Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“You really should rein in the talking about shit you don’t want me to hear.”
“I’m not an attorney, but I think I’m afforded an expectation of privacy in my office.”
He holds my gaze, opening the door between our offices with a flick of the handle. “Pretty sure this is still my office.”
I fire him a playful look.
“Excuse me.” Brandi pops her head around the corner. “Finance just called, and they need you in the conference room, Mr. Brewer.”
Jason and I exchange a grin. Saved by Brandi.
“Come on,” Jason says, motioning for me to follow him.
We follow Brandi down the hallway, and then the two of us step into the elevator. He doesn’t say a word until the doors close.
“Are you going to tell me about Friday night?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Nope.”
He nods, turning his attention back to the front of the elevator. “Is it a secret?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Seems like you do to me,” I say as the bell dings. I step off the elevator first and walk shoulder to shoulder with Jason down the hall. “What does finance want? I didn’t even grab my laptop.”
He swings the conference room door open. “Doesn’t matter.”
Then why in the world are we here?
When we enter, three men and one woman from finance are rising from their seats. Gannon, Tate, and a handful of staff from Brewer Group, the holding company for all Brewer companies and interests, are on a large screen at the front of the room. All heads turn to Jason as he walks in.
The respect he garners when simply entering a room is a match to my libido every freaking time.
“I tried to catch you,” Gannon says to his brother. “We’re going to have to reschedule this for tomorrow morning. This system keeps freezing and glitching; the tech team doesn’t know what’s happening. Hang on. The connection is flickering again. Fuck …”
The screen goes black.
Jason approaches the computer beneath the screen and turns the volume down. He hits mute before minimizing the screen. He answers the goodbyes from the staff leaving the room.
And then we’re alone.
The energy in the room shifts as he faces me again. The air is thick and warm, perfumed with his cologne. It’s a woodsy scent offset by a slight citrusy note.
It smells like possibilities and danger.
He slips his hands into his pockets and saunters around the room. He nibbles on the inside of his cheek, his brows pulled tight as he thinks.
“If you need me to attend tomorrow's meeting in your place, I can,” I say. “I don’t have anything that can’t be moved.”
“Are you sure you don’t have any personal calls about Friday that you might miss?”
I laugh, my face flushing. “Are we still discussing this?”
He stops on the other side of the oversized table and plants both palms against the stone. He levels his sights on me.
Something is brewing behind those gorgeous green eyes. Whatever it is, it’s causing a storm to roll across his features. The intensity in his gaze makes me shiver.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, keeping my attention pinned on him.
“You signed an NDA to work here, Miss Goodman.”
“Yeah.” I make a face at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, if you’re dating someone new, I need to be sure you’re not dating a competitor. Could be a conflict of interest.”
My chest shakes as I try to hold back laughter. “He’s not new.”
“Oh, really?”
“And he’s not a competitor, so no worries there.”
“You never know someone’s connections.”
He’s prodding, and it’s obvious. It’s also … interesting. We’ve had discussions before about dating—mostly that neither of us date much. But he’s never been so insistent on getting details.
Even though he’s digging in an area that doesn’t concern him, and I’d be pissed as hell if my former bosses acted this way, I don’t mind. Maybe it’s because our relationship is more personal than professional.
Or maybe it’s because the twinkle in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, placing my hands on the table and mirroring his posture. “Are we going to stand here until I break it all down for you?”
“Depends on how long it takes.”
“Might take all day.”
He drops a shoulder and tilts his head as if I’m deliberately being difficult and he doesn’t understand why.
“Who is he?” he asks.
“Do you really want to know?”
“How do you know this guy? How do you know he’s going to be nice to you? Is he safe?”
I sigh, rolling my eyes in frustration. “He’s my grandmother’s neighbor’s grandson. He’s an EMT if it matters. He has no interest in you or your business.” I can’t help myself. “He’s only interested in saving lives and giving people mouth-to-mouth.”
Jason’s eyes blaze.
I’ve hit a nerve. Unintentionally, I’ve struck a chord—one that I believe will have consequences. And by the heat radiating off him, I’m not sure what those consequences may be.