Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“The mannequin. Why does it have nipples?”
“Oh.” Daff gaped at where one of her hands was resting on Maggie’s perky breast, the lifelike little nipple peeking out between her fingers. She reddened and snatched her hand away, but Maggie started to topple and Spencer made a grab for the heavy mannequin. This time his huge mitt of a hand covered the small breast completely, and Daff’s throat went dry. Maggie’s breasts were almost exactly the same size as hers . . . and seeing Spencer’s hand so completely engulfing it made her stomach flutter alarmingly. She couldn’t help but wonder how that same hand would feel on her breast, and it was messing with her head.
Spencer, unaware of Daff’s wayward thoughts, held on to Maggie while yanking the strap over her hand and then her arm, his longer reach making the task look easy. Determinedly shoving her unexpected and inappropriate thoughts aside, Daff felt her face settle into a glower.
“I don’t need your help,” she protested, and he silenced her with a long, speaking look that really made her feel like a petulant child. When he was certain that he had silenced her protests, he refocused on the task at hand.
“Why the hell does this thing have so many straps?” he growled beneath his breath as he wrestled with Maggie’s other arm. Daff eased the straps over the mannequin’s fingers and up over the smooth, plastic arm. The task was much easier with his help. She tried to ignore his closeness, the heat coming off his huge body, and the warm, delicious musk of his aftershave. He made her feel small and delicate, and Daff didn’t like feeling small and delicate—it made her uncomfortable.
Once they had Maggie dressed, they both stepped back and took in the effect. The dress had a plunging cowl neck, dipping very low between the mannequin’s breasts and resting just above the perky nipples that had so disturbed Spencer. The confounding off-the-shoulder straps settled beautifully on her upper arms.
“Seriously, why the nipples?”
“I don’t know,” Daff said, resting her hands on her hips as she tilted her head, trying to figure out how to accessorize with the dress. Because it was so damned sparkly, it didn’t need much embellishment, so she decided to leave it as it was. It was going to look fantastic backlit in the window at night.
“They seem pointless as fuck,” he said, still on about the damned nipples. Daff was trying very hard to forget the image of his big hand over that small boob, because the memory deeply, deeply unsettled her. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to hide her own perky nipples, which were starting to stand up and beg for attention. They were probably well hidden by the padding of her bra, but she wasn’t going to chance him figuring out that she’d had a rogue moment of attraction toward him.
“Ready for lunch?” he asked, giving the nipples a rest, and Daff huffed impatiently.
“I told you I’m busy.”
“Not leaving till you eat,” he said in that terse way of his, and she shoved a stray strand of hair out of her face before sighing.
“What did you bring?” she asked, recognizing that the fastest way to get rid of him was to just get this over with.
“Couscous, grilled chicken, and some fruit.”
“That sounds”—delicious—“nice.”
He shrugged and started opening up the containers he’d laid out on the counter. He’d placed everything on a tea towel, which he’d brought with him, and she found the gesture unexpected and really thoughtful.
“Hmm. You can eat healthy without starving yourself,” he pointed out as he began to heap a large pile of cold couscous onto one of the plates. He stabbed a piece of grilled chicken with his fork, dumped it onto the plate, and pointedly put it down in front of her. Daff’s eyes widened as she took in the huge portion.
“Eat,” he commanded, stabbing his fork in her direction. Daff cleared her throat and sat down before delicately dipping her fork into the fluffy pile of couscous and lifting it to her mouth.
God, it was good.
“This is delicious,” she said around a mouthful of the stuff, and he merely grinned in response. He’d garnished the grain with cucumber, olives, tomato, avocado, feta cheese, coriander, and some lemon juice, and it tasted light and fresh and very satisfying.
He grunted suddenly and reached into the bag to produce a couple of bottles of water, which he plonked down between them. Daff didn’t say anything, merely nodded her thanks. She was starting to understand that Spencer didn’t need much in the way of conversation, and Daff—the consummate talker—was strangely okay with that.
They both devoured their lunch before speaking again.
“I was wondering if we should have the parties out of town. Plett, maybe?” Spencer said after taking a sip from his water.