Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
She’d probably hate me for it, but someone had to tell her the truth.
“So he’s what…twenty-eight…thirty?”
“Twenty-nine. He was a year ahead of me.”
“He’s jerking you around.”
Her jaw dropped. “You don’t even know him.”
“Don’t need to. No stand-up, twenty-nine-year-old man who loves a woman is going to set her free because he needs to find himself. Especially on fucking Valentine’s Day.”
She straightened her spine. “And you know this because you’re such a stand-up guy?”
“Didn’t say that. In fact, I’m the opposite of a stand-up guy. Never even had a girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. I make sure I get rid of them beforehand so there’s no expectation of candlelight and romance. That’s why I can say with certainty that your ex doesn’t really need a break to find himself. Because it takes an asshole to know an asshole.”
Annalise’s blue eyes blazed. Her lips pursed, and her cheeks flushed with anger. If I’d been uncertain I was the asshole I’d just admitted to being before, the fact that seeing her getting pissed off made my dick twitch would’ve proved it.
She stared at me for a solid two minutes and then got up to stand at the foosball table. “Let’s go,” she said. “I feel the need to kick your ass.”
***
It was hours later before we made any real progress. But once we started, we got on a roll, and the two of us really started gelling. I’d say one thing, she’d take it and run for a while, that would spark an idea in me, and in the last half hour, we’d come up with a name, sketched out a rough idea for a logo, and jotted down a dozen complementing ad concepts.
Annalise yawned.
I took a look at my watch. “It’s almost midnight. What do you say we call it a night? We have a good start. I can work on the logo tomorrow morning and get something drawn up on the Mac. Maybe we can toss around some more ideas Wednesday so we can nail down which ones we want to present to Jonas.”
She leaned down and slipped on her heels. “That sounds good. I’m wiped out. And I think I may be starting to get a hangover from those shots earlier, if that’s even possible.”
Bent over like that, her blouse gaped, and I had a clear view right down her shirt. The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to turn away. But you already know I’m an asshole. Plus…she had a black lacy bra on. Black lace against pale skin is my kryptonite—something about the contrast let my imagination run wild with a cook in the kitchen, whore in the bedroom fantasy.
Which had me thinking…
I bet she’d look great in a chef’s hat and stilettos.
I definitely needed to get laid. Not a good idea to be fantasizing about someone at work, no less a woman I planned to annihilate. The news of the merger might have deflated my perpetual hard-on, but apparently Miss O’Neil had pulled me through that dry spell. It wasn’t the first time my dick had perked up around her.
I diverted my eyes in the nick of time, a half second before she looked up at me.
Her smile was genuine. “We did good tonight. I’ll admit, I wasn’t so sure we could work together.”
“I’m easy to work with.”
She rolled her eyes—a common response to my shtick, I’d noticed. But this time, it was more playful than real.
We packed up what we’d brought into the bullpen, and Annalise wrapped the leftover pizza in some tinfoil she found in a drawer.
“Can I borrow the Sharpie you were using to sketch before? I want to label these.”
I reached into my pocket and handed it to her. In big, bold letters, she wrote across the front of the silver foil: NOT MARINA’S.
“She’s going to think I did that.”
She smirked. “I know. I agreed you were easy to work with. I didn’t say you weren’t an asshole. I saw you looking down my shirt before.”
I stilled, unsure how to react to her comment, and closed my eyes. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor told me when it was safe to open them. A few steps from the door, she spoke without stopping or turning around. But I could tell from her voice she was amused.
“Good night, Bennett. And stop watching my ass.”
Chapter 10
* * *
Annalise
I hadn’t been to the gym in more than three months.
Andrew was a creature of habit and went daily at six a.m. sharp. I’d tried to join him at least three days a week when we were together, even though I preferred to exercise in the evening. But after our break started, it became awkward to see him there. We’d wave and say hello. Once or twice we even chatted. But the goodbye at the end of our conversation made my heart ache all over again. I’d stopped going for my sanity.