Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Bethany laughs out loud, an artless smile brightening her face. She’s always stunning, but this expression makes her beyond beautiful. The tinkling sound of her amusement is light and feminine, and for the first time, she’s responding to me without first thinking. Right now, she’s natural. She’s real. This is her.
It’s arousing as hell.
“I can picture you as a bleary-eyed teenager stumbling around to find the exit. Oh, that’s hysterical.”
“When I recovered from the horrible hangover the next afternoon, I found the humor in it. When my dad was explaining what had happened to my mom, he was trying really hard not to chuckle. But he wasn’t terribly successful.” I take a swig of my beer. “Now it’s my turn. Drink or dare… Have you ever stolen anything?”
Instantly, her face closes up. I grit my teeth, mentally berating myself. That question was too much, too fast. Damn, I need to be more patient.
“That’s a terrible thing to ask.”
“Sorry. It was just random,” I lie. “I’m usually better at this, but it’s been a long day.”
“Then why don’t we end it?”
I take a risk and grab her hand. “Please. I’m enjoying my time with you. Would you rather have another question?”
“No, it’s fine.” She waves me away. “I need to stop making assumptions and being insecure.”
“About what?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “You asked me about stealing. I’d rather drink.”
Because she’s guilty and she doesn’t want to admit it?
“Living dangerously?” I taunt.
“That’s one way of looking at it. Bottoms up.” She lifts her wine and downs the entire glass in seconds.
Coupled with her almost nonexistent dinner, I wonder how much longer before she’s feeling the alcohol.
As soon as she sets the empty glass down, sinks back to the cushions, and shoots me a slightly unfocused glance, I have my answer. The booze is hitting her. Now we might get someplace.
“What did you steal?” I whisper conspiratorially.
“I never said I stole anything.”
“You drank to avoid answering me.”
“Which means I’m not talking about it.”
I slip into flirt mode. It’s not conscious. I can’t help but want to flirt with her. “Did you steal someone’s heart?”
Instantly, she scoffs. “I wish. I’ve never really been in a relationship. I always put work first—and I was fine with that. Hell, I was great with that since my dad was my only real example of what marriage was. If that was supposed to be happiness, I wanted no part of it.”
“Never?”
She shakes her head.
“You’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend?” I can’t fathom that. She’s beautiful and obviously smart and surprisingly easy to be around.
“In high school, I was the age of an average freshman when I was a senior. The upperclassmen ignored me. The underclassmen were intimidated by me. When I got to college, all the guys referred to me as jailbait. No one wanted anything to do with me.” She shrugs. “As soon as I finished my MBA, my dad put me to work. I wasn’t about to date clients and I didn’t have a lot of opportunities to meet other men. I didn’t have any girlfriends I could go barhopping with, either. And online dating never held any appeal. Besides, I was too busy.”
“But you’ve had sex?”
“Yes.” She glares at me.
I want to know how old she was, who with, why she gave her V-card to someone she didn’t even have a relationship with. But my last too-fast question taught me that I need to slow down. So I’ll keep a lid on my curiosity—for now.
“What about you?”
“I’ve had sex,” I assure her, tongue-in-cheek.
“A lot of it, I’m sure. You’re smooth. You look like the kind of guy who knows what to do with a woman. One of my first thoughts when I saw you was of your hands.”
“My hands?”
“They look capable of stroking a woman and making her very happy.”
Okay, that’s the booze talking, but it’s interesting to know that she’s thought about me, even in passing, as more than a friend.
“Oh, yeah. What else did you think?”
“Hey, it’s my turn to ask you a question. And since you sneaked in a few extras, you can answer me. Ever been someone’s boyfriend?”
“Not since high school, but yeah.”
“Why not since then? Why not now? Did something happen to swear you off relationships?”
Good question, one I haven’t given much thought, to be honest. “No, nothing happened except I got busy with work and figured I had all kinds of time to find the right woman. And I want what my parents had. They were married for twenty-eight years, and I never saw two people more in love. A couple of my buddies put a ring on the first piece of steady ass they got, and now they barely talk to their wives because they have nothing in common and they’re miserable. I want more.”
She nods slowly. “I want what all my siblings have. I didn’t know that until I saw the way they care and compromise. They tease and help each other and share everything.” She sighs. “But I’ll never find that. I grew up warped and I’m not sure I’m wired for relationships. Damn it, how did we end up talking about me again? No.” She shakes her head. “Drink or dare. Who was your first girlfriend?”