Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
We’d been thorough. Especially because the man could potentially have so much access to Miranda, given his position.
But we couldn’t find anything.
Frank was a beloved doorman for many years.
And his wife had been a homemaker until their kids were in middle school. At which time she started to work at a small bakery to fill her time.
Nothing at all to raise a red flag about.
“Yes. The wife and the doorman. And when that came up clean, we stopped digging.”
“What else is there to dig for?”
“The daughter,” Tig said, making me whip around to look through the glass at Miranda.
“Talk to me,” I demanded.
“The daughter, Taylor, worked for Miranda’s company for two years.”
“Worked. Past tense.”
“She was fired,” he said. “It doesn’t say in the notes for what, but I figure you can find out that information.”
“Why didn’t we notice this when we were going over employee records?”
“Because she’d gotten married, then divorced, but she kept her married name.”
“Send me what you have. I’ll ask Miranda what she knows.”
“Will do,” Tig said, ending the call.
“What’s going on?” Miranda asked as soon as I moved back into her place, turning to lock the sliding door before facing her.
“We have a potential lead,” I told her.
“A real lead? Or a suspicious envelope with a sweet invitation in it sort of lead?” she asked, waving toward the card on the table.
“A possible real lead,” I clarified. “About your doorman, actually.”
“I thought that was a dead-end.”
“It was. Until we figured out that his daughter had once worked for you. And she was fired.”
“Oh,” Miranda said, exhaling hard.
“Hey, let’s not, okay?” I said, reaching out to snag her chin, drawing it up until she was forced to face me.
“Let’s not what?” she asked.
“Think about it tonight,” I suggested. “Why ruin a good night with information that will be just as relevant in the morning as it is right now?”
“You know… I don’t hate that logic,” she admitted, giving me a soft smile.
“You know what sounds better than worrying about shit we don’t need to be worrying about?”
“What?” she asked, likely thinking I was about to suggest coffee or dessert.
“A nice soak in a hot tub,” I told her.
“You… you want to take a bath.”
“Not particularly, no. I want you to take a bath. And I want to be as close to you when you’re naked as possible,” I clarified.
I expected her to brush me off.
So I was surprised when she reached out to take my hand… then started to walk down the hallway toward her bedroom, through it, and into the bath.
“Turn on the water,” she demanded as she reached up to unclasp her earrings.
I didn’t even hesitate.
I stopped the tub and ran the water, even poured some of the bombs and salts that were lying around into it, then sat my ass down on the edge of it, watching as she moved toward me, then turned her back on me.
“Zipper,” she demanded, making me reach up to undo it. Did I go ahead and run my finger down her exposed spine? Yes, of course I did.
But then she was walking away from me.
And I got to watch as she slid the dress down, shimmying it over her hips, then down her thighs until it finally puddled around her feet.
Leaving her completely naked save for the band of her strapless bra.
Not for long, though, because her arms curled backward to unfasten the hooks, and soon that was on the ground as well.
It was then that I saw it.
The tattoo she’d alluded to once before.
On her ‘lower hip.’
It was her ass.
A cute little flower.
Likely something she got as soon as she was legal to do so, just so she could feel more like the adult she was.
All thoughts of the tattoo flew out of my mind right then, though.
Because she turned to face me in all her glorious nakedness.
“Fuck,” I hissed as she walked toward me slowly, letting me take in every curve before she stood before me.
“Beautiful,” I told her as my hands moved up her thighs, over her hips, then up the sides of her ribs as I got to my own feet.
But she wasn’t going to let me explore any more than that.
She planted a hand on my shoulder, then lifted a leg to climb into the tub.
I swear she got into the water in slow motion.
“Are you joining me?” she asked, snapping me out of my stupor.
I don’t think I’d ever fumbled as much removing my own clothing as I did right then, somehow managing to knot my bowtie tighter before getting it untied, struggling with my belt much the way she had hours earlier, and even missed one of my buttons, so when I yanked off my shirt, it popped off and went flying.
I felt like I couldn’t even think straight as she sat there, looking up at me with a face flushed from the hot water, her breasts exposed over the top of the water that was still filling the tub.