Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“How’d it get out so fast? I haven’t told anyone because I’ve been hoping you’ll rethink the breakup.”
“What can I say? We live in a bubble. Hard for people like us to keep secrets.” I check a chip in my manicure. “And I have thought this through, Rip. I told you that last week when we ended things.”
“But I thought maybe we could just take some time apart and figure things out.”
“I just think we’ve come to the end of our road.” I draw a deep breath, making a conscious effort to gentle my voice. “We can still be friends, but that’s all I want.”
“Is there someone else?”
Trevor Bishop’s face, the square jaw and lean cinnamon-scruffed cheeks dented with those damn dimples, splatters itself all over my mental canvas. Not a day has gone by since that man traipsed off to Cambodia that I haven’t thought about him. It’s really irritating.
“There’s no one else, Rip. Just me. It just needs to be me for a while.” I let that sink in before checking to make sure he understands. “Okay, Rip? Friends?”
“Friends for now, Sofie,” Rip says. “But you know how hot it was between us. I’ll try not to rub it in when you come knocking wanting more.”
Don’t flatter yourself. Don’t hold your breath or your dick.
“M’kay. Take care, Rip.”
Why did I answer? His call has thrown my schedule off, and I need to get across town to meet with François’s team about the unveiling of the Goddess scent. I’m gathering a few things to work on in the car while I ride when my cell rings again. I don’t recognize the number, but I called a few artisans for Haven. It could be one of them returning my call.
“Hello?” I don’t give more information than that in case it’s a wrong number.
“Sofie, hi.”
That voice pours over me like a vat of honey, and just those two words run down my body, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their sweet, sticky wake. I’d know that voice anywhere.
“Who is this?”
Trevor’s deep chuckle rumbles from the other end.
“You don’t recognize my voice, Sofie? I’m hurt. Truly.”
“How’d you get my private number?”
“I’m a well-connected man.”
“Are you back in New York?” Even though I have no intention of seeing him, I’m curious if it’s even a possibility.
“Got back yesterday. Sorry it took me so long to call.” A small pause hangs between us. “I read that you dumped the quarterback.”
“Did you now?”
“Which brings me to the reason for my call.”
“Which is?” I brace myself to refuse anything this man asks of me.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
“I’m busy tonight.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Uh…the next night?”
“Sorry, no.” I heave a sigh. “We talked about this. Go find yourself a Marlee.”
“But I want myself a Sofie.” I hear the grin in his voice and want to slap myself across the mouth for grinning back.
“We all want things we can’t have.”
“That’s not my mantra.”
“You have a mantra? How very pretentious of you.”
The low-timbered laugh from the other end tightens my nipples in the silk cups of my bra.
“I can’t remember ever being called pretentious before.”
“Oh, then I’m your first. I promise to be gentle with you.”
“No.” His voice dips and goes a shade darker. “Don’t be.”
Damn, it’s hot in here. I fan myself with the report Marlee sent over this morning.
“I have to go, Bishop. I’m already late for a meeting.”
I hang up before anything else on my body goes wet or tight. Just two minutes of that Southern drawl has me making battery-operated plans for tonight.
“Was that Rip again?” Stil places a mint green and white shopping bag on the corner of my desk. “Here’s a few pieces from Kerris Bennett’s Riverstone Collection, like you asked for.”
“Oh, thanks. Yeah, she and I are supposed to meet soon. Can you confirm?” I peer into the bag at the three boxes stacked neatly. “And, no, that wasn’t Rip. Well it was, and then it wasn’t. Two calls.”
“Rip’s still not getting the message?” Stil drops into the seat facing my desk. “Even after we went to the trouble of leaking the story to the Post?”
“Yeah, even still. I’m done being subtle and sweet.” I grab my floppy leather clutch and my iPad, standing. “Remind me again why I’m not at least experimenting? Men aren’t worth the trouble.”
“I’m sure I can find you some girl-on-girl.”
“No, thanks.” I pair a wicked smile with a wicked wink. “I like riding stick too much.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Stil giggles. “You said it was and then it wasn’t Rip. Who was the other call?”
“Oh, the other call.” I lower my head and bend over, focusing on slipping my heels back on. “That was Trevor Bishop.”
“Ooooh.” Stil rubs her hands together vigorously enough to make fire. “We like him.”
I make my face stern.
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.” Stil’s face softens. “I can tell you do, Sofie. You should give him a chance. I would.”