myself. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
“It’s you that’s hot.”
There’s that grin again. And a wink. This man is far too cheeky for his own good. And for mine, undoubtedly.
But as if he didn’t say something provocative, his shoulders roll, pushing out his broad chest. “So, how many more gifts have you got to buy?” And that snaps me back to the actual task at hand.
I grimace and check my watch again. “Four.”
“Me too,” he says. “I’ll race you.”
Looking up at him, I tilt my head, part humored, part wary. “What?”
“I’ll race you. The first to complete their shopping list wins.”
“Wins what?”
“Dinner with the other.”
Oh? How did we go from naught to dinner so quickly? “Isn’t that a bit backward? Either way, we’ll be having dinner.”
His eyes gleam. “Exactly.”
Oh, he’s cute. “But I’m not dating at the moment.”
“Even better.”
I turn away, forcing myself not to engage with his playfulness. It’s hard. His playfulness is quite charming. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Why?” He sounds affronted.
“I just can’t.” Why can’t I? What’s stopping me? Pride? Ego? I hear my sister’s voice condemning me for the lack of excitement in my life. Would accepting his offer be exciting? Outlandish? Stupid? “I just can’t,” I say again, sounding as unsure as I am.
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal.” He steps forward, and I instinctively step back. “You win, I’ll admit defeat like a good loser. If I win, I get to take you out for dinner.”
“You don’t know me.” And that’s a crying shame, because this man is gorgeous.
“I know you’re as disorganized as I am when it comes to Christmas shopping.” He smiles, and I can’t help returning it. “Been busy at work?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my whole body going soft, my back meeting the wall next to him. “You could say that.”
“Me too. No time for dating?”
I shake my head.
“Me either. How do two people get to know each other?”
“Shopping together?” I suggest, hiding my secret smile.
He laughs a little under his breath. “Or they go on a date and have dinner. So what do you say?”
“I’m too busy.” I dig my feet in before he talks me around. The last time I went on a date, I ended up giving up my job, leaving my family, leaving Ireland, moving to London, and all to be shat on from a great height. I’m still wounded. And bitter. My heart is still not repaired and concentrating on my career is safe. Having no excitement in my life is safe. Being boring is safe. I can’t be sorry about that.
I can tell Mr. Sexy as Fuck is reading between the lines by the way he’s looking at me with curiosity. No woman is that busy she can’t spare an evening for a date.
“Come on,” he coos lowly, pushing his back from the wall and holding his hand out. “Let’s make this painful task a little more fun.”
“I’ll win anyway,” I tell him.
“Then you have nothing to fear. If you win, I’ll give up my quest to tempt you to dinner.” His hand reaches forward, and I don’t know why, but I nod, agreeing and accepting his game.
“Okay.” What does it matter? Like he said, he won’t win anyway.
His smile is wide and satisfied. “Great.” He gives my hand a little squeeze and drops it, turning to the doors as they slide open. “I’ll make reservations.”
“What?”
Walking off, he looks over his shoulder to where I’m a statue in the elevator. “I never lose.”
The doors start to slide close, and it jerks me to life. I slip through the small gap and go after him. Oh, he’s getting it. In the non-sexual way, of course. I’m as competitive as they come. A terrible loser. I will not lose to this cocky bastard. “We need rules.” I round him and block him, but he doesn’t stop, colliding with me. I’m knocked back a few paces, until he grabs me and steadies me, and I get a waft of his aftershave. It has me closing my eyes and inhaling.
“Okay,” he says softly. “Let’s set the rules.” Releasing me, he moves away, putting a safe distance between us. “Shoot.”
I blink a few times, looking away from his lovely eyes. “We need budgets. Say fifty quid a gift.”
“Fifty?” He coughs. “What am I going to get for fifty quid?”
I poke him in his chest. It’s solid. Of course it is. I quickly reclaim my finger as he glances to where it just prodded him. “You can’t have a bigger budget than I have. It’s not fair. You can go on a free-for-all and buy anything that takes your fancy. I can’t afford more than fifty, so the budget is fifty.”
“Can I buy you?”