Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Long-ass story. Let’s just say it was a fake relationship that turned real.”
“Fake? You mean like the setup you see in rom-com movies?” She blinks at me.
“I don’t watch rom-com, but probably. It was the dumbest move Dex ever made, yet somehow it paid off for him. Lucky idiot.” Her face drops after I say ‘lucky’ as I put the car in drive. “For the record, I don’t share his mission to purge the Earth of sugar. I just don’t like too much cream. If I want coffee, I want its soul.”
“You mean you like it bitter?” Like you? The implication in her voice is clear.
“I like to taste coffee. I’m sure you’re aware that’s not why we’re here, though.”
I take a deep breath.
Business, business.
She knows the real reason.
Now, let’s see if we can get through one whole day together without someone being arrested for murder.
Our first stop is a small, but cozy rental home near the edge of the city. Salem’s face lights up and she gasps joyfully when we step inside.
It’s far from the first time this place has triggered that reaction.
Nobody expects the tropical-looking interior, bright and airy with plenty of natural light, reclaimed wooden walls, and vibrant greens and pinks bursting on the walls behind impressive plants.
“Holy crap. It’s like a trip to the Florida Keys without leaving Missouri,” she whispers. “You worked on this design?”
“My older brother, Archer, he pushed for this look,” I say, showing her around. She fingers the wicker furniture. “A taste of paradise, he calls it. He always loved my mother’s old place down there, back when she had it. She used to spend a lot of time hopping around Florida and the Caribbean when she was young.”
“Well, I love it. All this color, whoa.” We step into the master bedroom. Even the colorful bedspread catches her eye—a brightly colored woven blanket—and she opens the wooden shutters to let the sun in. “Awesome light, even in here. Your brother must’ve had the windows modified.”
“Arch insisted. He was proud of it in the end. It was one of our first acquisitions and it turned out a hell of a lot better than we imagined.”
“So, are you guys always this hands-on with design?” She glances at me expectantly.
“Not exactly. When it’s something as big as The Cardinal, or even our typical multi-unit place, we work off consensus and turn the rest over to designers. We do have a few smaller passion-projects that we handle ourselves, though.”
“Interesting strategy. I love how this turned out; it’s exotic and stunning. Archer Rory must have an eagle eye for detail.” She can’t stop smiling.
Why the hell does my blood heat?
Somehow, I get the feeling she wouldn’t be showering it with so much praise if the idea was mine.
Later, I prove my point when we head to one of my projects. It’s a modern, elegant home, and she wanders around in total silence.
“This is yours,” she says without prompting.
I stare at her, resisting the sinking urge to ask how she knows.
“That’s right,” I say. “What do you think?”
“It reminds me a little of The Cardinal’s look.” She peers out of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the peaceful backyard. “It’s definitely nice and all.”
“How generous,” I bite off. “You called the other place stunning.”
“I did.” She clears her throat. “I mean, look—Archer’s house uses a lot of color. That stands out in a Midwestern city that loves its historic brick buildings and pretty basic neutrals for anything more modern.”
“It’s garish. Too whimsical for many,” I snarl.
“I think you mean stylish.”
“This is stylish.”
Brutal pause.
Her eyes flare with challenge.
“This is expensive, Mr. Rory,” she says firmly. “And it could really use some blinds. The sun must get blinding in the morning, and what about privacy?”
I look at the view, the fenced-in yard and old trees behind the house, and the fact that nobody could see into this room.
“Blinds would ruin the aesthetic. Clearly,” I tell her.
“But just imagine walking around this place naked.” She gestures at the almost wall-length window. “Imagine being on show like that if any neighbors looked through the fence.”
Shit.
I blink away the thought of seeing her naked like I have sand in my eyes.
However annoying she is, she’s got curves for miles, a body made to rock and fucking roll.
Otherworldly tits, and I should know because I—
No. Fuck you and your monkey brain, man.
We are not revisiting that night.
“This is an excellent neighborhood. I assure you no one goes creeping around here, peeping through windows, Miss Hopper,” I say.
“It’s not about that, though. You feel exposed here.” She shivers and turns her back firmly on the window. “I don’t like it, but maybe it’s just me.”
“You don’t like it because it’s mine.” I immediately regret those words.
Something about dealing with this woman destroys every thread of professionalism I own. I’m sure it has everything to do with the fact that we’ve slept together.