Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“Do you think it will help our appeal with the broader customer base?” I ask. Our designs are for men, and for the longest time our market was queer men. We’ve altered our marketing targets over the last few years as more women have bought sexy underwear for their straight partners. We want to continue moving in that direction. It’s about time men of all orientations adopted something sexier than tighty-whities or boring boxer briefs.
Matthew nods crisply at the head of the conference table, gesturing to the slide with his projected numbers. “All of our research shows there are great opportunities in targeting couples. And as men open their minds to a new look in underwear, we want to reach those who buy for themselves as well as the people who buy for them.”
I think about Marlow saying my designs are her boyfriend’s favorites, and I nod. “That’s a wise direction,” I say.
“This campaign will implement several new tactics to make sure we’re reaching consumers in all the places where they live,” he says.
It’s a good plan, so I sign off on it. Then, since the day is winding down, I say goodbye to Matthew and Theresa, and return to my office where I take off my suit, hanging it on the hook behind the door.
I change into the running clothes and trainers I keep at work. Moments later I’m out the door, heading down the elevator.
As I exit onto Market Street, I check my phone for a text. Again.
Nothing.
I don’t even know if he’ll text me. He might call. He might just show up on my doorstep and say yes to my offer.
Or say no.
I’m not used to this kind of waiting. All I can do is distract myself.
Putting one foot in front of the other, I pick up the pace until my light jog turns into a run. I meet Christine as planned at the Ferry Building, and we take off, flying along the bay.
My trainers slap the pavement as Christine pulls ahead. “Catch me if you can,” she taunts. “But we both know you can’t.”
“Those are fighting words,” I shout, all my competitive spirit telling me to catch up.
But an uncharacteristic early evening fog wraps around us as we run, and my mind hovers between here and New York.
I’m not used to being this obsessed with a person. I’d forgotten what it was like to want someone this intensely.
This passionately.
Is this how I felt for Lucas?
Not even remotely close. You asked him to marry you. This is just sex.
I grit my teeth, swat the comparison from my mind, and pump up the pace.
Gunnar is simply a man my body craves. That is all. This obsession is only physical. I refuse to let it be more.
I move faster, run harder, and catch up to Christine. We race the last half mile, breathing fast, strides lengthening, two ferocious cheetahs trying to best the other. Then Christine pulls ahead on the final stretch of pavement outside the Ferry Building, finishing mere feet ahead of me.
“Nice try,” she taunts.
I laugh. “You always win.”
She paces to cool down and nudges me with her elbow. “Does this mean you’re still off in la-la land, thinking of your new man?”
I groan and roll my eyes. “How do you know me so well?”
“It’s my special skill. So, what’s the latest? Has he got your heart all twisted up?”
I shake my head. “This one can’t possibly involve my heart.”
“Good.” She nods decisively. “But how is it going?”
I wish I knew. “I haven’t heard from him.” I try to sound offhand but I’m not sure it comes out that way.
“When did you last connect with him?” she asks.
“Last night.”
She laughs lightly. “That’s not so long ago.”
“Exactly.” I shake my head in frustration with myself. “It’s too soon to want to hear from him so badly.”
She smiles sympathetically. “It not too soon if you like him.”
“That’s the rub,” I say with a resigned sigh. “I don’t want to like him, Christine. I don’t want to develop feelings.”
She squeezes my arm. “I know, love. But have you considered that you already have?”
I scoff. “It’s been less than two weeks. I’m only out of sorts because I haven’t heard from him, so he has the upper hand right now. I don’t like giving up control. I made him an offer for sex. I’m simply waiting for his yes.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a romantic.”
I laugh. “See? I told you I won’t develop feelings.”
Her eyes spark. “Ah, but you said you don’t want to develop them, not that you won’t.”
“You should have been an attorney,” I grumble.
She reassures me with a pat on my shoulder. “Relax. This impatience? The feeling of wanting him? You just want to win him.”
I laugh. Perhaps she’s right, and I simply want a yes. If he agreed, I would make every single second of those thirty nights worth his while.