Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Don’t,” Kennedy said sharply. “I mean . . . does she . . . ?”
“No, dude,” Ian said, his tone kind as he delivered the blow. “She’s moved on. And I’m pretty sure she’s got a thing for your brother.”
14
Monday, April 15
Kate had just shoved a mouthful of turkey club in her mouth when the flowers arrived.
Her morning gyno appointment had put her behind on nearly everything, and it was close to two by the time she managed to find a moment to shovel in lunch at her desk.
Cheeks still full, she waved thanks at the delivery guy. She dug around in the enormous bouquet of yellow roses for the card. Working for three dudes, flowers weren’t a particularly common delivery around here. Usually the guys received booze, gourmet gift baskets of pears, or meat-of-the-month-club type stuff. But every now and then some vendor sent an obscene flower display with the hope of getting noticed and remembered the next time Wolfe was in the market for new software or office decor.
She found the card and pulled it out, muttering a curse as a thorn grazed the side of her thumb. Kate stopped chewing for a moment when she saw the name on the card. Kate Winslet.
She swallowed, then smiled, already knowing who the flowers were from.
Jack.
She was both pleased and . . . a little surprised.
She hadn’t really known what to think after their date Saturday. The dinner? Excellent. The opera? Fabulous. Maybe not something she was dying to do again, but she’d thrilled in the novelty of it, even if that particular art form wasn’t her passion.
The kiss, though—yes, she’d kissed Jack Dawson—had been fine.
That’s it. Just . . . fine.
She pulled the card out of the envelope.
Dinner this weekend?
Huh.
She flicked the card thoughtfully, trying to figure out how she felt about the fact that Jack was still interested, though she could have sworn he’d found their first kiss a little meh as well.
Kate reached for her cell phone, intending to ask Lara and Sabrina for their opinion on her next move, when she saw Kennedy headed her way. He looked as though he wanted to continue to his office, but at the last minute he detoured to her desk, his eyes on the bouquet.
“Hey!” she said. “How was your lunch with Claudia?”
“I’ve had better.” He nodded at the flowers. “What’s the story there?”
She hesitated only a moment before handing him the card. Instead of taking it, he snagged her wrist.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Oh. Yeah. Hazard of roses.” She smiled, but he didn’t smile back, his eyes on the thin line of red running along her thumb.
He looked up. “You got a Band-Aid?”
“There’s a first aid box in the kitchen, but it’s fine. A Band-Aid will annoy me.” She forced herself to take steady breaths, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the way her body seemed to come alive at his touch.
He looked back at her hand, finally registering the card it was holding. His gaze darkened slightly, and she knew he knew who it was from. Kennedy’s fingers moved, as though to release her, then they lingered, the pad of his thumb resting against the delicate skin of her inner wrist.
Her breath caught, and she watched his face for any sign that he registered her pulse was moving far too fast.
“So the opera was a success.”
“I liked it.”
“Liked, not loved?”
“Well, it was no ballet,” she said with a smile.
“Ah yes. The appeal of a first love.”
“Nothing like it.”
Their gazes locked and held, and Kate became uncomfortably aware that they were in the middle of the office, with her boss basically holding her hand. Only he wasn’t just her boss, he was also her sort-of-boyfriend’s brother. To say nothing of the fact that he had Claudia . . .
Kate tried to jerk her hand away. His fingers tightened for just a moment as though reluctant to let her go. Then he released her, his hand falling to his side.
“So lunch was no good, huh? Where’d you go? I’ll cross it off my list.”
“I forget the name. Some French bistro. Claudia picked it.”
Kate studied him. It wasn’t like Kennedy to forget the name of anything.
“Bad food?”
“No, the food was fine.”
“Okay, but you said you’d had better . . .”
He scratched his forehead and looked tired. “Let’s just say I prefer meals where I’m not delivering the it’s not you, it’s me speech.”
Her eyes went wide. “You and Claudia broke up?”
He shrugged.
“What happened? When the four of us had dinner, you seemed . . .”
His eyebrows lifted. “Yes? How did we seem?”
“I don’t know. Content, I guess. Well suited.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Is there a jab in there somewhere?”
“No,” she snapped, irritated. “I said you were content. Isn’t that all you want out of life?”
He stepped forward. “No, Kate. That’s not all I want out of life.”