Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I groan.
Kate tilts her head. “Why are you so resistant? Isn’t this the plan?”
I shove my hand through the sleeve of my jacket with less care than the expensive garment deserves. “I’m not resistant.”
Kate crosses her arms. “Yes, you are. Spill.”
“We’re not talking about this,” I mutter, heading toward the door.
Hell, I don’t even want to think about this. I don’t want to think about the fact that my stomach knotted at the thought of seeing Sabrina, not because of hate, not even because of want, but because after last weekend . . .
I worry I could start to enjoy her. Enjoy us.
To an extent I’ve always enjoyed what we have—the bickering, the sex. Definitely the sex.
But this past weekend, even around the frustration and exhaustion, there was something else there. Potential. Potential that the two of us share something deeper.
Sure, she wants me dead. And there were a handful of times I’d have happily strangled her. But counterintuitively, there was a strange easiness between us, too. Almost as though our mutual wariness of the other person and romantic entanglements frees us up to be our true selves. With each other.
I’m annoyed she’s coming to lunch. Not because I don’t want her there.
But because I do.
Makes sense, right? Crap.
“She’ll meet you there,” Kate says bossily, following me down the hallway toward the elevators. “Your reservations are at noon under your name. The Sams and Lanham have twelve thirty reservations, so your being at the same restaurant should seem coincidental instead of desperate stalker.”
I punch the elevator button and look down at her. “How the hell do you know these things? Not only that he’s in town and having lunch but also the when and where?”
She smiles. “As if I’d reveal my methods.”
“You’re damn good at your job,” I say as the elevator doors open.
“I know.”
I step inside and turn to face her. “I’m grateful.”
Kate rolls her eyes. “I know that, too.”
“Anything you don’t know?” I ask with a grin.
“What happened with you and Sabrina all those years ago?” she says hopefully.
My smile drops, and the elevator doors close, saving me from responding. As if I could.
I’m not sure I even know what happened.
14
SABRINA
Tuesday Midday, September 26
“You’re late,” I say, not glancing up from my phone as Matt comes through the front door of the restaurant.
“Does anybody like you?” he mutters irritably, crossing his arms as he stands in front of me.
I grin. “Lara does. She asked me to be a bridesmaid.” I can’t help it. Two days later, I’m still riding high on that one.
His gaze searches my face, and when he smiles back, I have the strange sense he gets what the invitation meant to me. “Yeah?”
“Yup.”
His smile gets wider. “Excellent. I’m one of the best men. Maybe we can walk down the aisle together.”
I purse my lips. “Actually, now that you mention it, it’s a church wedding. I’m pretty sure your skin will burn off if you try to enter the building.”
“Ha-ha,” he says drily. “Shall we?” He puts a hand at the small of my back and nudges me toward the desk.
Matt checks in with the hostess, who motions for us to follow her.
He extends a hand, gesturing for me to precede him. Amateur. I ignore this, instead looping my arm in his and tugging him forward.
“Say something charming,” I whisper.
“Your ass looks amazing in that dress,” he says under his breath.
I let out a low chuckle so that anyone watching assumes we’re sharing an intimate inside joke, but my words are chastising. “I said charming not horny.”
“Compliments are charming.”
“Sure. Compliments on smiles. Hair. A woman’s ass, not so much. No wonder you’re single.”
He glances down at me. “I’m not single at the moment. I have you.”
I open my mouth, ready to sling back a tart retort, but . . . I don’t have one.
I have you.
I know what he means. He’s hired me to pretend he’s no longer single. But for a moment, the idea that we have each other felt . . . nice.
“Thanks for coming today,” he says quietly. “I didn’t find out about Kate’s plan until after she already called you.”
I feel oddly disappointed that it was Kate’s idea to call and not his.
He puts his lips to my ear. “Say you’re welcome.”
His proximity sends a quick ripple of awareness down my spine, and the way I lean into him, just slightly, isn’t even faked, though I hope like hell he won’t know that.
“Here we are!” the hostess announces, motioning us toward the center of the room.
It’s not a great table, right in the middle of all the foot traffic, but for what we need it for, it’s perfect. It’ll be impossible to miss Matt’s bosses when they come in. Or for them to miss us.
“So what’s our play?” I ask, picking up the menu once we’re seated. “Cocktail with lunch to signal we’re on a midday date or iced tea to show your new responsible side?”