Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I’m stunned, to say the least. I click it, expecting to read a droll paragraph filled with bullet points where he reiterates for the umpteenth time that he is definitely not, under no circumstances, giving me an interview, just in case I got things twisted last night. No big deal. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with in the last three days. Instead, I find absolutely nothing in the body of the email, just an attachment at the bottom. I download the Word document and open it, with my thumbnail between my teeth and my stomach in knots. There are paragraphs upon paragraphs, answers to questions that he’s organized himself. I’m shocked beyond belief to see that he’s taken the time to do this—the one thing he said he’d never do.
He’s given me an interview, of sorts.
Why?
Because of last night?
I’m relieved to have it. Of course I am. My career hinges on this interview, and now that he’s given me these answers, that’s one less thing on my to-do list. However—and this is a big however—there’s also a large part of me that’s annoyed this email was sent on the heels of our one-night stand. Whether he intended to or not, he’s tainted last night. Does he think I expected this? That deep down, I was in his suite on the off chance something like this could happen? I wasn’t. I’m not all that cunning. Need I remind anyone of my very bad middle school quiz-bowl sabotage plan that involved a pair of safety scissors?
I don’t have what it takes for seduction on that scale. I barely had what it took for the one-night stand, and I thought I pulled it off pretty beautifully. I mean, we really went for it. That session by the couch, another in the shower, god . . . when he took me on his bed, I saw stars. I left rather than sleep beside him because it just felt right. Easier that way. I got to wake up in my own bed; there was no bumbling or confusion, no send-offs that would have made it all seem boring and awkward.
This changes everything.
All that fluff? It’s lumpy and deflated now.
I don’t scurry off to Sienna’s room with news of last night. I make a single cup of coffee and take it to my desk so I can get to work. I haven’t even looked outside, but I know we’re in Turks and Caicos now after cruising all day yesterday. I want to be outside, enjoying paradise, but instead, I’m stuck at my desk for the better part of the morning while I rework Phillip’s answers into something that resembles a proper sit-down interview. In the end, he’s given me nearly three thousand words. By my count, that’s three thousand more words than anyone else has about him.
I email Gwen an in-depth outline and barely manage to push back from the desk when I hear a knock at my door.
“Yoo-hoo! That’s enough work in there. Come on now, we’re about to go out on a hike, and I’m not going by myself.”
I laugh as I walk over to fling open the door.
Sienna’s dressed and ready to go, looking like Hiker Barbie. She has her hair pulled back in two French braids, a subtle bit of makeup. She’s wearing a coordinating set of yoga pants and a tank top, as well as a little backpack filled with water and snacks.
“And plasters; well, you call them Band-Aids,” she tells me proudly. “In case these boots give me a blister. I meant to break them in, but where the hell am I going to go on a hike in the middle of London? Anyway, come on, get dressed; you can’t stay cooped up in here all day, even under the guise of work.”
“I really was working.” I toss the words over my shoulder as I walk into my bedroom to get dressed. I brought plenty of workout clothes with me, so I rifle through them in the closet until I find a pale-blue tank top, sports bra, and running shorts.
“Oh yes?” she calls from the other room. “And what about in the middle of the night when I heard you banging around in the hallway, trying to find your key card? Were you working then too?”
I yank my pajama top off over my head. “I didn’t think I was being that loud.”
“A herd of wildebeests would have been quieter! So tell me, where were you?”
“Can’t say!” I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth and apply some tinted sunscreen and ChapStick.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling coy. Though I haven’t known her long, I know in my gut that I can trust Sienna. It’s not about that. I just feel suddenly protective about my night with Phillip. Putting words to those feelings will only decay the fragile magic at play.