Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
He brought me a glass of wine and stood alongside of me as I gawked at the sight. “Umm… Do you rob banks on the side?”
The corner of his lip twitched. He lifted his wine glass to his mouth. “I’m too pretty to go to prison.”
“Sugar momma?”
He shook his head.
“Win the lotto?”
More head shaking. He could have just told me what the deal was. He knew me well enough to know it wasn’t likely I’d be letting the subject go without an answer.
“Rich parents? You do wear some expensive suits and shoes.”
“My father was a postman. My mom was a secretary at a law firm.”
“I know that on average, men tend to make more than women in the same jobs, but this…” I held up my hands toward his view. “…this would be a little insane.”
Bennett set his wine down on a nearby bookcase, then took mine out of my hand and set it next to his.
He hooked both arms around my waist. “You didn’t kiss me hello.”
“I guess I got distracted by the view.”
His eyes raked up and down my body. “I’m pretty distracted by the view at the moment.”
My stomach got that squishy feeling.
He leaned in. “Kiss me.”
I rolled my eyes as if it were a burden to plant my lips on this beautiful man, and then leaned in for a quick peck hello. Only when I went to pull back, Bennett tangled his hand in my hair and didn’t let me. My hasty kiss turned into way more than hello. Bennett’s other hand slid down to my ass, and he pulled me flush against him. I felt the prod of his erection against my belly.
Well, hello there.
He broke the kiss with a tug of my bottom lip between his teeth. I was breathless.
“Hi,” I said.
His mouth curved into a smile. He pushed my wayward hair behind my ear. “Hey, beautiful.”
We stared at each other, grinning like two goofy teenagers who just made out for the first time. Bennett used his thumb to wipe smeared lipstick from my bottom lip. “I had an accident a long time ago. Got a big settlement. Invested part of the money to buy this place.”
It took me a second to realize what he was even talking about. His kiss had left me dazed.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope no one was too hurt.”
Bennett handed me back my wine. “I better check on the pasta.”
While he went back to the kitchen, I snooped around. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room were the decoration in his apartment, so he didn’t need much else. His furnishings were nice, dark and masculine, and he had a gigantic curved-screen TV in the living room.
The only real sense of who Bennett Fox was had to come from his bookshelves. I perused the titles—an odd mix of political nonfiction, hardcover thrillers, and some well-worn comic books. There were four small, framed photos, two of which were Lucas—one in a soccer uniform with half of his front teeth missing in his smile, and one that looked more recent of him and Bennett on a boat. They seemed to have a very strong bond.
There was another of Bennett and an older woman on what looked like his college graduation day. I turned and found Bennett watching me from the open kitchen.
“Your mom?”
He nodded. “Graduate school graduation.”
I looked more closely at the photo and could see the resemblance. “You look like her. She looks very proud here.”
“She was. I went off the rails for a year the month I started grad school. Dropped out. I’m pretty sure she never expected I’d get back on track and finish.”
“Oh, now I’m curious. I expect to hear more about that crazy year at some point.”
Bennett’s face turned solemn. “It’s not a year I’m proud of.”
Feeling the need to change the subject, I put the photo of his mom back and picked up the last frame. It was a girl, probably about seventeen or eighteen, leaning against a car and smiling. She was pretty.
“Your sister?” I asked, even though I remembered he’d once mentioned he was an only child.
Bennett shook his head. “Friend. Lucas’s mother.”
He’d said Lucas’s mother died a long time ago, so I didn’t push. Instead, I looked down and studied the photo. Her son looked exactly like her.
“Wow, he’s like her little mini-me.”
Bennett dumped water into the sink from a steaming pot. “He’s becoming a little wiseass just like her, too.”
I set the photo back down and walked to the bar stools tucked under the living room side of the kitchen counter to watch him cook.
“Are you any good?”
He arched a brow. “You tell me.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Fox. I was referring to your cooking.”
“My mother’s Italian, so I can make a few things. Growing up, she worked full time. When I was little, she would pre-make five different meals on Sundays for me to stick in the oven during the week since she worked a lot of overtime. I hung around and helped her. Eventually, she stopped having to spend a full day in the kitchen every weekend, because I picked up how to make some stuff and started to cook for us after school.”