Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Sure,” she says with a grin.
I try to put her on the spot with my next question. “What’s your last name, Summer?”
“Time,” she answers quickly, and that comes with a smile.
Jesus, that smile could make men forget everything but her.
I can’t help but chuckle because my roundabout attempt to get her to tell me her name just went off the rails. “Your name is Summer Time?”
“For all you know, it is. What’s your name?”
It’s been a long time since I’ve used an alias with a woman. I used to do it because of my family’s wealth and my grandmother’s constant reminder that with money comes curiosity. She wanted me to protect myself, so I resorted to using a fake name for one-night stands. I haven’t done that in years, though.
The last time I hooked up with a woman I had just met was a few months ago when I was in Philadelphia for business. I introduced myself as Holden Sheppard before I took her to my hotel room for the night. A week later, she was at my office in Manhattan with her resume in hand, expecting a high paying position within my organization.
She was certainly qualified, but I had nothing to offer her other than a polite and unequivocal no. Mixing business with pleasure is something I try to avoid. I had no interest in partaking in more pleasure with her, but that didn’t mean I wanted her anywhere near my business dealings.
Many people stopped their work to stare when she stormed away after I handed her resume back to her. I blame that on the fact that she announced to everyone within earshot that when we fucked I promised her a corner office and a six figure salary.
Neither was true, but that didn’t stop my employees from gossiping about it for weeks. Things have finally settled down in that regard. I don’t want a repeat, so I revert back to the alias I used for hook ups in college.
It’s unimaginative since it’s a name I pulled out of a hat. I literally pulled it out of a baseball cap when I was nineteen. The guy I was sharing a dorm room with scribbled a dozen first names and an equal number of surnames on scraps of paper. He dumped them into the cap, and we pulled out our fake names.
I ended up being Joe Campbell.
His alias was Bard Sanderson.
I still call him that whenever we connect over dinner or drinks.
“I’m Joe,” I say with the ease that comes with using the name on and off for years. “Joe Campbell.”
“Joe Campbell,” she says, repeating it as though she’s testing it on her tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, Joe.”
“You too, Summer.”
A curt nod of her head closes that part of our conversation. “You didn’t answer my question. Can I help you?”
The glass measuring cup in my right hand is a reminder of my bullshit excuse to see her again as soon as possible. I hold it up. “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?”
She glances at the cup before her gaze is right back on my face. “That’s used for measuring wet ingredients.”
I cock an eyebrow. “That matters?”
She nods slowly. “In my business, it does.”
“So you’re a baker?” I deduce.
She leaves that unanswered as she smiles again. “Follow me, Joe, and I’ll get you exactly what you need.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Greer
Why did that sound so sexual?
I didn’t mean for it to, but it sure as hell came out as an invitation to come inside for a lot more than a cup of sugar. I don’t know if he had the same idea in mind as I did when I came up with a plan to ask him if I could borrow some sugar.
All I do know is he beat me to the punch, but I’m not about to complain about it.
The man following me into the kitchen is even more attractive than I thought he was when I first saw him in the pool. That’s saying a lot because I silently rated him a twenty out of ten as he stepped out of the water.
He’s way beyond a fifty now.
His blue eyes are piercing, and as soon as I opened the door, they were locked on me. His hair is thick, dark brown, and peppered with a few strands of gray that make him second-glance worthy.
If I were being completely honest, I’d do a triple-take if I passed him on a sidewalk or saw him in the grocery store.
Since I have no idea where anything is in this kitchen, I open and close numerous cupboard doors before I find a set of sleek silver measuring cups. I know enough about culinary science to understand the importance of using the correct tool for the job, so I grab the largest cup and head over to the pantry.