Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Just as I was leaving my apartment, my boss called and asked me to swing by the home of one of our clients to pick something up. That quick errand turned into more than an hour of watching her water the dozens of plants on her terrace.
The entire time I was shouldering a large leather tote with only two things inside of it. The left and right sneakers that belong to the man I spent Saturday night with.
A knock at the door startles me enough that I let out a small yelp.
Shit.
“Abby?” A deep voice comes at me from behind the closed door. “Everything okay?”
Everything is not okay. My boss, Rook Thorsen, is just a few inches away from me, with only a piece of thin wood separating us.
I know exactly why he’s looking for me. He wants to know if I grabbed the document from the plant-loving client this morning. Since Mrs. Collymore doesn’t own a computer or a smartphone, all our correspondence with her is handled via the landline in her apartment and private messenger. Over the course of the last month, I’ve taken on the role of the messenger since her penthouse is a block from the subway stop I exit on my way to the office each day.
“I’m good!” I call out. “I just twisted my ankle.”
Why in the hell would I say that?
“I’ll grab some ice and be right back,” Mr. Thorsen says because he’s that kind of guy.
I wouldn’t label him as particularly thoughtful, but he has a brilliant legal mind, and if I know him, he’s concerned that I’ll sue him for tripping over the corner of the rug on my office floor.
“Thank you, sir!” I call out as I hear his footsteps as he takes off toward the break room.
I use the brief reprieve to head to my desk to hide the tote. It holds the tangible evidence of my one-night stand. I may not be guilty of anything but having a few intense orgasms, but I’d prefer not to drag my personal life into the workplace.
That’s a line I don’t want to cross.
I pick up the tote and tuck it under my desk before I test out a weak limp to go with my fake excuse for yelping when he knocked.
As if on cue, there’s another knock.
That man is damn fast when he’s on a mission to avoid a lawsuit.
“Come in, Mr. Thorsen.”
My door swings open, but it’s not my boss standing there. It’s Carrie.
“Hey!” She lifts a hand in the air, narrowly missing my chin.
I grab her raised wrist and tug her into my office, slamming the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“Let’s try that again.” She skims a hand over the skirt of her light blue dress. “Hi, dear sister of mine. What brings your smiling face to my office today?”
I adjust the arms of her eyeglasses to straighten them. “Yes, sure. What you just said.”
She looks me over, taking in the red pants and white blouse I’m wearing. “Are you okay?”
Another knock at my office door sends me toward it with an uneven limp.
“What’s wrong with your foot?” Carrie asks just as I swing open the door.
“Ice.” Mr. Thorsen holds up an ice pack. “Sit. Elevate. Ice.”
“Ice?” Carrie glances at me before her gaze settles on my boss’s face.
She’ll never admit it, but I know she has a crush on Mr. Thorsen. She’s commented on his picture on the firm’s website more than once. Today is the first time she’s come face-to-face with the man himself.
Or, more accurately, face-to-chest since Carrie is five foot two and Mr. Thorsen is hovering around the six foot three mark.
For a split second, I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of a romance movie where the main characters lock eyes, and something silently passes between them.
Carrie clears her throat. “I’m Carrie Gilbert.”
Damn. I didn’t think my stepsister had it in her to make the first move, but her extended hand proves she’s been hiding some courage inside.
Rook takes her hand in his. It disappears when he curls his fingers around it. “Rook Thorsen. It’s a pleasure, Ms. Gilbert.”
“Carrie,” she whispers as she remains spellbound by his gaze. “I’m Abby’s stepsister.”
His eyes fall to the lanyard around her neck and the employee badge hanging from it. “You’re a chemist?”
Her fingers trail over the front of the badge. “Yes. I work at Matiz Cosmetics in their…”
“Let me guess.” He smiles. “Their fragrance department. You’re wearing one of your signature scents, aren’t you?”
Huh? What is happening right now?
Carrie nods. “I am. What do you think?”
She offers her hand again, but this time, Mr. Thorsen wraps his fingers around her wrist and brings it to his nose. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes briefly.
Carrie glances at me with raised brows and silently mouths, “Wow!”