Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Targets?” Ginger laughs. “Seems that way. I have to say, I’m surprised.”
Why?” I ask. “They’re both gorgeous.”
“So is everyone else here,” Ginger says, taking a bite from a giant prawn.
“True enough.” Though I’m not feeling the part.
Yup. I’m back in that stupid high school gymnasium, standing against the wall, waiting to be asked to dance. I thought I’d outgrown that wallflower feeling, but here it is again.
I forgot how much I hated it.
Evangeline Livingston scurries toward Ginger and me. “Ladies, come with me. I want to introduce you to Alex.”
Alex Maxwell is the bestselling author of the Nash Beckett thriller series. I’ve never read any of them, but each book hits number one as soon as it’s released, and the series has spawned a multi-million dollar film franchise. I’ve never seen the movies, either.
“Aren’t we supposed to wait until he comes to us?” I ask.
“Alex is shy,” she says. “He’s a bit of a recluse. I’m going to prod him along.”
“Why us?” Ginger asks.
“The two of you are the most suited to him, I think. He has a master of fine arts and a Ph.D. in literature. You two are both well educated.”
“What about Rachel?” Ginger gestures. “She’s a physicist.”
“She’s not…” Evangeline bites her lower lip, as if she’s struggling to find the right words. “Just come with me, please.”
Why not? I’m here to meet these four men. That’s the whole point. I look down at the clingy gold number that Evangeline insists brings out my eyes—which are light brown, not gold—and my toes that are painted the same color and showcased in strappy sandals that make me feel way more Legally Blonde than I ever wanted to.
Ginger and I follow Evangeline to a cocktail table where Alex Maxwell nurses a drink that looks like bourbon or scotch. He’s the most brooding of the bunch, though they all have a certain darkness about them. Alex is dressed in a black suit and white shirt, no tie. Around his neck hangs a thin gold chain. Understated and sexy. His brown hair swoops over his forehead in an unruly wave.
“Alex”—Evangeline holds out her hand—“I’d like to introduce Ginger Swanson and Sienna Costello.”
Introduce? He already knows who we are, what we do, and practically how many pisses we take a day. Okay, not that last part, but the introductory bios Evangeline prepared about us were pretty explicitly detailed.
“Good evening, ladies.” Alex raises his eyebrows, showcasing gorgeous gold-green irises, but he doesn’t smile.
Does this man even want to be here?
As far as I understand, Alex and his buddies are footing the bill for the eight of us to stay on this private island. I assume they paid for the makeovers, the travel costs, the food…everything. I’m not sure what the billionaires expect, but… Doesn’t he want his money’s worth?
“Nice to meet you.” Ginger holds out her hand.
Alex shakes it formally. “Dr. Swanson. The dermatologist.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re Ms. Costello. The attorney.”
“Guilty as charged.” Whoa! That’s the same line I used when I met my ex. It just popped out.
That gets his lips to curve upward, but only slightly. It did the same for my ex, and we ended up hitting it off, getting engaged, and then—
“Congratulations on your most recent bestseller,” Ginger says, interrupting my thoughts.
He smiles more broadly this time. “Thank you. Do you ladies need a refill?” He nods to our champagne flutes.
“Not for me yet.” I gesture to his drink. “Don’t you like champagne?”
“Not especially. I’m a bourbon man.”
I nod. “I like bourbon too.”
“Indeed? What’s your favorite?”
I’m supposed to have a favorite? Whatever the bartender brings me, usually. “Four Roses.” It’s the first one I could think of.
“Four Roses is nice, though it’s a blend, which makes a flavor profile difficult.”
“What do you like?” I ask.
He brings his glass to his lips, takes a sip. “This is Angel’s Envy. It’s aged in port wine barrels which gives it notes of fruit and spice. It’s one of my favorites. Would you like to try it?”
“Uh…sure.” I take the glass from him and take a sip.
And oh my God…
The liquor dances across my tongue. It’s that good. The oak from the barrel mingles with the slight sweetness of the port and the irresistible smoky caramel of the bourbon itself. I swallow, and it warms my throat without the least bit of harshness going down.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“I think that may be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
Ginger lifts her eyebrows playfully. “You sure about that?”
Ginger is a classic beauty with dark hair and emerald-colored eyes. She’s also a world class flirt, apparently. My cheeks burn at her suggestion.
Alex doesn’t seem fazed by Ginger’s innuendo. “If you like this, you have to try Pappy Van Winkle’s. It makes this taste like rotgut.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Want to bet? Come to the bar. I’ll show you.”