Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
He smiles and a gold tooth winks from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. The beautiful redhead. Who else?”
Said redheaded contestant seems determined to appear nonchalant, but her fingers are trembling slightly.
“So far we have a two-way tie,” the host says, sidling up next to me and putting the microphone under my nose. “Ms. Beverley…would you care to break it for us?”
“I, um…” My pulse tickles the inside so of my veins and I shift side to side under the power of Desmond’s stare. His cake was the best one—hands down—so I’m not lying when I say, “Desmond gets my vote.”
With a victory yell, the fireman throws his chef’s hat up in the air and catches it. Behind him in the audience, his sister’s jeer at his back, but he only chuckles in response.
When my cheeks start to protest, I realize I’m smiling like a dodo bird.
Meanwhile the host is visibly panicked. “Uh…well, this is unprecedented.” He laughs nervously. “I mean, of course it is. This is the first episode…” He clears his throat. “Might be the last, too, since we were clearly unprepared for his outcome! I hereby declare a three-way tie!”
The audience delivers the slowest clap in history and as soon as the cameras go dark, I’m being ushered backstage by two girls in headsets. They’re rushing through an explanation of the forms I need to sign and a post-filming interview I need to conduct. But I’m more interested in the firefighter whose gaze I can feel drilling into my back. I look back over my shoulder and find Desmond staring after me. He takes a step in my direction, as if he’s going to chase me down, but before he can advance, his sisters step into his path and block him.
Disappointment makes my shoulders slump.
I guess that’s that. I’ll never see him again.
Little do I know how wrong that assumption is…
3
Desmond
She’s not getting away from me that easily.
My sisters must have sensed my interest in Quinn because they thwarted my mission to get the restaurant critic’s phone number. And if I’m being completely honest, getting her number seems pretty damn mild compared to what I really want from this woman. I’ve had a boulder in my stomach since seeing her up close and personal during the judging round. She’s done something to me. I can’t blink without seeing her face.
I walk through the backstage area, stepping over wires and winding around equipment. One of the producers told me I’d find her in the green room, but when I opened that door, I found the redhead contestant making out with the hockey player. My classy girl was nowhere to be seen and I’m starting to panic.
Come on, Quinn. Where are you?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small figure bypass a snoring cameraman and duck out the back door. I don’t see the person’s face, but the elegant way they move tells me it’s Quinn and I stride in that direction, determined to reach her before vanishes into the wilds of Manhattan.
I catch the backstage door before it closes, my long legs making it easy to catch up with her on the sidewalk. She sucks in a breath and halts, blinking up at me—and fuck me, she’s so beautiful, I forget what year it is. A moment later, I manage to recover. “Ah come on, you didn’t think I’d just let you leave, right?”
Her pretty lips open and close, her hand tightening around the strap of her purse. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Wow. Really? I couldn’t have been more obvious about my interest in her without drooling all over my workstation. My dick is solid as a rock right now. I had to untuck my T-shirt so I won’t get arrested for public indecency. Is it possible Quinn doesn’t know how goddamn gorgeous and sweet she is? How does she make it through life without every person she meets telling her? Maybe I should take this slow, so she doesn’t bug out. If she didn’t even notice my attraction to her, she might call 911 if I explain how badly I need her in my bed.
“Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “It would be rude not to thank you for voting for me. Can I buy you some gratitude coffee?”
Her smile heats my blood. “Gratitude coffee?”
“It’s the best kind.” I step toward Quinn, wanting to brush a stray hair out of her face, but my sudden closeness steals her smile and she looks like she’s going to hyperventilate. Yeah, I definitely need to take this slow. I’ve even more positive now that she’s as innocent as she looks. She’s worth all the time in the world, though, so I’m going to go as slowly as she needs. “Are you a coffee critic, too, or does the closest Starbucks work for you?”