Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“You look gorgeous,” Jace says and draws back to look at me. When he looks up again, his eyes gleam with naked, raw desire.
An ache forms between my legs. I resist the urge to squeeze my legs together. I’ve become a slave to the lust I feel for Jace. Chris’s words flash through my mind. Fuck him and get it over and done with.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
Jace opens the passenger door for me and as I enter the car, I brush against him and a spark leaps through me. The door shuts and I’m glad for the chance to compose myself. I’m sure that my cheeks are pink and hot.
Jace enters the car and his cologne, manly, just like him, fills the car.
“I hope you like Lavelle.” Jace’s voice is a caress on my skin.
“I’ve never been,” I tell him. “But I’m sure I’ll love it.” Of course, I’ve heard about one of the most exclusive restaurants in Chicago but I never dreamed that I’d have dinner there. It hits me for the first time how different we are. Jace Anderson belongs to one of the most well-known families in the state. That fact is further driven home when we get to the restaurant and he greets at least half a dozen people as we walk to our table.
He pulls back the chair for me and I’m further smitten. Intelligent and a gentleman. I remind myself that we are boss and employee. The only reason we are having dinner together is because he feels bad that I’ve been thrown into the deep end with Sarah suddenly gone. And of course to celebrate Sarah and Steve’s new bundle of joy.
He smiles at me and I turn to mush.
“Sarah went home today,” Jace says. “I’m sure she won’t be getting much sleep in the near future, but it’s well worth it.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that about newborns,” I say, and can’t help the expression of horror that I make. Jace laughs. It’s deep and comes from inside him and it makes me smile.
“You don’t want to be a mom in the future?” he says.
Before I can answer, the server brings the menus. We order water and a bottle of wine. The server withdraws and we are left alone.
“You never answered my question,” Jace says.
“Oh yeah. The mom one,” I tease. “I’ll want to at some point… some distant point. How about you? Do you want to be a daddy?” It’s an odd conversation to be having with my boss and a new boss at that. Sarah going into labor at the office has given us an immediate intimacy and then there’s this crazy chemistry between us.
“I do but it’s not something that I actively think about,” Jace says. “Work is my priority right now.”
I nod. That is something I understand. “Me too.”
The waiter pours wine into our glasses. Jace raises his glass in the air. “To Sarah and Steve’s new family.”
We clink glasses and take sips, our eyes firmly glued to each other. How will I make it through this dinner without begging Jace Anderson to throw me over his shoulders like a caveman and take me home?
“Are you Chicago born and bred?” Jace asks.
“Yes, I think,” I tell him then explain further when I see the confusion in his face.
“My mother was never clear where she met my father when she gave birth to my brother and then me two years later.” My mother’s past is this huge black, drug-infested mystery hole. It was impossible to know whether she was being cagey about her past or she simply couldn’t remember. Drugs had messed up her memory and ability to care about important things, like dates and places. “We were in and out of foster care because she struggled with drug addiction.” I’m used to explaining this about myself and I do it in a matter-of-fact voice. I’m so used to saying it that I sometimes forget that it’s shocking to a lot of people.
“I’m sorry,” Jace says.
I shrug. “She loved us but the addiction was stronger.”
“You’ve turned out very well. I’m sure she’s proud of you,” Jace says.
“She probably is. In heaven.” I say this flippantly but the truth is that I still miss her. Yeah, she fucked up a lot but she never failed to let us know that we were loved and that she was trying her hardest to get better and to get us back home.
“I was born and raised here as well,” Jace said. “All of us kids worked at the clinic from the moment we turned fifteen.”
“Really? Doing what?” I ask, intrigued.
The waiter brings our food and I can’t wait for him to leave so that I can hear the rest of Jace’s story.
“Mostly cleaning and acting as messengers for the nurses,” he says. “My parents believed in instilling the idea of hard work from an early age.” I would never have thought that the Anderson kids had ever held cleaning rags in their hands.