Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I want more time with you.”
“Can we take it slowly?” she asked after a moment.
“I’ll hate that.” I lifted her hand and kissed it. “But yes.”
She chuckled. “Always so impatient.”
“Please let me take you to your place and pick up what you need. You can go home tomorrow night after work.” I threw out my ace. “Hedgy will miss you too much.”
She met my stare with a roll of her eyes, but I won.
“Fine, I’ll go home tomorrow night.”
I handed her the kitten and put the car in drive. It was impossible to stop my smile, though.
Monday morning, Darryl picked us up, and I tried not to laugh when Magnolia asked him to drop her off two blocks from the office. As we pulled away from her, I looked back, hating the thought she was walking in the gloomy weather. Then I shook my head, realizing she was a grown woman, had an umbrella, and was very capable of looking after herself. Still, I didn’t relax until I heard her come into the office. She left briefly, returning with my coffee, which she placed on the desk.
“Your new warmer will be here this week,” she informed me. “The back order has finally cleared.”
“Good,” I grunted, staring at my computer.
“What’s wrong?”
“How strict is your no touching during office hours policy?” I asked. She had given me a list of rules this morning after breakfast. No touching, no kissing, no sexual advances during office hours. I didn’t like the new rules, even though I knew she was right. “I mean, you’re not coming home with me, I only get to see you during the day, and I can’t even kiss you?” I deleted an email with a sharp tap of my finger. “Doesn’t seem fair.”
I heard a low giggle, and I looked up, glaring. “What is so funny?”
She rounded the desk and cupped my face. “You are, Bane. You’re acting like a child who had his favorite toy taken away.” Bending down, she kissed me, her lips soft on mine. I gripped her hip, kissing her back, the taste of her an aphrodisiac to my senses. I groaned deep in my chest and pulled her closer, but she stepped back.
“The occasional kiss,” she relented. “And we’ll see each other in the evenings if you want.”
“I want all the time,” I insisted, reaching.
She evaded my hands. “Drink your coffee. You have a meeting in twenty minutes.”
Then she walked away, her hips swaying. She wore pants today, of all things. With the brocade vest and the lacy blouse. The outfit did something to me.
She did something to me.
And I was fucked.
By lunchtime, I was in a foul mood. My meeting this morning had been unsatisfactory and frustrating. The client was adamant about his desires, and the fact was, his ideas were horrible and would never work. Anderson almost lost it when he expressed his “tweaks” to the already approved design, and it took everything in me to remain calm when he discussed his vision for the maze to the side of his office building. Along with his Zen garden in the middle and the types of trees he wanted. None of which would grow in this region of Canada. Plus the fact that he didn’t have the space for a maze or a Zen garden. I tried to explain the cost of upkeep alone since one of his desired choices for the plants he wanted would need constant watering, but he refused to listen. The meeting ended with neither side happy and me with an impossible task on my hands. Give him what he wanted without giving him what he wanted. It was a challenge that was going to drain me.
Then the three of us met, going over budgets, staff, office problems, and every other headache running a business entailed. When I got back to my office, I discovered Myers wasn’t at her desk. My sandwich was waiting, a fairly warm cup of coffee beside it, so I knew she hadn’t been gone long. I hated the fact that I hated she wasn’t there to give me one of her smiles or her funny greetings. When she came back, I was busy on the phone with a client, adjusting a budget for them. Myers brought in a fresh cup of coffee, slid a cookie onto the desk beside it, and shut my door, leaving me the silence I needed to think the problem through. A short while later, I flung open my door, throwing a pile of folders on her desk. “Myers, I need numbers,” I snapped.
She looked up, not at all perturbed by my tone. It occurred to me she was no longer scared of me. That wasn’t good. Everyone was frightened of me, and I needed her to be—at least at the office. I wondered if I could get her back in line, but I had a feeling it was too late.