Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
He ignores me and opens the case, pulling out the sunglasses. Then he slides them onto my face and grins, clearly pleased with himself. “There. A disguise.”
I use one finger to pull the glasses down my nose an inch and give him a look over the top of them. “Seriously? It’s almost one a.m.”
“People will think you’re famous and wonder who you are.”
“Fantastic. Because I was really hoping they’d stare more.”
He jerks his chin toward my purse. “So, about that Tide pen . . .”
I shake my head. “No chance. But if you’re embarrassed . . .”
After a quick glance to see we’re in the shadows near the emergency exit with no one around, I step closer and button the top button of his dress shirt.
Yes, that’s right. I’m re-dressing Ian Bradley.
I try to keep it casual, almost maternal and businesslike. But then my fingers accidentally brush against his throat, and we both have to pretend not to notice. Or at least I pretend. Maybe he really doesn’t notice.
I pull out his pocket square—because yes, the man’s wearing one—and tuck the corner into the neck of his now buttoned-up shirt so it fans down over his chest in a ridiculous diagonal square.
Did I mention the pocket square is lavender?
“There,” I say.
He looks down and smooths a hand over the purple silk. “This is nice. A really manly look.”
I nod in agreement and push the sunglasses back on my face. “Like a man bib. Too bad you weren’t wearing it earlier to catch the spill.”
He looks at me expectantly. “All right. Are we disguised enough to Bonnie and Clyde our way out of here?”
I want to. So badly. But . . . “Ian.”
He sighs. “I’m thrilled we’re on a first-name basis, but I’m not digging that tone.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Do you even know that tone?”
“I’ve heard of it once. Rejection, is it? Never happened to me. Till now.”
I open my mouth, wanting to tell him that I’ve never felt the way he makes me feel before, but no words come out. I don’t know if I’m smart or just a coward. But when he presses the pad of his thumb gently against my bottom lip, I know I’m a fool.
He gives a quick smile. “Come on. Let’s get you a cab home. I’m pretty sure your friend’s gonna be a while.” A moment later, he ushers me out into the warm night air.
“How’d you know the alarm wouldn’t sound?” I say, gesturing at the emergency door.
“They turned off the alarm a few months ago. Too many drunk couples stumbling outside to make out.”
“Speaking from experience?”
He winks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I think I already do,” I grumble.
“Now, now, Ms. McKenzie,” he teases. “Have we learned nothing today about making assumptions?”
“So you haven’t come out that side door and made out with club bunnies?” I ask.
“Nah, I have,” he says, stepping toward the sidewalk and lifting a hand to hail a cab.
“Right,” I mutter, unable to keep the grumpiness out of my voice.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, not looking at me as a cab pulls to a stop in front of us. “When I make out with you, it won’t be against the wall of a seedy club. And I will definitely remember it.”
“What do you mean, when?” I say, staring at his profile. “I told you—”
He puts a hand over my mouth and opens the cab door with the other.
“Where do you live?” he asks, lifting his hand from my face so I can answer.
Too confused to think clearly, I give him my address, which he relays to the driver before motioning me inside.
I pull off my sunglasses as I climb into the back seat. “Ian—”
He puts a playful finger against my lips. “That’s Mr. Bradley to you. For now.” He winks and shuts the door.
I turn around as the cab pulls away from the curb and watch as he lifts his arm, hailing another cab for himself. When it stops, he turns toward me and grins, as though knowing I’m watching him.
He fades from view as my cab takes a right turn, and I flop back against the seat, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”
But I’m smiling.
19
IAN
Week 4: Monday Morning
I look up at the knock on my door, and though I love Kate Henley like a sister, I feel a stab of disappointment that it’s not Lara. And because she’s like a sister, Kate totally calls me on it.
“I saw that,” she says, waggling a finger at me as she comes into my office. “You sulked.”
“I don’t sulk.”
“Not usually, no. Just apparently when your crush isn’t here.”
“Is this conversation optional?” I mutter, turning back to my computer screen.
She settles into the chair across from me. “You’re sulking and grumpy. That’s usually Kennedy’s gig.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“Little bit,” she says, holding up her fingers.