Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Her face was even as crimson as the first time I scared her half to death.
What the ever living fuck?
A face-to-chest collision and not even a hello before she took off like she was afraid I’d light her ass on fire?
At least Creighton’s irritation confirms it wasn’t a hallucination.
Without it, I’d be questioning my sanity, considering I’ve been as fixated as a damn kid with a prom date since that night in Lanai.
No illusion, though.
Our gazes melted.
Her emerald eyes with mine.
Her strawberry of a mouth, pert and sweet and aching for my teeth.
I forgot how striking she truly is in the flesh. No fading memory of that weekend could ever do her justice.
She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever kissed, and that’s the problem.
“Boss, do you know that young woman?” Keenan asks.
I whip around, ignoring his question. “Was she a new hire?”
My mind flashes back to the black-and-gold company badge hanging from her collar. Not the same badge we use for guests and freelance contractors.
I’m about to take off after her—but at the pace she’s going, she’s probably ahead of me by now. She damn near pulls that poor brunette with her right over.
Meanwhile, Creighton speeds ahead and disappears through the glass doors. I hope I didn’t bruise his ego too much.
I glance over at Keenan. “Who was that?”
But I already know she’s a vlogger named Piper Renee I can’t extract from my psyche.
“You mean the blond your eyes were superglued to?” Keenan says with a knowing smile.
I glare at him, willing the ground underneath him to open up.
He laughs. “Don’t worry! She looked surprised to see you too. Haven’t ever seen a staring contest that intense since...ever.”
In true Keenan style, he’s not taking the hint.
If he weren’t the best damn executive assistant I’ve had—the only one who’s ever kept up with a million moving pieces that change daily—he’d be long gone. And as an added bonus, he’s never hit on me because he prefers delicate and sensitive artist men who wear bright colors.
“Get me her name and division,” I say. I narrowly avoid adding ASAP.
Keenan wags his brows and leans into my ear.
“You feeling okay, bossman? Because if you’re suddenly in the market for a scandalicious office romance...”
“Don’t,” I bite off. “Don’t even joke about that shit. This organization has a sterling reputation, and Gramps will have me castrated if I don’t keep it. Capiche?”
“Capiche? You’ve gone all Tony Soprano now? This is serious.”
I snort, struggling not to crack a smile.
If I’m going to have an asshole as my right-hand man, at least he’s a witty asshole.
“Sorry. My grandma used to say that when I was in trouble, even though we’re less than one percent Italian. Look, if the blonde is who I think she is and she’s on payroll, I need to talk to her. She could help our marketing woes. If it weren’t for the meeting, I’d go looking for her myself.”
“And you don’t need me there to take notes now?” he asks.
“Dammit. I hadn’t thought about that. Find a secretary for the notes and you find Miss Clumsy for me. Pull her personnel file. I’ll decide what happens from there.”
Keenan doesn’t say anything, but from the way he stares, I can tell he’s intrigued. He snaps off a crisp salute.
I roll my eyes. “Out with it. If you’ve got any shit on your brain, let’s have it now.”
“I’m just surprised if you aren’t cruising for a hookup—something I’m sure your grouchy fun-hating self would never do. We’ve got our best people working on the big bad, vets with ten years in digital marketing. They haven’t been able to figure out what the hell is going on with reviews. So, why would some new hire?”
“She’s new, but I’ve seen her talents shine before. She could bring valuable insights you just won’t get from a desk jockey, even if they’re damn good at what they do. I’d be a fool to ignore her.”
Keenan nods slowly, still side-eyeing me. “I’m on it. Enjoy your meeting.”
We split apart as we head back inside.
My jaw feels tight enough to splinter.
A hundred justified business reasons for finding Miss Renee still can’t hide the awful truth.
I’m aching to taste her again.
That abstract, phantom lust I’ve carried around for months just turned into a bleeding sore.
What the fuck happens if I know she’s in reach?
If I know she’s in this very building, and infinitely more forbidden than she ever was on a starry Hawaiian night?
The meeting is pointless mind dribble.
It’s an hour and a half of listening to a contractor moaning apologies because he can’t meet the deadlines he agreed to and all the reasons why the consequences shouldn’t be contractually enforced.
Missing deadlines wastes my time.
So do meetings that drag on with a litany of excuses.
I glance at the middle-aged man across from me, Price my Legal head, and sigh. “You don’t want to activate the penalty program, but I do. The contract was breached—”