Series: Paige Michaels
Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
“I stand on my feet all day too,” she pointed out. “Do you think it’s too late to change my major?” she joked.
He laughed again, his eyes dancing. “What was your major?”
“Finance,” she announced with a grin.
This time Anton’s booming laugh filled the room. “Touché.”
She giggled at his French accent, feeling more awake now than she had earlier.
“I guess a finance degree is incredibly helpful if you own your own business.”
She nodded as he slid a plate of steaming omelet in front of her. “Yep. I considered getting a degree in fashion design, but after about a year, I realized I preferred dressing people instead of designing clothes. I was already good at that. I have an instinctive eye for what colors and styles look good on people,” she informed him proudly. “What I needed to learn was how to run a business.”
“Brilliant.” He took the stool next to her and handed her a fork.
She moaned around the first bite, chewed, and swallowed. “How do you make eggs, veggies, and cheese taste so much better than I do?”
He wiggled his brows. “Magic. Oh, and a few spices.”
“So what do you do with your finance degree?” she asked after the next bite. She felt so comfortable with him, as if they’d known each other far longer than two days. He was easy to talk to, not to mention easy to look at. Damn, the man oozed sex appeal. Did he know she kept shifting her weight because his muscles were making her squirm?
When she met his gaze, he was grinning at her, and she realized she’d been running her gaze all up and down his body. He had on jeans that fit him perfectly, loafers, and a button-up navy shirt. So far all three times she’d seen him, he’d looked like he’d stepped off a magazine. The man had style oozing out of him.
Before he could answer, she started making guesses about his profession. She held up a finger. “Wait. Let me guess. I know you don’t own a gym, because I’ve met Davis, the owner of Fitness Haven, and there isn’t another gym in town…” She tapped her lips with her fingers as she thought. “Maybe you own a boxing ring or a karate studio?” She was sort of joking.
His infectious laughter filled the room again. “Are you saying I’m fit?”
She nodded. “Fit is an understatement.”
He shrugged as he finished off the last of his omelet and put his fork down. “Nope. I don’t own a gym of any sort. I work for a large investment firm. But I do like to work out every day. It makes me feel good. I’m actually a member of Fitness Haven and know Davis. He’s a great guy. Are you a member of the gym?”
She glanced down at herself. She was petite, but she certainly carried a few extra pounds. Not that she minded. She was a real woman. Not a Barbie doll. “Do I look like I belong to a gym?”
Anton frowned. “Are you making snide comments about yourself, Little girl? Because if you are, I don’t like it. You are perfect just the way you are. In addition, your body type tells me nothing about your possible gym membership. People of all shapes and sizes work out.”
Heat crawled up her cheeks. “Well, I don’t work out, unless you consider scurrying around the shop all day arranging clothes and unloading boxes when they come in a workout.”
“I do. That’s hard work. It’s more than a lot of people do.” He rose and took their plates to the sink.
Gemma jumped down from her stool and followed him. “I can clean up.”
He opened the dishwasher before looking in her direction again. “Daddy’s job,” he stated as if his position as her Daddy had been solidly established. It certainly had not. They hadn’t really discussed any such thing.
Even though Gemma was wildly attracted to him and had started fantasizing about him every time she had a free moment, she knew she was getting ahead of herself by thinking of him as hers.
She stood frozen in her spot a few feet from him as she watched him load the dishwasher and clean off the counter. She was wringing her hands together when he turned around.
“What’s wrong, Little girl?”
“Do you really think you could be my Daddy?”
He came to her, set his hands on her hips, and pulled her against him. “I know I can be your Daddy. If you’ll have me. And I intend to spend every moment I’m with you proving myself until you believe me.”
“Oh.” Any further words were stuck in her throat. The fantasy was too good to be true.
Anton slid a hand up to her face and tipped her chin back. “How about I kiss you again and remind you how hard the sparks were flying last night?” He lifted a brow.