Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Jo was a self-acknowledged workaholic. Everyone knew it, but no one ever did anything about it. No one except Cam had ever canceled her appointments, taken her roller-skating and peach picking. Made her slow down. She’d lived her whole life in luxury, but it had taken a hot meal and a waiting bath every night to spoil her.
God, she missed him.
And to be clear, men did not have the market cornered on wet dreams. Jo woke up sweating, clenching her thighs and sopping wet between her legs every night. Now that she’d had the real thing, no amount of knitting or running appeased that sex-starved wildcat she collared to go out in public among decent people. Behind closed doors, she missed him pushing so deeply inside her it smudged the hard lines between ecstasy and pain. She craved his tongue in her mouth. His mouth between her legs. His hand slapping her bare ass.
Shit.
Jo dropped her head into shaky hands, pushing the application aside. Tears crept from the corners of her eyes. A tiny liquid path of pain leaked from her nose.
“Jo, can I help?”
She had forgotten Peter stood there waiting to hear her lunch plans.
“Um, no.” Jo covered her face, sneaking a quick swipe over her face before raising her eyes to face Peter. “I’m fine.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Peter’s kind blue eyes darkened. Concern, irritation, jealousy. Jo wasn’t sure what made them that stormy hue, but she couldn’t care enough to deny it. She was so tired of pretending to be okay.
“It’s always him, Peter.” She pushed a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Please don’t forget that.”
Ever since Dubai, Peter had been pressing her. Under the guise of work, he’d asked her to dinner. He’d started lingering in her office again. Fabricating excuses to drop by the house. As much as she hated to admit it, Walsh had been right. Taking Peter to Dubai had not made things better. In some ways, it had made things worse because her actions must have given him hope. Jo knew firsthand what a flighty bitch hope was.
“I know he’s attractive.” Peter twisted his mouth in a way that said, If you like that type.
Which Jo did. Very much.
“But he’s not worth this, Jo. Losing weight. Being depressed.”
“I’m not depressed. I miss my boyfriend, Peter.”
“But where is he? He doesn’t even care enough to call you. To let you know where he is.” Peter came around the desk to tower over her. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You have no idea what is going on with us. I appreciate your concern, but Cam is working a few things out that will only make us better and stronger as a couple. I trust him to do that and come back to me.”
Peter opened his mouth, obviously armed and ready with more denigration for the man Jo unequivocally loved.
“Let’s grab that lunch, okay?” Jo stood, pushing the sleeves of her mocha-colored cashmere sweater up her arms. The black leather leggings sculpted the muscles of her legs and butt. She hadn’t meant to dress provocatively, but Peter’s hungry eyes wandered over her curves like she was the meal he needed.
“I think I’ll just grab a sandwich at the cafeteria.” Jo picked up her clutch and headed for the door. “You coming?”
Or will you stand around all day gaping at my ass? Jo had inhabited this body long enough to feel comfortable with the way men responded to it. She had just never cared about any man’s lust but Cam’s.
You wore a bright red bikini with pink daisies.
He’d remembered.
Suck. It. Up, Joanne Elizabeth Walsh. She could almost hear Aunt Kris’s voice telling her that. Calling her by her full name when Jo indulged in self-pity. Aunt Kris had always known when to push and when to pull. And when to just leave Jo be and let her figure things out for herself. Jo’s compass was spinning. All her natural instincts told her to track Cam down. To follow him. To rescue him. But that sixth sense she had gotten only from Aunt Kris told her to give him the space he requested. And to trust his love for her.
“So what did you think of that last app?” Peter grabbed a tray and passed one to Jo.
“I wasn’t impressed.” Jo grinned at the hair-netted lady who always had a smile for everyone passing through the line. “Grilled chicken salad.”
“You need some potatoes, too.” The older woman ran sharp eyes over Jo’s slim curves. “You’re wasting away.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.” Peter collected silverware for them both.
“The salad will do for now.” Though a perfectly grilled steak with crisp veggies would be better, especially if her man had it waiting for her when she got home.
“Hey, if we sit here, I can see the TV.” Peter gestured toward the mounted flat screen. “See the scores I missed. This okay?”