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)
“Hi.” His smile is my favorite thing about this day so far.
His flawlessly tailored suit is black and again Tom Ford. It’s another three-piece, this time with a silvery blue shirt and a complementing tie. François would eat this man alive. Most of the male models I know are slim or “gym” muscled. François would love the challenge of dressing this man with his big, tight body. I love the challenge of him for a completely different reason.
He leans down to kiss my lips lightly. I enjoy the brief contact, but don’t press for more. I’ve decided I’m just going to let this happen. Let him set the pace. He knows I’m ready when he is.
“You look…” He trails off, tilting his head to one side like he’s considering. “You’ll do, I guess.”
I chuckle, pleased by the way his eyes belie his words. He hasn’t looked anywhere but at me since I opened the door. It feels good. I’ve lived with this shell so long, I take it for granted except as a means to my ends, but tonight he makes me happy that I look the way I do. Happy that my appearance pleases him.
“So where to tonight?” I ask from the backseat of the car as we pull off.
“There’s this new seafood place called Minnow. Have you heard of it?”
“Yeah.” I whistle. “Tough to get a last-minute reservation. It’s on everyone’s list right now.”
“Yeah, tough unless you’re a sheikh.” Trevor takes my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “One of Walsh’s friends got me a reservation on short notice.”
“Sheikh Kassim?”
He nods. “Yeah, he loves Walsh.”
“Are you okay with such a popular place?” He bends his brows into a frown. “We could go somewhere less public, if you prefer.”
“It’s fine.” I twist my fingers so it’s my turn to rub his knuckles. “I’m excited about tonight. I haven’t been out in a few weeks.”
“Since the quarterback?” His voice remains neutral, but his eyes tell me he doesn’t like the thought of me with Rip. I can’t undo my relationship with Rip, or with any of the men I’ve known over the years.
“Yeah. Not since Rip.”
“How did he take the breakup?”
“He’s still taking it.” I laugh, but there isn’t much humor because I actually feel bad about how things with Rip ended. Not bad that I called it off, but that it ever started in the first place.
“Is he giving you problems?” Trevor’s frown grows heavier and darker.
“And if he was giving me problems?”
“I’d solve them.”
He doesn’t grin or follow up with some phrase to lighten the moment. He leaves it heavy with his honesty. He means it. I haven’t had anyone interested in solving my problems for me in a long time. On the one hand, it has taught me independence. On the other, it’s left me in many ways alone.
“We’re here.” He steps out, reaching a hand back to help me from the car. This place opened only a few weeks ago and became an instant hot spot. It’s crawling with celebrities, so I’m hoping I’ll go unnoticed. New York isn’t LA. The paparazzi aren’t assaulting you as soon as you step into the street. They’re more subtle, but no less thorough. I’m sure there’s some camera discreetly aimed my way right now. I hope this outfit looks good on Page Six.
A long line stretches from the maître d’s podium to the door. I see a few flashes and recoil inside. I don’t want everyone speculating about what Trevor and I are to each other. They probably don’t know too much about him, so they’ll dig, and I already know what they’ll find. A brilliant philanthropist and businessman with a conscience. A good man. If I’m honest, I really don’t want them speculating on what he sees in me. Probably because I’m not sure myself.
“Let me check on the reservation.” He grabs my hand and starts forward.
“Can I wait here?” I ask. “It’s a bit of a crowd up there, and I just saw a few people I don’t want to run into.”
He searches my face, looking for the solid truth behind my flimsy excuse.
“Okay.” He leans down to kiss my temple. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here.” I reach up to run an affectionate hand over the short ginger hair.
With a quick grin, he sets off, broad shoulders pressed forward, and people stepping aside because he walks like they should move when he’s coming through.
Someone touches my hair. Random touches in public make me nervous. I’ve had stalkers before. I didn’t mean it when I threatened Trevor with a restraining order, of course, but I’ve had to do it before. More than once, and someone touching my hair reminds me just how vulnerable I am in situations like this. I jerk my head away from the touch, looking around to see who dared.