Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“You’re right,” I agree. Kathy, my boss, told me something along the same lines today after my first time on air.
“I’m always right.” He winks, and I can’t help but laugh. He watches me for a moment then shakes his head and sets his food aside. He picks up the paper bag he came out of the corner store with and pulls out a cardboard container and two red solo cups. “Keeping with the theme.” He hands me a cup. “Wine from a box.”
Laughing once more, I hold out my cup for him to pour me a drink. “You know the way to my heart.”
“I’m not upset you’re so easy to please.”
“I like cheap food and wine, but I’m definitely not easy,” I say in all seriousness.
“Noted.” He lifts his cup and I do the same. “Here’s to positive changes and settling in.”
“I’ll toast to that.” I touch my cup to his then take a sip, trying not to show exactly how gross it is.
“Wow, that tastes like I bought it from the corner store for four dollars,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and I laugh. God, when was the last time I laughed this much with a man who wasn’t Jamie?
“It’s not so bad.” I attempt to take another sip but end up gagging when the smell hits my nose.
“It’s worse?” He stands, taking my cup from me. “I’ll get you a glass of real wine when we leave here,” he promises and walks both cups and what’s left of the box to the trash. When he comes back, he nudges his knee against mine. “Eat up so I can show you the labyrinth and get you a drink.”
“Is there any chance that when you say you’re going to show me the labyrinth, you’re referring to the movie and actually mean you’re taking me to meet Jareth and Hoggle?”
His eyes flash with approval. “I don’t want to crush your dream, but unfortunately, David Bowie and that grumpy puppet won’t be around.”
“Darn, and here I was starting to think this might be a night to remember.”
“The night’s still young,” he rumbles, and I press my thighs together when I see a look of promise in his gaze.
Lord, I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter 3
Dakota
AFTER SHOWING ME the labyrinth, a cool area of the park with staircases going in all different directions we got back into his Benz and ended up at a small bar near my building, our table tucked into the window alcove away from everyone else.
“Favorite food?” he asks, leaning closer to me, my knees trapped between his powerful thighs as his body almost cages me in, making everything around us disappear.
For the last forty minutes or so, we’ve been playing this game, but even though the questions are completely innocent, they seem to be amplifying the undercurrent of sexual tension building by the minute.
“Tacos,” I answer before taking a sip of wine.
“Steak.”
“Red meat—not surprising.” I smirk as his lips twitch.
“Favorite song?” he asks.
“‘Hello’ by Adele. You?”
“’Runaway Train.’”
“Really?” I eye him doubtfully and he grins.
“Really. Now, favorite color.”
“Purple.”
“Not pink?”
“No.” I make a face.
I listen to him chuckle then watch his lips move as he speaks. “Black for me.”
“Again, not surprising.”
“It’s not?” He lifts his glass of amber liquor to his lips.
“Not at all. Black is a dominant color, and that seems to be your thing.”
“Dominance is my thing?” He raises one sharp brow.
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never put a label on myself before or had anyone else attempt to dissect me.” He sits back then eyes my almost empty glass briefly. “Do you want another?”
“Yes please.” I smile, and he skillfully moves my legs from between his to stand.
I hold my breath as he bends, skimming his nose along my cheek, and then I close my eyes as he whispers, “Be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” I say breathlessly, catching the small smirk on his lips as he leans back. I watch him move across the bar, noting I’m not the only woman admiring all that is him. I pick up my glass and turn toward the window that looks out over the street and smile as a couple passes, holding hands with a little boy between them who’s attempting to do a backflip.
“Is this seat taken?” I look over my shoulder and come face-to-face with a man standing way too close.
“Umm.” Before I can say more, he pulls out Braxton’s chair and sits, setting his beer down on the table. “Sorry.” I try not to sound annoyed, even though I am. “I’m here with someone.”
“Really?” He looks around. “Where are they?”
“At the bar,” I say, and he looks toward the bar, and I follow his gaze but don’t see Braxton anywhere in sight.
“I’m sure your friend won’t mind if I keep you company.” His arrogance is not as charming as he thinks it is, and I feel tension start to settle in my neck and shoulders. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here on a Friday?”