Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
She let him in, and he greeted her with a warm kiss on the mouth. His lips lingered, and she sighed into him.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” she said, running her tongue over her lips.
She could be so happy here, and she didn’t want her sister to ruin what she was building in Serendipity, she thought, then immediately felt guilty and selfish.
“Just nice?” Sam asked, his brows wrinkled.
“Very nice,” she amended, chiding herself to push thoughts of her sister and her problems out of her mind.
She had a hot man waiting for her, and she wasn’t about to waste time thinking about things that might not happen. There was always the chance that her sister’s doctor wouldn’t allow her to come to Serendipity at all.
And if he did?
Nicole would stand by her twin. They were blood. She had no choice.
* * *
Sam narrowed his gaze. Nicole’s preoccupied tone set off warning signals that something was up. Especially since he didn’t think his kissing skills had gone south since he saw her last. She was barely paying attention when usually she couldn’t keep her hands to herself when they were alone.
“What’s wrong?” Although she’d definitely dressed for their date, looking hot and sexy, her mind was elsewhere.
And when she glanced at her phone before answering him, she confirmed his suspicions.
“I just spoke to my sister.”
He preferred not to think about her mentally ill twin, but as he’d told his brother, they were two different people. “Is everything okay?”
She rolled her shoulders and sighed. “Her doctor says she’s ready for a day visit, and she’s hoping my parents will let her come home.”
His gut cramped at the thought of her twin out and about in the world. “Why wouldn’t they?”
Nicole pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Let’s not discuss my dysfunctional family.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles in the hopes of getting her to relax. “You can talk to me,” he said, meaning it.
She shook her head. “Nobody should have to handle my load but me. I appreciate it, though.” She shifted her gaze. “So where are we going for dinner?”
He ought to respect her need for privacy and be happy with her unwillingness to share. The more distance they kept between them, the better. She was too easy to fall for. But it bothered him that she wouldn’t confide in him about her problems and feelings. Shit. No feelings. He shook his head and forced himself to take her cue and move on to the rest of the evening.
He’d made a reservation at a steak house about twenty-five minutes outside Serendipity. Once there, he’d requested a quiet table in the back, where he held her hand and plied her with good wine, and visibly she relaxed. The tightness in her expression eased, and her eyes, which had seemed so troubled earlier, were clearer and focused on him.
Their secluded table consisted of a booth in the back corner, and they let him sit beside her, not across the table. He could lean in and inhale her floral scent, watch her enjoy her meal, and shift positions so their thighs aligned and touched throughout the various courses.
They talked about nothing and everything, and Sam learned how much they had in common, from enjoying all the new police procedural shows on television to the occasional raunchy comedy—which surprised him—to classic rock tunes. They differed on sports. She hated football, which only made him determined to teach her the workings of the game and change her mind this upcoming season.
Finally, she placed her fork and knife down on her plate and let out a pleased sigh that went right to his dick. “The best steak ever,” she said.
“Worth the trip,” he agreed for more reasons than the food. He’d do just about anything to keep the satisfied smile on her face, not to mention the way she looked at him, unable to take her eyes off him for a second. The feeling was more than mutual.
She finished her second glass of red wine, and the server immediately came around asking if she’d like a refill. “No, thank you.” She covered the top of the glass with her hand.
“Tipsy?” he asked.
She smiled. “Pleasantly buzzed.”
He, on the other hand, was perfectly sober and driving them home, but he could freely admit to being high on her alone. There’d never been a lull in the conversation. Everything she talked about, from her plans for the bakery, which she hoped to have the keys to next week, to stories of how she’d managed to raise big money for Tyler’s mother’s campaign for borough president, both charmed and interested him.
“Enough about me. What makes Sam Marsden tick?” she asked.
“Right now, you’re making me tick,” he said, leaning in close and nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck. He wanted to get inside her skin.