Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Well, you certainly knocked it out of the park. It’s breathtaking.”
We stopped at the bar and Lucy turned and asked for two glasses of champagne. “I hope champagne is okay for you?”
A part of me wanted to tell her I needed something a hell of a lot stronger if I was going to make it through this night. Instead, I flashed her a smile and took the flute. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”
“Let’s find Luke. I’m sure he’s itching to meet his date.”
“I bet he is,” I whispered before I took a drink.
I caught a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Morrison’s daughter, Jenn, across the ballroom. I hadn’t spoken to her too many times, maybe once when she came to the office, and I was on the top floor where the senior lawyers and partners had offices. She’d been wearing a tennis outfit that day and hadn’t stayed long enough for me to even finish introducing myself.
“Oh, there’s Mitch and Luke,” Lucy said. “Come along, Brighton. I can’t wait to introduce you. He’s going to fall over when he sees you—and might possibly fall in love at first sight!”
Letting out a nervous laugh, all I could do was smile.
I allowed my boss’s wife to pull me along like a puppy on a lead as I tried to keep my heart from pounding right out of my chest. Why in the hell was I so nervous? Maybe it was the idea of letting Mr. Morrison down, or even Lucy. With the way her eyes were twinkling, I had a feeling she was hoping her son might get lucky tonight. And he might. Maybe Hank was his lover. Or maybe he was bi and there was still hope?
Oh God, what if he wanted a threesome with Hank?
My stomach dropped, and I shook that thought away. I mean, I was always up for an adventure, but two guys at once was not something I had on my bucket list.
I pushed that visual away as we approached a group of six men, all dressed in tuxedos. Mr. Morrison was one of them; Jon Gline, one of the three partners, was another. The other three men were senior lawyers in the firm, whom I’d maybe said hello to once or twice in the elevator.
The last man had his back to me, but was broad across the shoulders and had thick, wavy, short dark brown hair that I instantly wanted to run my fingers through. That had to be the mysterious Luke Morrison. He certainly made an impression from behind. Christ Almighty, he had a nice ass.
What in the hell, Bree? Run your fingers through his hair? And why are you checking out his ass? Get it together, woman! He’s not even going to look twice at you.
“Darling, look who I found,” Lucy said as she tapped on her husband’s shoulder. When Mr. Morrison saw me, he grinned.
“There you are, Brighton,” Mr. Morrison said. He looked back at the other men. “Jon, you of course know Brighton Rogers, one of our up-and-coming litigation lawyers. If you ever get a divorce, you want this woman as your lawyer.”
They all laughed, and I smiled. It was, of course, true. I was damn good at my job. I was honest and fair, yet didn’t take bullshit from anyone. That, and I lived, ate, and slept this freaking job.
The three men, along with Mr. Jon Gline, nodded and said hello. I turned my attention to the man who had originally had his back to me—and almost swallowed my damn tongue.
Holy. Mary. Mother. Of. Jesus. Why in the name of all that is holy does he have to be so good-looking?
Standing before me wasn’t a man. He was a Roman god. Well-proportioned with his skin tanned to just the right color to give it a glow. Skin, I might add, that looked flawless and had me making a mental note to ask him what type of skin-care routine he used. The black tux and dark color of his hair made his brown eyes look almost black. To say he was handsome would not be doing this man justice. He was drop-dead, make-a-virgin’s-cherry-pop-from-his-smile-alone gorgeous. He looked like a young Gene Kelly.
Why are you being so cruel to me, Lord? What did I do?
When I was able to drag my eyes from his face, I took in his body before meeting his gaze again. I had to work on my breathing to keep it even and steady. I also needed to remember this guy was the son of my boss. And I was currently eye-fucking and undressing him in my imagination.
Lucky, lucky Hank.
“Brighton Rogers, this is my son and your date for the evening, Luke Morrison.”
I was going to deserve a fucking Oscar for how calm and cool I acted, while on the inside I was melting into a freaking puddle. My heart hammered in my chest.