Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
His attention shifts above to the measly twenty-watt bulb I swapped in, casting a dim and ominous glow over my interrogation area.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Am I in trouble?” He’s piecing this entire charade together quickly.
“I guess we’ll find out.” I gesture toward the chair again.
With another head-to-toe scour of my outfit, he strolls over to the chair. He eases in slowly, as if afraid it’ll collapse under his weight.
His focus latches on my shoes as I take measured steps around him. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” I reach down to collect one wrist, guiding his arm behind the chair. “I’m going to ask you a few questions.” I collect his other wrist and join it with the first. Moving with skill, I slide the handcuffs from my pocket and lock him in. “And you are going to answer truthfully, got it?”
“Did you just cuff me?” He tugs against the binding, testing the strength.
“I wouldn’t bother. These are regulation-grade police cuffs.” I circle around to stand in front of him. “Ready?”
His nostrils flare with the challenge. “Fire away.”
I lean back against the table—also tested for my weight—and adjust my stance, allowing my trench coat to part past my knee and show off my bare leg. It does the trick. Heat ignites in his gaze as I watch him ask the unspoken question—what’s underneath this coat? “The first day we met, did you purposely mislead me?”
“In what way exactly?”
“All your flirting, acting like you were attracted to me.”
He stares up at me through his heavy fringe of eyelashes. “No. I’ve already told you that.” His answer is firm, unyielding. He almost sounds angry that I’m questioning him again.
“What about wanting to buy Murphy’s so you could run it? Was that false?”
He exhales. “Yes, but—”
“Next question.”
He grits his teeth but stays quiet.
“Were you trying to hide the sale of Dieter’s building so you could get the project through approvals before anyone could cause problems?”
He opens his mouth, and I can sense the elaborate “it’s complicated” explanation coming, so I adjust my stance farther, letting my coat part more, until he gets a peek at the black lace beneath.
“Yes or no?”
He falters until his gaze shifts up to meet mine, as if deciding something. “Yes.”
I tsk. “Finally, some honesty.” I stand and circle him again, lingering at his side as I drag the tip of my fingernail along his jawline, down his neck, tracing his collarbone. “The night of the engagement party, were you trying to win me over as an ally because you knew you’d have that variance meeting?”
“No.”
I press against his flesh with my nail. “The truth, remember.”
“That is the truth. The absolute last thing I was thinking about that night was a stupid variance meeting. All I wanted was another chance.” His attention is locked on my face, his expression sober.
“But you knew about the meeting.”
“Yes.”
I shift behind him, lingering there a moment, leaving him in suspense over my next question, our next contact. Gooseflesh crawls over his neck as he waits. I smile. “It’s not that cold in here, is it?”
“You tell me.”
“Hmm … Good question.” I yank on my belt, letting the leather ends drop and the sides of my coat fall open. Stepping around to the other side, I stall just within his line of vision. “What do you think?”
A sharp hiss sails through his lips, his eyes burning as they take in the bra and panties set. “Can’t tell. Come closer?”
I want to. A handcuffed Garrett is impossible to resist. My thighs itch to feel his hips between them, but I hold back. “Who decided to rework the building plans and keep the original structure?”
His lips part, but then he stalls, looking up to see my smug smile. Seeing the answer there. “When did Richard tell you?”
“He came into the store last week.”
A long exhale sails from Garrett’s lips.
“Why’d you lie about that?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I told you it was my choice, that you’d see it as some other ploy, like the park project. I figured I’d give it time. Give you time to realize I’m not the slimy developer you think I am.”
Exactly what Shirley suspected. “Richard said he would have torn it all down. That you didn’t need to do any of this.”
“No, I didn’t need to. Though, I could argue that it has its own set of benefits.”
I have no interest in delving into those. All I want to understand are his motivations. “Why are you doing it?”
A small smile touches Garrett’s lips. “Contrary to what Shirley thinks, not every developer gets an erection for a bulldozer. I like old buildings.”
I knew that. I saw it in the way he studied the skyline in New York with genuine admiration, the way he spoke. That was the first time I felt like I might be seeing the real Garrett.