Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Dammit. How easy it would be to fall for him again.
But that she would never do. Not ever.
At twenty-one, loving him more than she’d ever thought possible, she’d been crushed to know that when he looked at her, he saw nothing more than his mistress.
* * *
The elevator doors closed on his view of her.
Ransom had been so close to stepping in there with her. His brain felt muddled just standing beside her. Still wanting her. It took all his willpower to stop himself from touching her, kissing her, even from saying anything at all.
After fifteen years, he’d actually grown up a little, and he was emotionally aware enough to know that he needed to process this inconceivable situation. Not just her showing up in his office wanting him to work for her, but the stunning realization that he’d never truly forgotten her. Even as he watched the floor numbers descend, he recognized that she still blew any other woman he’d ever dated clear out of the water.
Damn, did I ever screw that up.
Slowly, thoughtfully, he walked back to his office. Since he was being totally honest with himself, he had to say he’d been thinking about her not only in sexual terms and the sparks he was sure still flew between them, but also as the woman she’d become. A woman to be reckoned with. She was nothing like the groupies he occasionally slept with out of sheer loneliness. Or the few women he’d met and dated through his work. Ava Harrington was a smart, confident, indomitable woman. The woman he’d walked away from. She’d accused him of treating her like his mistress, but she’d never been that.
And yet, had he seen her as the woman she would become in just a few years?
He’d wanted her in his life, had cared about her, but he hadn’t treated her as a strong-minded woman with plans and dreams. He hadn’t valued her the way she should have been valued.
Maybe he’d begun recognizing that as he listened to Dane’s tales about his siblings. He just hadn’t wanted to consider why he’d glommed on to every detail Dane revealed. She’d grown into a powerful woman, even more beautiful than he remembered, even more dazzling and brilliant than Dane had described.
And if she thought she could palm him off on her assistant, she had another thing coming.
Chapter Five
Standing before the picture window of her penthouse flat in Pacific Heights, Ava looked out over the bay.
She loved this place, loved the view, which at night was lit up by the Golden Gate Bridge, the city lights, and the lights on Alcatraz, the bay black all around it.
She’d personally chosen every piece of furniture in the flat, all with a midcentury-modern flair—the leather sofa she could sink into, the kidney-shaped glass coffee table and matching end tables, the bookcases, the dining table and chairs. Thick, luxurious rugs partially covered the oak hardwood floors, and the rooms all had clean lines without an excess of knickknacks on every surface. Her brother Clay called it minimalist, but she had only the things she needed. A large primary suite, two guest bedrooms for visiting family, three bathrooms—hers with a massive soaker tub—and a home office where she spent much of her time.
She sipped her second champagne cocktail, though she usually limited herself to one. But tonight was different. From the moment she left Ransom’s office, her thoughts had plagued her.
I cannot believe what I’ve just done.
It was time for a little speech to herself, saying the words aloud to give them maximum effect.
“You’re going to compartmentalize,” she told her reflection in the living-room window. “Just pretend you’re working with any other man. Pretend he’s George Twisselman.” The thought made her laugh out loud. Ransom was the furthest thing from George Twisselman.
They needed to start first thing in the morning. She had only thirteen days left. She must have something in place before then.
The doorbell rang, startling her out of her thoughts. Who on earth could it be? Maybe Dane and Cammie. At the family mastermind, they’d said they were staying over to catch a show.
She could stand there all night wondering. Or she could find out. She pressed the intercom by the door. “Who is it?”
The answer was swift. “It’s me.”
Her heart fluttered. He didn’t say Ransom Yates, not even Ransom. Just it’s me, as though she’d know exactly who he was. Which, of course, she did.
In leggings and a bulky sweater, she certainly wasn’t elegant. The outfit wasn’t even sexy. She’d had that extra glass of champagne, and though she wasn’t tipsy, she was caught off guard.
But with those thirteen days counting down, she had to let him in.
“Come in. I’m on the top floor.” She pressed the buzzer to unlock the street door.
After a soft knock on her door moments later, she opened it to find him dressed casually. His jeans hugged his body, his T-shirt beneath a bomber jacket tight across his impressive chest.