Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
His tone is a warning, but his words are an admission.
He’s given me a piece of himself, something I suspect he keeps close to the vest. “I do, Nick,” I say softly. “I do.”
When he looks back at me, our gazes lock for a few, heady seconds. I can sense the fight in him. The resistance. The war.
It excites me more than it should.
And I hope I don’t become a little addicted to him.
Or more addicted than I already am.
David should be here any minute, so I use the time to admire the view out the floor-to-ceiling living room windows. “I never tire of the views of New York. This is stunning,” I say as I drink in the vista of my favorite city. New York stretches as far as I can see.
I catch Nick’s gaze and something dirty flashes in his eyes. A sexy gleam maybe. It sends a hot shiver down my spine. But then that after-dark look vanishes, replaced by a smile.
“Thanks,” he says, with obvious gratitude and a touch of humility too. “It’s a little different than what I grew up seeing.”
That’s an opening if I ever heard one, but before I can ask more, his phone buzzes from the living room table. After he grabs it, he says, “David’s in the elevator now.”
There’s no time to linger on growing up questions so I zero in on a practical matter. “What do you want me to call you? When we’re all here together?”
“Don’t call me Mr. Adams,” he says, bossy again.
Don’t ask. Just say thank you for the info. “Why?” I blurt out, as he heads to the door.
“I’d rather be Nick,” he says, his gaze lingering on me for another few seconds, before he says, “with you.”
Tingles rush down my spine, but I have to ignore them since it’s showtime.
Nick opens the door for David, who sputters in. His banker’s hair is a mess. His messenger bag is sliding off his shoulder. “I’m so freaking stressed! I just realized we have less than three weeks to get this all done,” he says, bug-eyed and frazzled.
David beelines for the couch, slumps down and blows out a long breath. It’s like he can’t even move.
With a practiced familiarity, Nick joins him and clasps a hand on his shoulder, a warm, reassuring parental move. “We’ll get it done.”
What would it be like to feel that from a father? I can’t quite remember anymore, and that’s part of the empty ache in my heart.
I look away. It hurts too much to witness.
I miss having that anchor in my life.
Fifteen minutes later, Nick has taken over with a kind of efficiency that I never knew was a turn-on till now.
Thanks, Nick, for being a sexy…doer. Damn you.
We’re seated at the kitchen island, huddled around David’s laptop. Nick types something into a spreadsheet. “There. Everything is set with the hotel,” he says, and it turns out Nick was the one who arranged to rent the ballroom at a boutique hotel. Funny, how I knew the fundraiser was being held at the Fox Walk Inn but didn’t know Nick had hooked up his son. But that’s only the tip of the iceberg of the things I didn’t know. “That should help, if we divide and conquer like this,” Nick says, then he looks up. “I’ll work on the guest list. And I’ll make some calls to my contacts and make sure they show up too.”
David relaxes. “Thank you. Mom has a few she’s talking to. I marked them off.”
“Of course,” Nick says, clearly diplomatic, like he doesn’t want to say something cutting about Rose.
He looks to me, running a hand along his stubbled jaw, as if the motion helps him sort through the freeways in his mind. “Layla, can you coordinate all the auction items?”
“Absolutely, Nick,” I say.
His lips twitch almost imperceptibly, then he turns to David once more. “You should do the shelter outreach since that’s your thing.”
“Perfect,” David says, then like a Golden Retriever who’s found a tennis ball, he pops up. “I’m going to start now. Little Friends is nearby, and I can take pictures that we can show during the auction. The director’s there in the evening. We’ll meet back here later?”
Which means Nick and I will be alone.
“Sure,” Nick says, tentative, perhaps caught off guard by David’s disappearing act.
Same here, but I push back. “If I’m making calls and your dad is too, why do we need to meet? We can just group chat later.”
Not that I don’t want to be alone with Nick. I definitely do, which is why I need to get the hell out of here.
David ruffles my hair, laughing. “Duh. To make sure it all worked out. Plus, you two should work together. Some of the peeps on the guest list are also donating items, so it just makes sense the two of you coordinate,” he says, then laughs. “Sheesh. Do I have to do everything?”