Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Huh.
“I appreciate the gesture.” I fold my arms. “Get on with it then. Name your terms.”
She considers it for a minute, biting the end of her thumb. I struggle like hell to look away.
“First thing you need to know is I’m only doing this for the money,” she says, like that’s some kind of crime. I’d have to be fucking nuts to believe that after all she’s done to blow me off, she’s actually interested in anything else. “And… and if you want us to appear in public or whatever, you need to run everything by me first. Give me fair warning. Don’t ever waltz into my store again and expect me to play ball.”
I deserved that.
“Done. No problem,” I say.
“And Dexter?”
I start, not expecting her to use my name.
There’s something hard in her eyes again now—the shyness has worn off, replaced by the familiar quiet anger that fueled her before. Guess talking like adults doesn’t mean she’s forgiven me for barging in on her at the store.
“You will not mess with my family,” she says crisply. “Stay the hell away from my nana unless I give you permission. Clear?”
“Crystal clear.” I nod slowly.
“I mean it. The second you approach them without my permission, the deal’s off.”
“In the unlikely event I lose my mind again, I’ll stand in front of your firing squad without a fight. Of course, that goes for you, too.”
“Trust me,” she says scornfully, “I have zero interest in your family. I’m not the one desperate to convince everyone we’re in love.”
“I’m only trying to convince one man, really.” I run my hand through my hair. That vulnerability returns, like she’s made of brittle glass. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened before. I had to get to you and I recognized your grandmother from the research I did.”
“Research? You looked me up?” Her eyes flash with disbelief.
“Like any good negotiation, I had to know who’s on the other side,” I say. “Obviously, it went too far. I shouldn’t have targeted your grandmother, but you weren’t talking and I had to get creative. I saw my chance and I improvised.”
“Improvised! You had to force me into a shit show, you mean?” She huffs and glances away, back over the white carpets. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Deal.”
“And you better not back out of the Sugar Bowl orders for your properties. That’s part of the arrangement, even if you didn’t include it in your little note.”
I chuckle before I can stop myself.
She’s fiery, all right, and I can’t say I hate it.
Truthfully, in this light with flaring tension coursing through both of us like lightning, I can’t say I hate anything about her at all.
There’s something brutally alluring about the ruddy hair and the forest-pool green of her eyes that makes me wish it wasn’t all make-believe. Just for one night.
Then again, I’ve always been a sucker for redheads with an attitude and emerald-green eyes.
Though the thought of getting involved with her in any way but a professional one makes my skin crawl, and I sit up straighter.
“Agreed,” I tell her, and some of the tension goes out of her shoulders. “We can write up a proper contract that includes all of our terms tomorrow. Just tell me everything you want included and I’ll pass it off to my lawyer. He can send it over promptly for review.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about the lawyer.” She huffs loudly, but she doesn’t look surprised. I don’t know why she would be—having a lawyer is practically a prerequisite for making a living in real estate, much less making a mockery of an arrangement like this.
“I’ve got a whole legal team, sweetheart.”
“Makes sense.” She rolls her shoulders and looks around, one soft curl falling down her front.
Right onto her chest—which I’m extremely careful not to look at.
Professionalism is key here. I’m not fucking Patton.
Unlike my spoiled punk of a baby brother, I have boundaries. I’ve spent years cultivating them like a pristine garden.
Even if she does look oddly alluring, sprawled out on my sofa beside me.
“With any luck, we’ll barely interact after tonight, Miss Winkley. Congratulations.”
She tilts her head toward me again, her lips quirking into a half smile. “While I’d love to agree with that, someone introduced himself to my nana, and she’ll never let me live it down if she doesn’t see you again.”
Shit. Right. I should’ve seen that coming.
“I can probably talk her into dinner,” she adds. “Just the three of us.”
“No problem. I can do dinner if it helps patch the holes I blew in your life.”
“It won’t. I’m letting you do the bare minimum. And you’ll have to be nice…”
What the hell? Why does it sound like she’s asking me to wrestle a lion?
“Are you doubting my ability to charm her?” I bite off.
“I’m doubting your ability to charm anyone without leaving behind hurricane damage,” she mutters, glancing away and picking at the holes in her hoodie. “She’ll ask lots of questions and you’ll have to talk.”