Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“I’m serious.” She watched people move in and out of buildings with purpose. “I didn’t disclose my previous relationship with him.”
“Why would you have to… Oh shit. Did that bastard not remember your night?”
“Guess I’m not as memorable as you are.” She ignored the sting of pain that the man who had rocked her world didn’t recall her at all.
“Bullshit. He’s a man, he’s going to be slow on some things.”
She grimaced. “And how long did it take Gareth?”
A single moment of silence, which spoke volumes. Yeah, that’s what I thought.
“This isn’t about us and our night together. It’s about you. Look,” Xandra said, growing serious. “You’re a kickass woman who’s at the top of her field. Yes, I suggested you without hesitation when I heard he was looking, but not only because of your night together. I honestly think you’re going to be the one who figures out what is going on.”
“While I appreciate the vote of confidence, I’m not sure I forgive you keeping that from me.”
“Pish-posh. We both know had you known you wouldn’t have even gone. You would have turned him down flat.”
No argument at all.
“Tell me one thing, Xandra.”
“No, I don’t know the size of his dick, but then, as you do, I’m sure that wasn’t even your question.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I hate you.”
“Liar. Sorry, go ahead. What’s the question?”
“Is he always such an arrogant prick?”
Her laughter had Daisy grinning as well.
* * * *
Two hours later, she stretched from being bent over the papers that she’d been going through. Checking the hour, she realized she’d worked through dinner. Not wanting to go down to the casino and eat there, she sighed and walked to the phone, which had a menu in a black leather binder by it.
After a quick meal, she got back to work. Only once she realized it was nearing eleven at night did she force herself to walk away. Whoever this was had done a good job. She wasn’t finding anything other than the obvious—too obvious in her opinion—trail leading to one Bradford Rhodes.
Daisy washed up before bed and padded over to the king-sized mattress just screaming out her name. The frame was raised and she had to climb up to get in bed. As she slipped over the smooth sheets, she didn’t care. This was freaking heaven. Barely remembering to set an alarm before sleep overtook her, she didn’t fight it when it came searching.
* * * *
In the morning, she was up before the sun and had showered, dressed in more comfortable clothing, and was working on the whiteboards when a knock came on the door. Walking through the boxes, she made her way to the door and opened it.
Not who she expected to see this time of the morning. Or at all really.
Livingston Rhodes was flat-out mouth-watering, and it wasn’t fair to her or anyone else who was attracted to men. Firm lips in a disapproving line or not, she wanted to kiss them. Him.
All. Over.
Shoving the parts of her that were ready to follow through with that option down to the pit, she blinked once and arched her eyebrows as she paused the music playing in her ears. “Something I can do for you, Mr. Rhodes, at five-thirty in the morning?”
He didn’t look the least bit put out by her mentioning the time. “Wanted to know what progress you’d made.”
Holy fuck, this man was a helicopter boss. At least he was for her. Without a word, she stepped back, allowing him entrance.
How did he even know I was awake? She cut her gaze to the door that Chester had told her led to his side of the suite. Had he been there listening to her? Or for her? With the same undeniable scent of masculinity and a hint of the outdoors, he brushed into her space, making it so much smaller. Swallowing her groan, she shut the door and followed him over to her setup.
“You have the boards turned so they can’t be seen by the door.”
“Yes.” Or the window, but that was neither here nor there. She moved up beside him, conscious that she wore something similar to what she’d had on the previous night—shorts and a cut-off shirt.
He dipped his head and she wanted to believe his lips twitched up as he read her shirt. I’m a forensic accountant. I solve problems you don’t know you have in ways you can’t understand. The teal lettering on the dark-purple shirt popped, but it was two sizes too big for her and slid to the side, offering one shoulder to the air and his gaze.
“What do you have?”
And just like that, she was irritated again.
Shifting so she was between him and the boards, she looked up at him, putting on her work expression. The hard-ass woman who knew her job better than most expression. Part of the reason so many firms had come after her.