Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
I watched his throat move as he swallowed, enchanted by the muscles in his neck, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, the rough stubble covering his bronzed skin. The sparrow on his neck moved its wings.
My haze lasted for about a second.
Until the music and the voices of the party filtered back in, and there was movement to my right.
Kiera’s eyes were darting between the two of us, holding her own glass and wearing what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.
She’d watched and heard the whole exchange. Of course, she had. She’d been standing right beside me the entire time. I’d just forgotten about her presence.
A dick move.
Kiera talked a mile a minute and mingled with the rich and famous on the regular, and not once had she left me standing awkwardly at her side.
“This is Kiera Graves,” I said quickly, focusing on my friend. I waved at the man still holding my champagne glass with lips slightly reddened from the transfer of my lipstick. “As we’ve established, this is Kane Rhodes.”
I had angled my body to face both of them, giving Kane my side and, therefore, not putting myself at risk of ogling him like a lovestruck teenager while he drank my wine. A gesture that was so intimate and sexual I could barely breathe.
Kane did not seem perturbed; he merely changed his position, coming to stand beside me, so close that our bare arms brushed.
My body stiffened.
I did not like my bare skin brushing someone else’s like this. I had an odd thing about touching. About this kind of touching. Not quite intimate but familiar in a way that made my skin crawl.
No one, not even the scant amount of lovers I’d had, could touch me in that way. Except Kane could.
A complete stranger.
It didn’t make my skin crawl.
No. It sent heat sparking up my arm and into every nerve ending in my body.
“And you don’t know her name,” Kiera nodded to me, still grinning between the two of us like a Cheshire cat. She was enjoying this. Because she’d never seen me in this kind of situation with a man. She’d never seen me in any kind of situation with a man.
I’d met her after all the drama with the man I didn’t speak of. Had only mentioned it to her once when she’d gotten me drunk on grappa on the one vacation she’d forced me to take in Corfu.
Kane looked at Kiera when she spoke, maybe out of politeness, but his gaze didn’t stay on her for long. As if it were magnetized, it floated back to me with a sultry warmth that made the back of my neck hot.
“Unfortunately, not yet,” he replied.
“Well, then I’m not doing my job in promoting her,” she frowned.
Kiera was not a publicist by trade, but she tried very hard to be my publicist, agent and manager all in one.
“No, I’m just doing my job in sabotaging your efforts to promote me,” I countered, focusing on Kiera and not on the man staring at me, whose arm was still brushing mine.
Kiera’s scowl deepened, but she kept her attention on Kane. “Avery Hart is the best chef in New York. Which means she’s the best chef in the world.”
I rolled my eyes. Kiera was of the opinion that New York was the best city on planet Earth, and if it didn’t happen in New York, then it didn’t happen at all.
“I think many chefs in New York, and in France, Italy, Japan and practically all over the planet would beg to differ,” I told her, my ears already hot. I bet they were turning red. I loathed when the conversation veered to me in this way. I should’ve been used to it. Part of the game was playing into praise and giving interviews, though I had strict guidelines to determine which ones I’d participate in.
Pretty much being whenever the owner of my restaurant vaguely threatened me into doing them so the restaurant got more buzz.
Not that it needed it.
Our reservation list was booked two years in advance. No amount of social cachet or fame could help you jump that list.
Kane’s eyes were still on me. I could feel them. It was a surprise I wasn’t just melting to a puddle at his feet.
“A chef.” His voice tickled my skin. “I consider it a crime that I haven’t eaten your … food, Avery Hart.”
My body might’ve twitched, had I not had exquisite control over my reflexes.
He’d paused on purpose, to make the not so vague sexual innuendo. If any other man had uttered that sentence, it would’ve come off as sleazy and gross.
With Kane, it was only riveting and charming.
I forced myself to straighten my back, my brain battling against the reaction of my body. Over how easily this stranger had power over it. The lack of control was what snapped me back into my usual façade. I cleared my expression and stared at Kane, forcing myself to ignore the heat in his eyes.