Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Rowan might be an expert when it comes to selecting the perfect looks for his celebrity clients, but his love life is as much a disaster as his desk. He needs Shae to organize his schedule but keeps him at arm’s length regarding anything personal. When the cracks begin to show and Shae sees the generous, vulnerable man beneath the arrogant, sarcastic exterior, it makes him beyond curious to know more.
When a fake kiss leads to even hotter encounters, they have trouble keeping their relationship strictly professional. Shae sees just how gentle the man can be and feels cared for when it’s only the two of them. But Rowan’s defenses are hard to break, and he makes his boundaries more than clear. When Shae finally has enough and needs to protect his own heart—and his sanity—will Rowan finally see what’s been right in front of him all along?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
I stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor of the WKTV building, and security pointed me down a long hallway. The carpet and walls looked a bit dated despite the flashy lobby and iconic sign out front of the Midtown Manhattan location. This building had history, and I tried to temper my nerves as I basked in this opportunity.
“Mr. Abernathy?” I lightly rapped my knuckles on the open door.
“That makes me sound too much like my father.” He waved his hand without looking up from his laptop. “Rowan works just fine.”
I’d been told he was the son of the famous designer with the same last name. Not that I knew anything about fashion, but I’d done my research, and the internet did not do this man justice. He was by far one of the most beautiful men I’d ever laid eyes on, with his pouty lips and perfectly arranged sun-kissed hair and strong shoulders that fit his bold presence, even in a seated position.
“And who are you?” When our eyes met, I blinked at him. Rowan had made his name as a top wardrobe stylist in the business, and for some reason, he was suddenly in need of an assistant on short notice.
“I’m here from the temp agency?” My voice was sort of squeaky. “My name is Shae Shanahan.”
“Well, that’s a mouthful.” He impatiently waved me in again, then looked me up and down, apparently assessing the outfit I’d carefully chosen that morning. When he wrinkled his nose, I deflated.
I didn’t have any fancy clothes, so I’d picked through clearance pieces at the department store. It was the middle of September and sweltering hot, so I could’ve done without the extra layers, but my roommate, Casey, had insisted that a casual suit would work better than the khakis and polo shirt I’d worn for corporate-leaning temp jobs. The polyester suit jacket I’d settled on seemed too shiny now—or was it my choice of a paisley shirt that was bothering my prospective employer? Though the jacket pretty much hid it.
But maybe Rowan, the fashionista, hadn’t looked in the mirror that morning because I was pretty sure his patterned shirt did not go with his plaid pants. Or maybe it did. What the hell did I know?
“Do you have any experience in the design industry?”
I had been in the city for all of a year and had worked plenty of temp jobs by now, but mainly as a receptionist and data-entry clerk.
“I’ve assisted in a few different offices in Midtown and on Wall Street,” I replied, trying to make it sound enticing while keeping it vague.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He shut his eyes and mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like fuck my life. “I assume you’re good with organization?”
“I am.” I stood straighter because if I had anything going for me, it was that. I knew how to categorize files and create Excel spreadsheets with the best of them.
He stood and went to store something in a cabinet across the room, and for the first time, I noted how tall and lean he was. But not thin, exactly. Statuesque.
“And you wouldn’t balk at any small tasks to help move the day along?”
Good God, what in the hell had he asked of his assistants in the past?
“Depends. Do you have one of those bougie dogs who needs frequent potty breaks?” I spewed. “Pretty sure if I had to use a plastic bag to pick up their mess, it would stimulate my gag reflex.”
I clamped my mouth shut, red lining my cheeks. Sometimes I talked way too much when I was nervous or intimidated. And Rowan was definitely intimidating.
I noted the quirk of a smile before he replied in a droll voice, “Well, now I’ve never wanted to get a dog more.”
The dry humor was interesting and lightened the tension. Unless he wasn’t kidding. No way to tell just yet.
“So I can assume you don’t have a dog stashed around here somewhere?”
He folded his arms. “Maybe that should be my first task for you. What breed do you despise most?”
“Those little fluffy mop dogs people carry around in their bags. What’s that all about anyway?”
“That sounds like my ex’s dog, so I agree with you.” His ex. And now I wondered if that was the man I saw him with in my internet search. They made quite the pair with their trendy clothes and runway poses.
I relaxed but not enough to let down my guard. His was no doubt the sort of personality who would keep you on your toes. Hopefully, he wasn’t the type to torment his assistants because, in that regard, I had just thrown myself under the bus. Not that I had the job yet.
But I did want to prove this man wrong.
“What exactly does this job entail?” I asked because I had that right and now I was more than curious. The temp agency had only provided the bare minimum, saying I fit the lowest modicum of qualifications.