Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Because she was grateful for the effort he’d put into helping her. Even if he decided against working on the project, with these plans she was far better off than she’d been before. And she was mature enough to feel gratitude.
She pushed to her feet and removed a blanket from the top shelf of the closet. Spreading it carefully so she didn’t wake him, she looked down at him for a long moment. With his face in repose, he looked like the younger man she’d known.
And more than taking her next breath, she wanted to touch him.
But she dragged herself away.
Going over the plans a second and third time, she made a few notes, then got down to the other pile of work while he slept.
It had been only an hour when he startled himself awake, sitting up straight, one side of his face lined with pillow marks. After lifting the corner of the blanket as though he couldn’t figure out where it had come from, he stared at her groggily, blinking, then his gaze traveled the room as if it would tell him why he was there.
He hadn’t spoken since he’d walked in, but she said to him, “The shower’s through that door, if you’d like to freshen up.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the closet. “And my brothers have some clothes in there for the odd occasions they need them. I’m sure there’s something that’ll fit you if you want to change.”
He heaved himself up from the sofa with a grunt, swaying slightly as if he was still woozy, and spoke in a raspy voice. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Then he disappeared behind the door.
When she heard the shower running, all manner of thoughts zipped through her mind and shimmied down her body. Good Lord, the man was in her shower. Only three feet away. Naked. And though her anger and lack of forgiveness for the past simmered somewhere inside her, she could barely keep herself from ripping off her clothes and joining him beneath the hot spray. The vision was so vivid she could almost feel his hands on her, almost taste his skin beneath her lips.
She actually groaned aloud. Why couldn’t she have a boyfriend? It would make everything so much easier if she had a man in her life. She wouldn’t be having all these thoughts.
But that near constant hum of desire inside her belied the words. A boyfriend would only make her feel guilty about the thoughts she’d inevitably have about Ransom.
Why did he have to be the best she’d ever known? Not just his cooking skills, but in every skill he possessed. And Ransom had been so very skillful with her body.
She damn near jumped from her chair, paced her office, then stood in front of the long windows with their view of the bay.
But she could still hear the pounding water.
She suddenly realized he hadn’t taken any of her brothers’ clothing into the bathroom. Seized by the need to open that door, she now had an excuse. Riffling through the various articles in the closet, she found something she was sure would fit.
Knocking first, loudly, she cracked the door a couple of inches. Steam billowed out. It bathed her face in warmth, but the perspiration on her skin had everything to do with him.
She slipped her hand through the slit she’d made and dropped the clothing on the floor. “You didn’t take anything in with you,” she called. “These should fit.”
He gave a muffled reply, and she snapped the door closed, rushing back to her desk—before she pushed it all the way open and walked in.
It seemed he stayed in there an interminable amount of time after the water shut off, though the clock told her it was only a matter of minutes. Impatiently, she drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair.
She held her breath when the door opened, then it came out in a rush when he stepped through. The scent of shampoo and body wash and masculinity drifted out with him.
Tailored slacks, fitted shirt. Every muscle defined. It was even worse than last night when he’d taken off the bomber jacket. She could make out the tight beads of his nipples through the material.
She held on to the chair for dear life. Because if she didn’t, she might jump into his arms. He was a magnet for her. It hit her then that all those years ago, they’d just been kids, even if he was ten years older. Now he was all man.
And she wanted him badly.
But she was a CEO, a professional at all times. So instead of throwing herself at him, she said ever so politely, “I read through your entire proposal, and everything looks excellent.”
He was more alert, his eyes brighter, his chin clean-shaven. Thankfully, she had men’s razors in the bathroom for her brothers.