Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Like I said, boldness is all I know.
I quickly claim it and bring up the home screen. Go to contacts. Add my name and number. And I dial myself so I can save hers. Stalkerish? Absolutely not. I’m just saving myself the time and hassle of calling the firm she works for to get her contact details. You know, just in case she forgets to give me her card.
I rest her phone back on the table, my eyes on her bag. I look back at the door. Think. I’m in her handbag before I know it, finding what I’m looking for quickly. I pull out her wallet, open it, my shaking hands not helping me. I spot her driver’s license and pull it out, scanning the small card. And, horribly, my heart sinks a little. Twenty-six. She’s twenty-six. It’s confirmed. Way too young for me, and since she’s asked the question, she’s concluded I must be too old for her. “God damn it,” I breathe, deflating.
I hear a knock at the door. Fuck. I shove her wallet back in her bag and quickly reclaim her portfolio.
She enters, and I look up on a smile. It’s probably a guilty smile. Yes, I just totally violated your privacy. Yes, I’m wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.
My smile falls when I detect a change in her disposition. She seems more together. Resolute. I shouldn’t have let her use the ladies’.
She walks to the couch opposite, completely disregarding me when I make space for her to pass and join me on this couch. So she’s going to approach me professionally now, is she? Force herself to remain together?
Not if I have anything to do with it.
“Are you okay?” I ask, wanting her to know I’ve read the situation. That I’m aware.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
I withdraw as a result of her snappy reply.
“Would you like to show me where your intended project is so we can start discussing your requirements?” she asks.
My eyebrows jump up of their own volition. I’d happily discuss my requirements all day long, and it doesn’t involve any kind of designing. “Sure.” I fetch my mobile from my desk and follow her to the door, quickening my stride to pass her. Woo her in the traditional way, Ward.
I bow as I hold the door open, unleashing one of my most dazzling smiles. She’s not amused. Oh, playing hard to get now, huh? Well, unlucky for you, Miss O’Shea, I’m quite taken by you. You only have yourself to blame.
My eyes fall to the base of her back when she passes, and my hand is resting there before I can stop myself. Her shoulders jump up, her breathing becomes rushed, and she increases her pace, severing our contact, but she comes to an abrupt stop when she reaches the summer room. She doesn’t know which way to go.
“Do you play?” I ask, pointing to the courts outside the window.
Her laugh is pure and joyful, and it feels good to know I did that. Made her laugh. She’s loosening up. A point to you, Ward. “No, I don’t.”
I grin, happy with myself. More so when her smile widens. Kill me now. Her beauty just increased tenfold. “You?” she asks as we walk on.
“I don’t mind the odd game, but I’m more of an extreme sports kinda guy.”
“What sort of extreme sports?”
The kind that’ll make your eyes water. “Snowboarding, mainly, but I’ve tried my hand at whitewater rafting, bungee jumping, and skydiving. I’m a bit of an adrenalin junky. I like to feel the blood pumping.” I need to do that shit more often. Get the adrenalin pumping in healthier ways.
I study her for a few pleasurable moments. This is nice. A normal conversation about normal stuff with a beautiful woman.
“Extreme.”
I can’t help myself. “Very extreme.”
She loses her breath. She’s struggling. Might even blurt out something inappropriate again. That façade she returned from the ladies’ with? Bye-bye. “Shall we continue?” I ask. Her eyes close briefly—gathering herself—and when she opens them, I make sure the first thing she sees are mine. And she searches them. What is she hoping to find?
“Yes, please,” she practically breathes.
I smile and lead her into the bar, not surprised to find Sam propped on a stool; he’s a millionaire with nothing to do but fill his time with kink. But it’s unusual to see Drew here at this time of day. I give them both a hello slap on the shoulder. “Guys, this is Ava. Ava, this is Sam Kelt and Drew Davies.”
“Good afternoon.” Drew, ever the cold one, takes Ava in from top to toe. Yes, I agree, mate, she looks all wrong around here.
“Hi,” Ava says.
“Welcome to the pleasure dome.” Sam raises his beer, and I roll my eyes. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”