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)
I have no fucking idea why I added the bit about being single. It’s obvious I am. She is too, and apparently weighing her options in that regard since she’s on her way to a date.
Her gaze drops to the elegant pearl-encrusted watch on her wrist. “An asparagus fern is waiting for me.”
It takes me a second to process that. “Who is waiting for you?”
“One of Mr. Thorsen’s clients.” She shakes her head. “One of Rook’s clients. She has a passion for plants. Whenever I drop in to see her, I get a lesson in how to nurture my non-existent green thumb.”
Relief grips me harder than it should at the knowledge that she’s not rushing to see a guy.
“I need to go.” She points toward the lobby doors. “She’s expecting me for tea in ten minutes. I have some documents for her to look over.”
I catch sight of the corner of a manila envelope peeking out from the leather tote bag in her hand.
“I won’t keep you.” I step aside.
“I’ll talk to you soon?” she asks as she brushes past me.
I can’t resist the temptation to reach out to touch her wrist. I skim a fingertip across it. “You can talk to me all you want over dinner tonight.”
That stops her in place. Her gaze locks on mine. “I can do that, but nothing fancy, okay? Can we grab a burger or something? Keep it low-key?”
“Whatever you want.”
“It’s a date.” Her hand jumps to her mouth. “No. I mean, it’s a hangout.”
I grab her wrist this time, firmly, so she can’t escape my grasp. “It’s a date, Abigail.”
That sends a smile coasting over her lips. “It’s a date. I’ll meet you here at eight?”
“Right here?” I point to the floor.
“Yes,” she whispers as she tugs her arm free. “Be in this spot at eight. I’ll be here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Abby
This is the first time I’ve seen Declan Wells wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, and I kind of want to stop and stare.
I fully expected to find him in the lobby still dressed in the tailored suit he had on earlier, but it’s obvious when he agreed that our date should be low-key that he went all in on that.
He may be wearing expensive shoes on his feet, but the rest of him looks like any laidback guy in Manhattan out running errands.
I take one last glance at my watch as I hurry through the lobby toward where Declan is standing. I just left my office to rush down here. I got caught up talking to Helena about the approach we’ll take when it comes to the Llura deal.
She was nothing but supportive and only had a couple of suggestions to add to my ideas.
I’ve always enjoyed working with her in the past, and I know that her guidance through this assignment will help me immensely.
“Declan!” I call out to drag his attention away from the phone in his hand.
His head pops up immediately, and one of his signature smiles coasts over his lips. “Abigail.”
I can’t tell if he volleys between my name and nickname because of our newly formed business relationship or if his mood dictates when he refers to me as Abby or Abigail. Either way, I like the sound of both coming from him.
I swear he has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.
I glance at my skirt and blouse. “I didn’t have a chance to run home to change.”
His gaze follows the same path mine just did. “You look stunning.”
I look like I’ve been up for fourteen hours and put in a full twelve at work. I feel the same way, but I’ve been looking forward to having dinner with him since he asked me.
“Thank you.” I smile because I’ll never turn down a compliment.
“I changed out of the suit because I was at home preparing things.”
There’s a question begging to be asked, so I take the reins and do just that. “Preparing what things?”
“Dinner.”
That surprises me enough that I let out a sigh. “I thought we agreed to grab a burger.”
“Grab. Eat. It’s the end result that matters, right?” His eyes catch mine. “I’m going to cook you the best burger you ever had.”
I can’t hold in a smile. “You’re going to cook for me?”
He nods. “I am.”
“Are you a good cook?”
That draws a hearty laugh from him. “I’m an excellent cook.”
“Do you know how to make fries?”
“Like a chef.” He tilts his chin up. “I know what it’s like to put in a long day at the office. Sometimes, all a person wants is to kick off their shoes, sit their ass down, and eat a juicy burger without worrying about whether it’ll be cooked to perfection.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I admit.
“You’re right,” he says with a grin. “You can’t.”
“Rygar will drive us.” He motions toward the lobby doors. “If you’re game, we can go right now.”