This Is Crazy Read online Natasha Madison (This Is #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: This Is Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
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“Zara,” he says my name, and my stomach flips. “I’m coming into New York. I’m picking you up, and I’m taking you out for dinner.” He doesn’t stop there. “You can call it whatever you want to call it.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I tell him, my hands getting clammy.

“Well then, I guess we’ll find out,” he says. “What is your favorite food?”

“Um …” I say, not sure I can put a sentence together. What is going on with me? I think the tequila was spiked. Fucking Justin probably put moonshine in there.

“I’ll surprise you,” he says, and I want to tell him I hate surprises. I loathe them. I would water board a person to know. “So can you text me your address?”

“I can meet you,” I tell him. “I mean, I’ll already be in the city at work,” I say.

“You can either give me your address, or I can call in a couple of favors and get it.” If he was sitting in front of me, I would glare at him. “Fine. Challenge accepted.”

“That wasn’t a challenge,” I tell him. “It was me thinking. Give a woman a second to think.”

“Sleep tight, Zara,” he says, ignoring me. “I’ll see you soon.” It’s the last thing he says before hanging up. I look down at the phone and see that it’s the screensaver of Zoe and me in Paris standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. When a text comes in, I see it’s from Evan.

Sweet Dreams, Zara.

I think about answering it, but I don’t. Tossing the phone on the bed, I get up and walk into the bathroom, flipping on the light to the small en suite. Well, it’s big for New York but small for me. The huge deep white tub sits in front of the door next to the glass shower. The tiled floor cold on my feet as I walk toward the tub and turn on the water. I turn to the two hanging shelves that I had added when I moved in, lighting the four candles on each. I undress, turning off the light and taking in the glow of the candles. I get into the hot tub and lean back, closing my eyes. This usually relaxes me. I usually just let it wash over me, but all I can see are the different pictures of Evan going through my mind. The one with him in a Batman shirt. The one of him in a suit. The one without a shirt. My face starts to get hotter and hotter, and I give up on the bath. I get out, drying myself off, and l slip into bed.

The next day goes by so fast I don’t even notice the time, nor do I stop to eat. But when the door opens and slams shut, I get up from my desk and go to check.

“I’ve been trying to call you all day long.” I see Zoe kicking off her shoes and coming in with a brown bag. “Why haven’t you picked up?” she asks me, and I walk downstairs.

“I am going nuts,” I tell her. “Not only is there the gala for the Horton Foundation that everyone wants to get fitted for, but people are also starting to get ready for the NHL awards. Then there are two red carpet events coming up,” I say, reaching out and grabbing the bag from her. “Did you get me Chinese?” I ask hopeful, and she looks at me.

“Of course, I got you Chinese. Go set up in the living room, and I’ll get the plates,” she says, going to the kitchen while I walk into the living room. I haven’t really done anything to it since Karrie and Matthew lived here. It looks like it’s been in a magazine ad. I walk into the room, looking out the bay windows at the night sky. A hidden bench where I’ve curled up with a book more than once sits under the window. The room has one color, all white, but the couch is a huge U-shaped deep brown. A million throw pillows are placed all over, but what gets me is the fireplace right in front of the couch. It’s old school and hand-carved in white marble. A huge screen television sits on top of the fireplace. The coffee table is a huge square. I have a tray on there where I put all the remotes and glasses and stuff.

I turn on the television and find the Dallas game playing again. I don’t change the channel, and I sit, opening the bag to take the food out. “Oh, you got so much food,” I say over my shoulder as I take out the fried rice, lo mein, beef and broccoli, sweet and sour chicken, and kung pao shrimp. A bag of wonton and some egg rolls. “Jesus, how many people are we expecting?” I ask her when she comes into the room.


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