Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
After steaming through my swim this morning and getting ready for my day, I head to the office. I park my car and when I arrive on our floor, my smiling face drops, along with my extended arm. No Gina. And no coffee. My brows pinch as I step out of the elevator, looking left and right. Where is she? It’s eight o’clock. What gives? The moment I ask myself that, my phone rings, Gina’s name flashing up on my screen.
“Where are you?” she asks the second the call connects.
“Just arrived at the office.”
“What are you doing there?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s where I work.”
“Tyler,” she snaps. “I’m at Pyra’s studio where you told me to be at eight sharp. I sent you a meeting invitation.”
“Oh shit. I must have missed that.”
I hear Gina sigh down the line. “You’re weird lately. I’ll stall them. Get your arse here pronto, you idiot.”
“On my way.” I dive back into the lift and hit the button for the ground floor, and as I’m carried back down to my car, I not only curse myself for letting the meeting with Pyra slip my mind, I curse the fact that I’m going to be out of the office all day, which means no visual dose of Lainey. And that sucks majorly.
Gina is a fucking saint. I was half an hour late for my meeting, but Karen and Whitney were too busy showing samples to my gushing assistant to care much. We went over the marketing ideas, which are fucking ace, by the way, and the strategy, as well as hitting on all social media platforms and targeted demographics. It’s been a long morning poring over ideas, but the synergy between Christianson Walker and Pyra is one of the best I’ve known, and today it’s only strengthened. And I haven’t even had to sleep with them.
“Take them,” Karen says to Gina, who’s feeling a lace thong with a fond smile on her face.
“Oh God, no.” She drops them on the large wooden table that has lingerie in every color, shape, and size spread out all over it. “Besides, it’s not like I have anyone to appreciate it.”
I only just stop myself from mentioning Mac. I bet he’d appreciate it. I grab the knickers and thrust them at my assistant. “You will appreciate it, and that’s the most important thing of all. It’s what this campaign is all about.”
“Yes,” Whitney chimes, smiling brightly at me. “Tyler is so in touch with our minds, it’s scary.”
I flash my knockout smile at the two women, knowing they’d love me to be in touch with something else, too. A few weeks ago, I might have ventured there, despite having the deal in the bag. “Besides,” I go on, giving Gina my attention as she takes the thong, “I’m going to have great fun studying you each day and figuring out if you’re wearing it.”
Gina scoffs and smacks my arm, and Karen and Whitney chuckle. “He’s terrible to work for,” Gina says with no conviction whatsoever, making me smile.
“I bet,” Karen muses, giving me sultry eyes.
I still appreciate the need to keep these girls sweet, so I wink and grin, before gesturing for Gina to lead the way. “It’s been a pleasure, as always, ladies. I’ll get things in motion.”
“Sounds good,” Karen calls. “Let us know if you need any help with that.”
I keep my attention forward and smile as Gina and I head for my car. “Will do,” I shout over my shoulder, knowing the offer won’t be restricted to business.
“It’s really quite sad seeing woman lust all over you like that,” Gina says tiredly, getting in the passenger seat.
I slip in the driver’s side and start the engine, laughing. “I’m used to it.”
“You have such a big ego.”
I flash her an over-the-top smile, and she rolls her eyes, pointing at my head. “What?” My hand goes straight to my hair and smooths through the waves. If she mentions the word gray, I can’t promise I won’t fire her.
“It needs cutting.”
I pull down the sun visor and peek in the mirror, turning from side to side to get all angles. “It does?”
“It’s been eight weeks since you’ve been trimmed.”
“Eight?” My hair suddenly feels like a wild mess. “Why haven’t you booked me in?”
“In all the years I’ve worked for you, Tyler, you have always made your own hair arrangements.”
I scowl at myself in the mirror and flip up the visor as I pull out onto the road and dial my regular hairdresser. “Hello, KC salon, Betsy speaking. How can I help you?”
“Betsy,” I sing, all happy, like it’s a delight to hear her voice.
“Tyler,” she sighs. “I’ve been wondering what happened to you.”
She doesn’t want to know. I wouldn’t know where to start. “You free?”
“For what?”
I laugh, soft and low, and Gina huffs loudly. I look at her and shrug. Yes, I’ve been there. Only once, though. But I might need to again if I want my mop of hair sorting out with any kind of urgency. At least, I’ll give Betsy the impression that I’ll go there again. But I won’t. “I could do with some attention.”