Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Or what I want them to be.
“Is that what you want?” he asks carefully.
We’re treading into new territory, and every sentence intensifies the tension in the room. My dress clings to my body, stuck to my skin by a sheen of sweat, and my palms slide along the cool stone of the table. The weight of his gaze makes me feel powerful—beautiful—and it’s heady.
“Well, it has been a while,” I say, leaning forward. “Thomas is the perfect candidate to give me what I need.”
Jason licks his lips. “And what do you need, exactly?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Jason moves slowly around the table, his fingertips dusting along the top of the quartz.
Excitement blooms in my stomach, causing my heart to race, and I wonder if I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew. My brain hurries to keep up with my body—to settle down the hormones that have flooded my system. But there’s no stopping my attraction to Jason. And, by the looks of it, there might be no stopping his attraction to me.
A thought in the back of my brain warns me not to go any further. Jason is my friend and employer—this situation could quickly get out of control. But instincts take over as he stops inches from me and peers at me from nearly a foot above.
We aren’t friends. We aren’t coworkers. We’re a man and a woman.
“Does that bother you?” I ask, my stomach clenching.
My voice is breathier than I’d like—softer and more intimate than it should be. But his vulnerability, the unguarded way he’s looking at me, screws with my head. It sure as hell screws with my libido.
“I’m bothered, all right.” He takes a measured breath. “I’m also your boss.”
“And you’re absolutely not my type.”
“Oh, whatever.”
I laugh, the moment broken. Relief washes over me as Jason steps back, running a large hand over his head.
“Not being egotistical or anything,” he says, smirking, “but I’m absolutely your type, Chloe.”
“Hate to break the news to you, but you’re not.”
He watches me out of the corner of his eye and pauses as if he’s about to say something. Instead, he fights a smile and heads for the door.
I follow him, knowing he knows I’m a liar. But I also wonder if he realizes that if I had to describe my type, I’d say his name.
Chapter 7
Chloe
“Good night, Mimi,” I say from her doorway. “Do you want me to turn on a fan to help with the noise?”
She’s propped up in her bed, an old Western playing silently on the small TV across the room. Her hair is in rollers, and a fresh coat of pink nail polish shimmers on her fingertips. She smiles with freshly sugar-scrubbed lips.
“Yes, and I’ll turn my television up, too,” she says. “If you don’t mind turning on my fan, I’d appreciate it. Someone’s smoking something somewhere, and it’s starting to make me a little woozy.”
“Do you need a pain reliever or a drink of water?” I ask, switching on the fan.
“Oh no. I’m fine.” She holds up a shaky hand and gingerly explores the knot on her forehead with her fingertips. “Just a little purple.”
“If you start to have a headache again, you better tell me.”
She snorts. “I’m not telling you. You’ll let Greta’s grandson in here again, and I’ll wind up breaking his fingers if he wags them in my face one more time.”
“Mimi.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Be nice. He’s an EMT. Greta offered to send him over to check you out—for free. I couldn’t turn down the offer.”
And I wanted a quick meetup with him to make sure he still passed the vibe check. Unfortunately, I’m not sure. It’s not his fault because I know I was comparing him to Jason Brewer, which is wholly unfair. No one would stand a chance against Jason. But that doesn’t mean I can override my squashed interest in Thomas and pretend I want him to bend me over the hood of his car again.
Dammit, anyway.
“I’m just old, Chloe. I’m not deaf. I don’t need him in my face and yelling at me like I’m hard of hearing. I can hear just fine.” She clenches her jaw and turns back to the Western. “And he’s gonna hear me give him a piece of my mind if he tries that shit again.”
I sigh. “Yell if you need me.”
“You know I have a cell phone, right? I can text you. Or call you. I don’t have to yell.”
“What is wrong with you tonight?” I ask, laughing. “You’re ornery as hell.”
“I just got pissed off again thinking about Thomas and his skinny little finger shoved in my face.” She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “Next time, I’ll take it and shove it up his—”
“Good night, Mimi,” I say loud enough to drown out her rant. “I love you.”