Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Maybe that’s why I came here tonight. I know sooner or later I’ll have to figure out where to spend the night, but calling up the few acquaintances I know in the city or attempting to check into another hotel appeals to me as much as having my chest waxed.
Why should I risk it anyway? My so-called friends would sell me out in a nanosecond. And if the other hotel clerks in Manhattan are anything like the guy from the Lester, I would only find myself on the news again.
I thought about renting a car and driving upstate, maybe checking into a little B & B, but something stopped me from leaving the city.
No, not something. Someone.
More specifically, the curvy redhead whose green eyes keep darting in my direction.
Fuck, she looks even sexier now that I’m fully awake. All that silky red hair that can’t decide if it wants to be wavy or straight. Her emerald eyes. Tight body. Looking at her now, I wish I asked her to stay last night. Would’ve been a lot more fun than the self-gratification session I had to indulge in after she left me with a raging hard-on.
Although I can’t really explain it, this woman has been on my mind from the second I opened his eyes this morning, and now I’m glad I listened to the strange urge that told me to come see her. I’ve been on edge all day, but sitting here in this booth with nothing to do but read a book and wait for Maggie to go on break, I don’t feel as stiff. The tension in my back has eased, my muscles are relaxed, and for the first time in a long time I’m relishing the feeling of being anonymous.
From the corner of my eye, I see Maggie exchange a few words with the brown-haired waitress who’s been eyeing me all evening. The sight of the two women whispering causes a sliver of unease to pierce through me. Are they talking about me?
More importantly, is Maggie confirming my identity or denying it?
The latter becomes likelier, as Maggie’s fellow waitress frowns, then pouts, then glances over at me with supreme disappointment.
I stick my nose in my book to hide a smile. Maggie covered for me. Why, though? She really had no reason to do that, but the fact that she respected my request for privacy pleases me.
When she sidles past my booth again, I can’t help but shoot her a grateful smile. She doesn’t smile back, just spares a brief look in my direction and saunters by.
Is that annoyance in her gaze?
I twist around and watch as she maneuvers through the large, dimly lit bar, which is beginning to fill up. Most of the scattered tables and wall-to-wall booths are occupied, and a popular hip-hop song now blares from the speaker system. Since it’s Saturday night, I know the place will soon be filled to capacity, but I can’t bring myself to duck out just yet.
I’m far too fascinated with the redhead across the room.
Her ass looks delicious in her short denim skirt, making my hand tingle with the urge to squeeze it. My gaze drifts north, to her slim back and the wavy red hair cascading down it. I’m startled to find my dick hardening at the sight.
Jeez. When was the last time I got an erection from the sight of a woman’s back?
Lowering my eyes to the novel, I try to shake off the desire raging in my blood, but my senses kick into overdrive as I remember every detail from last night. How sweet her hair smelled when it brushed against my cheek. The heat of her body pressed against mine. The taste of her lips. The urgency of her tongue. The way her pussy tightened over my finger when I slid it inside her.
The mouth-watering memories only make it more difficult to keep my cock in check. Eventually, I close the book and glance at my watch. Quarter to nine. Man, time sure flies when you’re fantasizing about a hot redhead while pretending to read.
“Do you think it’s him?” hisses a high-pitched female voice.
Shit.
Even in my fairly isolated booth, I know the two women by the counter have a clear view of me. I tug on my baseball cap at the same time I hear four words that make me cringe.
“It’s totally Ben Barrett.”
My muscles stiffen again, as my brain orders me to get out before the girls at the bar decide to approach me.
Maggie’s throaty voice stops me from rising.
“Sorry, honey, it’s not who you think it is.” She gives a loud, exaggerated sigh that makes my lips twitch. “I thought it was him too, but it’s not. I already asked.”
“That sucks,” says one of the women. “I heard he’s in the city.”
“If he is, he wouldn’t come to a place like this.” From my vantage point, I notice the smile on Maggie’s lips seems forced. “Big celebrities like him get suites at the Plaza and do blow with high-class call girls.”