Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Thank you.” She squeezes my shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with a little after work fun with the boss. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
I groan and laugh at the same time. “I’m not trying it. I won’t be sleeping with my boss.”
“Keep your options open.” She smiles. “Sometimes, a man like that can surprise a woman like you.”
That might be true, but I’m still dealing with the fallout from my breakup six months ago. The last thing I need is to get entangled with someone like Sean Wells.
Chapter Fourteen
Sean
A quick stop at Tin Anchor earlier this evening didn’t reap the reward I wanted. I hoped that I’d get a chance to indulge in a glass of scotch while staring at my newest employee.
Apparently, the plans she spoke of had nothing to do with her second job.
Delora mentioned that she’d asked Champ to join her for dinner, but she got the same song and dance about Calliope’s plans.
Since I’m trying to nail down the respectful boss thing, I dropped the idea of tracking her down.
It wouldn’t have been hard.
One phone call and a bullshit marketing emergency, and I would have blown those plans apart. The problem is that our current marketing campaign is running smoothly.
I sprint up the concrete steps leading up to a brownstone on the Upper East Side.
I bang my fist against the door in a series of knocks that make no sense to anyone but the person who lives here and me.
It doesn’t take much more than a few seconds before the next sequence of knocks in our secret code sound from the opposite side of the door.
As the door swings open, I bark out a laugh.
My gaze lands on the muscular chest of one of my best friends.
“What the fuck, Harry?” I question him. “Put on a goddamn shirt.”
His hand runs the length of his chest and abs before it settles on his hip, just above the waistband of his black sweatpants. “Says the guy who is practically naked in Times Square.”
Harrison Keene, along with my other two closest friends, Graham Locke and Kavan Bane, are the only people outside those employed by Wells who know I’m the guy in that print ad.
I brush past him on my way inside his home.
It’s all old-world charm mixed with modern design.
Harry bought the place from his uncle years ago. For a time, it was my home too. Harry was going through a rough patch, and I wanted to lend a hand.
That had nothing to do with monetary aid.
I wanted to be around in case he needed a friend or someone to whip up dinner.
Harry, Kavan, and Graham are as close to me as Declan is.
Harry trails behind me as I make my way through the foyer, into the main hallway, and straight to the kitchen.
When I round the island in pursuit of a cold beer from the fridge, I finally glance back to catch him yanking a T-shirt over his head. It’s emblazoned with the logo of the boarding school we attended when we were teenagers. It makes sense given that Harry foot the bill for The Buchanan School’s new library, which opened two months ago.
His brown hair is mussed, and he’s covered in sweat from what must have been a hard workout in his home gym.
“How are you feeling?” I ask the question that always slips out even though it irks Harry whenever it leaves my lips.
“I’m good,” he says as he rakes a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back into place. “What are you doing here?”
I bend down to look in the fridge. Just as I suspect, it’s fully stocked with organic fruits and vegetables and free-range chicken and beef.
“I’m here to cook you dinner.”
I glance to where he’s standing. He’s grinning from ear to ear. “I won’t turn that down, but why are you really here, Sean?”
I yank two bottles of imported beer from the fridge and place them on the island before sliding open the drawer that holds the bottle opener. “No reason other than I missed your pretty face.”
His blue eyes narrow as he considers my words. “If I get one of your home-cooked meals out of this, I suppose the reason doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t,” I agree.
“I’m going to hit the shower.” He glances at the now opened bottles of beer. “I’ll be back in twenty. I’m in the mood for steak if you’re curious.”
Expecting to hear that, I chuckle. “Steak it is, Harry.”
I didn’t plan on showing up on his doorstep, but it beats sitting in my apartment waiting for a glimpse of Calliope through the peephole when she gets home from her date.
As hard as I try, I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have her naked beneath me.
Chapter Fifteen
Callie
It took me two blocks before I realized why my niece and nephew were giggling when I hugged them goodbye.