Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I hurried to scribble down the notes, but smiled up at him. “That is a pretty amazing goal,” I said. “I doubt you’ll have any trouble achieving it.”
“You’d be surprised,” Asher said. “Having money doesn’t mean I always get approval for my projects, as you saw today.”
“Was that why that older suit was questioning you? About taking this line recreational?”
He grinned again. “Older suit?” He shook his head. “Do you call me something similar in your notes?” He nodded toward my tablet.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “No, definitely not older suit.”
“Then what?”
Back muscles for days.
“Asher,” I said. “I just call you Asher.”
He tipped his chin up, clearly not buying it, but letting it slide. “Do you—” His phone rang, cutting off whatever he was about to say. “Apologies,” he said. “I have to take this.”
I waved him off. “You do you,” I said.
He pushed away from the table, taking the call behind his desk while bringing up files on his computer. Something about stocks or the market that I totally tuned out two seconds in. I focused on my plot book, making sure to note the fantastic food that came with this particular billionaire and matching that with his apparently totally golden heart. I mean, what billionaire concerns himself with the general public?
Asher freaking Silas, that’s who. And did he have to be so damn gorgeous while he played Robin Hood? I couldn’t help but keep checking myself all day, telling my body to stop reacting to every innocent move he made—a finger over his lips, a tongue swiping up a drop of iced tea, those strong hands splayed over the boardroom table, his eyes like fire as he dared anyone to challenge him.
I blew out a breath, shifting in my seat as I kept writing. I supposed it wasn’t totally ridiculous of me to be attracted to him—he was funny, smart, and smelled so damn good, like some concoction of pine and leather. And, I was writing a romance novel based on a character just like him, so naturally I’d think about sex. I had at least six sex scenes to write, maybe seven, and I was about to come up to the first kiss scene too. That’s the only reason it was flooding my mind every time I got a whiff of Asher as he walked by or when he laughed so genuinely it was almost like he was never caught off guard and liked it.
“Daisy?” Asher said my name like he’d said it a few times, and I looked up from my tablet. “You ready?”
I pushed away from the table, nodding. “What’s next on the schedule?”
“I have a few Reaper-focused meetings now until it’s time to go home.”
I raised my brow, tucking my tablet under my arm. “You have every hour of the day planned out,” I said, and he shrugged. “So, then when do you have time to screw your secretary on your desk?”
Asher’s jaw dropped.
3
ASHER
“When do I have time to do what?” My jaw fucking dropped. Did she just imply that I… There was no way. No. Fucking. Way. “You realize my secretary is a happily married sixty-two-year-old woman who would kick me in the face if she even thought I was looking at her sexually, right?” I blanched.
“Right, but if she wasn’t?” Daisy tilted her head at me. Today she’d chosen a fifties-style dress with cherries cupping every curve. The fact that I’d noticed told me two things. First, she was a distraction in the worst possible way, and second, I apparently needed to get laid.
“If she wasn’t what? Which part? Married? Or sixty-two?” I asked, standing from behind my desk.
“Which part is more of a barrier to you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Oh, wait!” Spinning on another pair of retro heels, she grabbed her tablet, then turned back to me. “Okay, now answer.”
“Definitely the married part.” I shook my head at her, which is all I seemed to do over the last twenty-four hours. The woman was nothing like I’d expected when Fiona had asked me to let her shadow me…not that I was sure exactly what I’d expected. “Though I do prefer to date in my own age demographic since I eventually want children.” Was I seriously explaining my preferences over here?
“But if she wasn’t married,” Daisy mused, tapping her pen against a plump lip thoughtfully. “And she was…you know…in your age demographic. When would be the perfect time for you to sweep your desk clear and have mad, passionate sex with your secretary?”
My mouth opened, then shut, then repeated.
“Because…” She scrolled her finger down her tablet, scanning her notes. “I’m not seeing any time in your schedule for spontaneous activity, which might prove to be an issue in my plot.” She added that last part like she hadn’t meant for me to hear, like she was already absorbed in whatever world she was creating in her notes.