Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
But that’s not a good entry into the no-need-to-worry topic, so I click on the card reader to sort receipts. A minute later, my office phone rings, and I’ve been waiting for a call.
“That might be an apparel guy I need to talk to. I’ll be right back,” I say, then I dart into my office and answer.
It’s Chet at Fletcher Parts, one of my regular suppliers. As Trudy wanders into my office, squeaking her gator, we discuss the delay on an upcoming order. I’m eager to end the call, but he’s not so quick to hang up. “Hey, tomorrow we have a Bike to Work event in Central Park. We’ll be passing out info on bike routes and sharing a checklist on safety procedures. You’re still coming, right?”
That’s tomorrow?
I glance at the calendar on my computer. Yup. There it is. Snuck up on me. But that’s an important event. “Absolutely. I’ll be there,” I say, and when I finally escape from Chet the Chatterbox, I’m ready to fly to the Bloom side of the store. But Veronica’s at my office door, hip jutting out, purse on her shoulder.
“Hey, do you mind if I take off now?” she asks, hooking her thumb toward the street.
Fuck. My heart clangs to the floor, right next to Trudy and the decimated reptile. “Of course,” I say, since that’s what a good guy would do.
Except, nope.
I’m wrong. Dead wrong.
It’s No Worries Day.
“Veronica,” I call out.
The charming, lively brunette turns around, tilting her head. “Yes, Milo?”
Ah, hell. The way my name rolls off her tongue is too much.
I’m not a good boss. I’m not at all gentlemanly when I close the distance between us and say, “I don’t own a combination bookstore and calorie-free cake shop, but I’m very good with my hands.”
She gasps. Her eyes widen, but the nerves I’ve seen before are all gone. The only thing I see now is desire.
“You are,” she says, soft and sultry.
I reach for her shoulders, cupping them. Her skin is so soft, and so inviting. “I want to tell you something,” I whisper, my voice a rough scrape.
“Tell me,” she says, sounding as desperate as I feel.
Then, I follow the roadmap she gave me in number five in her top-five fantasies. “I thought about you all day.”
She drops her purse to the floor, a few feet from my chomping dog. Then, she grabs my face and angles her head like she’s about to kiss me.
Bring it on.
16
The Milo Buffet
Veronica
* * *
If I were making a list of my top-five risky ideas this summer, launching myself at the man who pays my bills would be one through five.
But lust is stronger than logic.
I clasp Milo’s handsome face, look into his blue eyes, and I . . . pause.
Let myself experience the anticipation, no matter how foolish this choice is.
He curls his fingers more tightly over my shoulders, tension lining his body. But he waits too, patiently.
I’ve imagined kissing this man so many times. There are easily five hundred eighty seven dirty deeds and counting that I want to try with him. I have no clue how he connected the dots, and I don’t care. My mind whirs into sensory overload. I crave his lips, hard and rough against mine, then tender and gentle, then swoony and so terribly soft I go weak in the knees. I’ll take one of everything please.
But as I look into his clever blue eyes, a delicious new knowledge moves through me. I don’t want Mister Sexy Pants anymore.
I want Milo Dawson—my boss, my new friend, this real man. And just like that, I restart, my overactive brain quieting at last. I run my thumb over his sandpaper scruff then bring his face closer to mine. I say hello to his mouth with mine.
His lips are pillowy soft, and he tastes fresh, borderline minty. Like he brushed his teeth after lunch. That alone is a turn-on, but so is the sound he makes as I kiss him. A low hum of vibration.
The noise flutters through me, making my skin buzz.
We bump noses, then angle our faces, finding a better position. A shift here, a move there as we discover how to kiss each other.
As I kiss Milo, I eagerly take mental notes, learning what he likes right as he learns more about what I crave. We read the books of each other’s wishes. With each passing second, our kisses get better, hotter, headier.
I kiss the corner of his lips, then slide my mouth over his. He takes my bet and raises it, nipping me, then sucking gently on my lower lip.
That’s so good, my whole body trembles. He curls his fingers more tightly around my shoulders, like if he travels one more inch on my body, he’ll slam me against the wall and kiss me ruthlessly.