Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Her dress was shoved up around the tops of her thighs, barely covering the important stuff. In her little sun dress and loose curls, I thought she would look right at home in a sunny meadow on a spring day. A light sprinkle of freckles across her nose added to the illusion.
A melodic rap song suddenly started playing over a central sound system, and Vanessa started bobbing her head to the music.
“So Mikey tells me you’re a Journalism major. What made you choose that?” Her tone was light and friendly like her expression.
“Yeah, I guess I just like writing, and I like sports. That led me to the communications field, and eventually to where I am now. Interning for Kage. Uh… Mikey.”
She laughed at my obvious confusion over what to call him when I was talking to her. “Mikey and I go way back,” she said. “We went to high school together.”
“Really?” That got my attention. Talking with his childhood friends was a great way to get to know my client. “Has he always been… the way he is?”
Okay, I’m not going to win any Pulitzer prizes in journalism with that vague question.
“He’s always been unique, if that’s what you mean. But don’t let the hard edges fool you. He’s a big, soft Teddy bear inside. I’m telling you right now, if anyone ever hurt him, you’d have to pull me off the sonofabitch. I’d go to jail for Michael Kage in a heartbeat, no questions asked. I would do anything for him. Kill, maim…” She narrowed her eyes menacingly at me. “In other words, watch your step.”
She was so earnest. I laughed when I tried to picture her being Kage’s body guard. “That’s so sweet. The big bad MMA fighter needs the protection of a size-three lingerie model.”
“Size zero,” she corrected, raising a delicate brow. “And I see my reputation precedes me. Or have you seen my pics?”
Why did that sound like an accusation?
I blushed, imagining looking at images of a scantily-clad Vanessa in a lingerie catalog. I’m sure Mark Gladstone would not agree, but it seemed like it would have been an invasion of privacy to know what this girl looked like almost naked before I’d even met her.
“No,” I practically whispered. “I’ve never seen your pictures.” I rubbed my sweaty palms nervously against my knees and looked around for Kage. “I need to go to the restroom. Can you point me in the right direction?”
I had gone when Mark and I had arrived at the last bar, but now I just needed to get away for a moment.
Maybe see where Kage was.
Vanessa inclined her head toward a door at the back of the living area. “Right over there. Just go on in and the bathroom will be on your right. I’ll grab a beer while you’re gone.”
The room on the other side of the door was not a restroom. It was a bedroom with a huge king size bed in the center. It had the same style picture window as the one in the living area, the urban glow of Vegas providing subtle illumination in the darkened room.
Kage sat on the unmade bed, leaning up against the headboard, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers. A halo of smoke billowed up around his head. I froze in my tracks when I saw him, and that’s when the smell hit me.
Weed.
Kage tilted his head back and blew a thick stream of smoke up into the air. His expression was a mystery in the low light, but the way the interplay of light and shadow accentuated every curve and dip of his muscled body made me feel uncomfortable in a way I didn’t want to examine.
Without a word, he held out a blunt toward me in offering. I approached the bed on nervous legs. It wasn’t that I’d never smoked weed. I’d done that plenty, especially when Braden was going through his dealer phase. My nerves tonight had more to do with the person who was doing the offering rather than what he was offering. Kage jangled my nerves, made me feel like a stupid kid. I thought it would get better as we got to know each other, but if anything I was becoming more awkward around him with every day that passed.
I hesitated. “What if I have a piss test or something?” I was genuinely concerned, having recently entered the workforce.
“Who’s your boss?” he asked simply, an amused expression on his face.
“Oh, yeah.” I felt my cheeks color slightly, but I wasn’t about to let him get away with that comment. “Actually, I think you’re more like a client than a boss.”
He didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at me like I amused him somehow.
I took the blunt from him and sucked in a hit. The smoke tickled going down, expanding too much in my chest, forcing me to turn away and cough into my hand.