Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I pout. “Oh. Okay.”
I follow him out to the car, where, like a true gentleman, he opens the car door for me. He even puts the seatbelt on for me too, as if I couldn’t do that myself. I don’t mind it, because as he leans over, I get to inhale his yummy aftershave and let his stubble tickle my face. Once it’s clipped in, he gives me a chaste kiss on the lips.
When he takes off, headed for Portland, I say, “I’m thinking we’re not going to Periwinkle.”
He chuckles. “No way in hell.”
“Good choice. Fore Street?”
He shakes his head.
“Street & Company? Scales?”
“Nope.”
I wrack my brain, thinking of the many better restaurants I’ve taken clients to in the downtown area. “Please tell me you’re not taking me to that place with the oysters.”
He gives me a look. “They are an aphrodisiac.”
“I don’t think we need any help where that is concerned.”
He laughs and snakes a hand over the center console, setting it on my thigh. “No, we do not. But, my curious one, you’re just going to have to sit your little ass tight and wait until we get there.”
I pout again.
If it has any effect on him, he doesn’t show it. He adeptly changes the subject. “You spoke to Lisa this morning, I saw. How did that go?”
I can’t fight the ear-to-ear smile that spreads over my face. “She told me they’re giving me the promotion. They’re not going to announce it yet, but… yeah. But…” I look over at him. “It doesn’t feel fair. We should’ve fought each other to the death.”
“Oh, yeah? I told you, though. You deserved it, fair and square.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. Did you talk to any of the partners? They must’ve wondered why you were backing out?”
He nods but doesn’t say any more.
“Well? What did they say?” I goad.
He shrugs. “Guess they wanted us to fight to the death, too. But I’m glad we’re not,” he says, his fingers making lazy circles on my thigh, flirting with the hem of my dress. “I’m a pacifist. Make love, not war.”
I snort. “Right.”
I get the feeling there’s something he’s not telling me. Lisa was happy for me when she told me the good news, but there’s no question she was pulling for Brooks. And maybe the other partners were too. They had to be shocked when he pulled out. Maybe they even tried to convince him to reconsider.
Then I look out and realize he’s exited 295 before reaching the Portland city limits, and is now heading east toward the coast. When he pulls down a dark, wooded road that is little more than two tire ruts in the ground, I wonder what he’s really up to.
“So… did you let me have the promotion because you expected to drive me out into a remote place and push me off a cliff?” I wonder aloud, looking out the window and seeing nothing but darkness.
“There’s a thought.”
I punch him, just as the trees part, and the moonlight catches the glimmering ocean below. We must be up pretty high, because it feels like the sea is all around us. He brakes and I catch a look at his face. He’s smiling, leaning over the wheel and gazing at the gorgeous seascape. “I wanted to bring you out here. Not to kill you. I thought we could have a picnic.”
A picnic? I stare at him in shock. That’s the sort of thing from romance movies and novels. Do guys really do things like that? The Brooks Gentry I thought I knew never would have. But this one?
Yes. I guess he would. “Did you bring strawberries?”
“Why? You like them?”
I nod. “Love them.”
“With whipped cream?”
“Yes!”
He frowns. “They’re an aphrodisiac, though. And this is a proper date.”
“Oh.” So that’s a no. “So what did you bring for this picnic, then? Finger sandwiches and tea?”
He pulls off his seatbelt and opens the door, then turns to wag a finger at me. “You’re just going to have to wait.”
He goes around back and opens the trunk, and then he opens my door and helps me out. He’s holding a little wicker basket. I don’t know many men who have a wicker basket like that on hand, so I’d like to think he bought it just for me. “Look at you, boy scout.”
We walk along a wooded path to a stone outcropping, overlooking the mirror-calm ocean. The sun has long-set behind us, but the lights from ships passing on the horizon, and from the busy Portland harbor in the distance, provide a light show as beautiful as any sunset or fireworks display. It’s a little chilly, so when he sets out the blanket and opens us each a beer, Brooks wraps an arm around me and we just sit there, snuggling and taking in the view.