Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
I threw my head back and laughed. “It’s terrible, and you know it.”
“I’m leaving,” he huffed, chomping a biscuit as he burrowed deeper into the sofa cushion.
“Stay.” I caressed his jaw tenderly.
Chance smiled.
And he stayed.
For five nights and counting.
Every morning I told myself it was the last day, but every night I hoped it wasn’t. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or what it said about me.
Then again, this was temporary, so…no harm, no foul.
Right?
“What is going on? Are you ill? Richard says you haven’t been in your office this week.”
“My secretary talks too much,” I grumbled without heat. “I’m fine and I’m here now. What’s up, Maxi?”
I adjusted my earbuds and wandered to the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Thames. I might not have the biggest office at the top of the building, but it was still a great view…even on a cloudy April morning. I could see the dome of St. Paul’s on my right and Tower Bridge on my left. Pedestrians looked like tiny ants from here, bustling and rushing to get to work or to the next stop on their tour.
My office in Toronto had been laughably small in comparison. I’d been ultra careful not to expand too quickly or to take on more than I could afford. It had seemed wise at the time. I’d been newly engaged to a woman whose career in freelance fashion journalism demanded a significant amount of travel. One of us had to be stable. That was me. Mr. Stable.
However, conservativism didn’t translate when you were trying to launch a new enterprise. I’d muddled through for a year, closing old accounts at home while trying to find a foothold in a dynamic industry in a new country. Somewhere along the line, I’d clued in that life was all about perception and illusion—the illusion of success mattered as much as stability.
I’d heard once that big-name clients liked physical evidence that they’d entrusted their industrial planning to a successful corporation on the rise. So shortly before my divorce was final, I took a gamble and sprang for a small office in an elite location. I hired two of the finest industrial engineers in the UK, a talented architect, and a chatty, albeit loyal and fiercely organized secretary, and hit the pavement hard.
A few years later, I was pleased to report that my instincts had been correct. My clientele and staff had grown to the point that I could easily justify the mews house in Kensington, my sweet office view, and taking a day or two off without explaining myself.
Okay, maybe not that last part.
Apparently, when you made a habit of being at your desk before seven a.m. and not leaving until at least six p.m., people noticed when you ducked out early. Well, my secretary noticed. And since Maxine was the kind of friend who befriended secretaries, she now kind of sort of knew something was up.
“Nice try,” Maxine huffed. “Richard’s dead worried about you. But he says you were smiling when you came in this morning, so…it can’t be too bad, yeah?”
“I’m fine,” I repeated.
She gasped on the line. “You sneaky bugger. You’re seeing karaoke boy, aren’t you? The bloke from California. What’s his name again?”
“Chance.”
Geez, it was a good thing she couldn’t see me now. I couldn’t even say his name without grinning like a fool.
“Take a chance on romance,” she singsonged. “I like him. You could have just said you were taking the week to shag your new lover boy, you know.”
I massaged the bridge of my nose. “I don’t see myself ever saying that, Maxi.”
She barked a laugh. “I don’t either. Not your style. But you’re obviously having fun.”
“I am.”
“Good for you. You should bring him ’round.”
I snorted as I pushed away from the window. “I don’t think so. He’s in London for another five days and—”
“You’re spending it in bed,” she intercepted. “Got it. And not that you need it, but you have my approval.”
“Gee, thanks.” I leaned over my desk, scrolled through a couple of new emails, and logged off. “I should go—”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“I just told you I did.” I grabbed my coat from the rack next to my door and mouthed, See you Monday to Richard, scurrying to the lift before he could stop me.
“No, you told me you were having fun. That’s different.”
I pressed the button and shrugged my coat on. I should have ended the call too. I knew better than to engage in circular conversations with Maxine, but I heard myself ask, “How?”
“One is temporary, and the other lasts longer. Maybe even…forever.”
“Are you reading romance novels again?” I huffed, rolling my eyes, though the gesture was lost in the connection.
“I am and will always be reading romance novels, thank you very much. And I know what I’m talking about. I’m not suggesting Chance is your happily-ever-after person, but I will say this…you’re very picky about people in general, Roman. Spending an entire workweek with a sexy new man is a good look for you. He could be someone special. I’m signing off before you disagree with me for the sake of being contrary ’cause you’re ornery like that.” She made a kissy sound, then chirped, “Later!”