Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I return his smile, still unable to form actual words. Pathetic, Brooke. Pathetic.
“I also have one quick phone call to make, if that’s okay with you,” he adds, and his full, perfect lips turn down at the corners. “I feel terrible to keep you and Benji waiting any more than you already have, but I’m afraid if I don’t make this call, they won’t keep me around to edit for you, and I’d absolutely hate that.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod, and it feels like my neck doesn’t understand there’s a point where you need to stop nodding before you look like one of those bobblehead toys they give away at baseball games. “That’s…of cour…mm…fine,” I mumble. My tongue trips over itself because apparently I am a toddler learning how to speak for the first time.
For the love of everything, get it together.
I swallow. Clear my throat. And attempt my best impression of a casual woman who hasn’t been having sexual fantasies about the wickedly handsome man standing in front of her. Though, my impression is more of a silent film version, where I don’t say a word but offer a far-too-big smile in his direction.
If Benji were wearing his Batman costume today, I could be his Joker.
“Do you want any coffee? Some tea? Maybe a cookie or two?” He winks. He winks. At me. “If you snack on the good stuff, they let me have some too.”
“U-um, suuu…sure.” I clear my throat again, trying to remind my vocal cords they have thirty-one years of experience at their job and need to start using it. “Coffee would be great.” As would a lobotomy with a rusty knife and no anesthesia at this stage of discomfiture.
Chase chuckles a little, and I panic that I’ve just said the line about the brain removal aloud. I look at Benji, who’s studying me closely, thanks to many rapid changes in my heart rate. Did I just say that out loud?
The backstabbing, adorable bastard in the Thor getup and service dog vest doesn’t answer, instead tilting his head to get another scratch from Chase. That’s it. I’m canceling the Captain America costume order when I get home.
Chase’s assistant gets up with a nod, not even having to be told to carry out my coffee and cookie order directly, and Chase gives Benji one final rub behind his ears and stands up straight.
“I’ll just be one minute,” he promises, his impressive white line of teeth on display, courtesy of his smile.
I nod. A minute is good. A minute gives me time to gather myself out of the pile of goo on the floor and try to remember how to put a motherflipping sentence together.
Chase glances over at me for a moment, and then, even though I didn’t think it was possible, his grin grows. “You look great in purple, Brooke.”
“T-thank you.” Your tongue would look great on my nipples.
His grin turns megawatt, and again, I have a brief moment of panic, wondering if I said the thing I didn’t mean to say. Of course I didn’t say that out loud. Lord knows he wouldn’t be grinning. He’d be, like, running for the hills or something. But holy shit, why can’t I distinguish reality anymore, especially when my thoughts are this demented?
Chase heads into his office behind me, and the glass door to my right falls closed almost painfully slowly.
His voice is distinct, cheerful, and confident as I hear him at the beginning of his call. “Jim, I got your message about the Beranski deal. I have a couple of ideas for strategy if you’re ready…”
His voice fades out as the door finally settles into place, and I let go of the tension I didn’t know I’d rammed into the base of my spine like a rod. I’ve been white-knuckling the armrests of this chair so tightly that my fingerprints are visible in the creamy velvet. My palms are also sweaty, and I discreetly wipe them down the front of the lavender dress Chase said I look good in.
News flash: He said you look good in the color. Not good in the dress.
I want to smack myself across the face but decide that’s not a good look since the office behind me that contains the man who makes me turn into a moony-eyed crazy person is made of a glass door and glass windows. Pretty sure witnessing someone slap themselves is a huge red flag.
Of course, Benji is on his feet now, likely sensing the impending disaster my little emotional breakdown is liable to cause.
Using the breathing techniques I’ve learned over the years, I work vigorously to bring myself back from the brink of unconsciousness, glancing over my shoulder briefly to get another look at Chase’s comforting smile.
Because for as much as he riles me up, he also calms me down, and yes, I am aware I’ve never sounded more insane than I do right now. Thanks for asking.