Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
It’s a waste for me, anyway. I sit down and pull out my laptop, getting down to business.
Sabrina grabs a pillow and blanket from her overnight bag and goes to sleep. She has this cute little snore like a whistle, which starts even before we’re taxiing down the runway.
I usually knock out a heap of work on these flights, but I can’t focus today.
Listening to that cute whistle of a snore and occasionally glancing over to watch her while she sleeps drains my attention.
Damn.
Why is it like this? I should wake her up.
We both have prep work, even if it can wait a few hours. She’s going to have a hard time getting stuff done before the meeting if she wastes the entire flight and drags herself off the plane in L.A.
Unfortunately, the young woman looks so peaceful and exhausted I can’t find it in me to shake her awake.
Focus, I tell myself. Your ad managers have been drooling over this brand for weeks. This could unlock billions long-term.
It’s also the parent company of the subsidiary I barely finished the ad shoot for because I was so damn busy arguing with Sabrina Bristol in the park.
I shake my head, calling the flight attendant over.
She arrives a second later. “Yes, Mr. Heron?”
“I need my dark roast Kona I brought on board. Black.” I wave her away with my hand and stare at my laptop.
“Oh? Oooh.” Sabrina whimpers in a soft tone.
I glance over, my body hardening. The look on her face is equal parts seductive and angelic.
A wicked part of me hurts to know what she’s dreaming about.
The edge of my face warms at the thought. I grin because I don’t blush.
I can’t rip my eyes off her face, the magnetic flutter of her long lashes.
Those lush, biteable lips part softly.
Her head rolls against my shoulder, then silky chestnut hair brushes my arm, and two seconds later, I’m so fucking hard I could rip through my trousers.
This is damn wrong.
Good luck stopping the sudden fire in my veins, the way my eyes narrow, the hunger I feel with every single breath.
Then it’s her turn to take a deep breath. She shivers as it releases, then blinks her eyes a few times.
That rush of seduction washes away, bleeds back into innocence, and with each blink she becomes my assistant again. Not this delicate pixie thing straight from a wet dream, ripe for pillaging.
I clear my throat loudly as she opens her eyes, fully conscious, and takes in her surroundings.
Goddamn.
Sabrina—Miss Bristol—works for me. This shouldn’t be so fraught, but it is.
I force a grin since I can’t shift back into my normal poker face. That’s a first, too, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Welcome to the land of the living,” I tell her.
“Um—hi,” she says, picking herself up from my shoulder, her eyes widening. “Oh, no. Sorry.”
“Quite alright,” I whisper.
Lies.
What’s still happening below my belt is the very definition of not alright.
The flight attendant returns and sets my coffee down next to my laptop. She leans past me and goes to Sabrina’s side.
“Hello, Miss. You were asleep when I came by for refreshments.”
“Oh, that would be great,” Sabrina says. “Can I get some water?”
She nods. “Would you like your pastry heated or cold?”
“Pastry? Is it in a fridge or at room temperature?”
“Room temperature,” the flight attendant says.
“Cold is fine.” Sabrina drops the blanket around her and pushes it back in the bag.
“Would you like coffee as well?”
Sabrina reclines in her overstuffed leather chair. “Yes, please. If you could put it in an IV that would be perfect.”
“I’m afraid this flight only serves drinks orally.” The attendant winks. “I have a dark roast Kona and a cinnamon latte today. What would you like?”
“Cinnamon latte, please.”
“Coming right up.” The flight attendant walks away.
I look over at Sabrina until she meets my eyes. “You know those sugary lattes are the reason you think you need a caffeine drip.”
“Coffee’s so bitter. I can’t handle it without the milk and sugar,” she says.
I take a long swallow of my drink.
“Coffee with sugar in it doesn’t even give me the same buzz.”
She laughs, flipping her brown hair back over her shoulder. “I’m not surprised the black coffee isn’t too bitter for you. Kind of seems like a perfect match.”
“Touché,” I say. Time to get serious now. We have a deal to close. “I sent you a list of things I need before the meeting this afternoon. We’re going to secure this brand if it kills us, because this could be the key to unlocking the entire fashion industry for HeronComm. I’ve been vying for an in there forever, but they tend to stick with old-school New York ad companies.”
She puts two fingers to her head and salutes me. “Yeah, I glanced at everything you sent over last night. I’ll have it done within the hour.”