Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
“Is that what it’s like?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But more often than not, it’s boring and awkward and working long hours. You get to travel, but it’s rare that you actually get to do any sightseeing. Things tend to be pretty rushed on business trips. And when you’re starting out you have to stay in the model apartments. Imagine twelve people, some of whom have seriously dodgy hygiene, squeezed into a three-bedroom dump and paying through the roof for it half the damn time. Ugh. Listen to me whine.”
He did the solo brow raise thing. Such a cool move. “How is modeling awkward?”
“Have you never been backstage at a fashion show?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“T and A as far as the eye can see. I used to be shy and demure, dammit!”
This time it was definitely there. The small twitch of his lips revealing the faintest of smiles. If it wouldn’t have been obvious and embarrassing, I’d have high-fived myself in victory. I made Ziggy Thayer’s tough guy stone façade crack for a second. Go me. Even dead tired and half falling apart, this was something to celebrate. With more chocolate cake, of course.
He gave me a long hard look. I’d have paid real money to know what he was thinking. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to. This time at least.
“Had to escort a group of businessmen around a bunch of sex clubs once. That was eye-opening,” he said. “And then there was a member of royalty who was into being watched and walked in on. You couldn’t enter a room without accidentally catching sight of something.”
“Oh my God. How did you keep a straight face?”
“Keeping a straight face is one of my specialties.”
“I’ve noticed.”
There it was again. His lips curved upward by about an eighth of an inch. Maybe less. One thing was for sure, my eyesight would be sharp as hell by the time this man left to protect someone else.
“All of this sangfroid of yours makes me want to say weird and outrageous things just to try and catch you off guard,” I confessed. “But I’ll do my best to try to restrain myself. Today at least.”
“I appreciate that.”
“You’re very welcome.” I grinned. Holy cow. Were we flirting? Or was it just me and my overactive imagination?
“Miss Cooper,” he said in that rough low voice. “When’s the last time you slept? I mean really slept.”
“Do I look that bad?”
“You look fine. But you do look like you could use a decent night’s sleep.”
I turned away, embarrassed for some reason. Teary almost. Actually I completely knew the reason. Being worn out and having someone you liked call you on it kind of sucked. No matter how nice he was trying to be.
“This stalker thing and the messages and everything have got me a little…wound up, I guess,” I said. “Jittery, you know? Actually, you probably don’t know. I can’t imagine anything scaring you.”
“You’d be wrong about that.”
I said nothing.
“I never had any trouble sleeping in Afghanistan, but as soon as I returned stateside, it just all hit me. I don’t know if it was too quiet after being over there or what. But any little sound woke me up. I’d just be lying there wide awake and on edge. And the dreams…”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Also my dad was a truck driver and Mom used to hate it when he was away. Always said she couldn’t sleep a wink.” His gaze softened. “She wasn’t weak or frail. Trust me, no one wants to cross Mom when she’s in a mood. But she liked knowing someone else was there to help out if anything went wrong, I think. That she didn’t have to face things alone.”
“I can see that.”
“Do you think maybe you could lie down and take an afternoon nap while I’m here?”
I exhaled, untying the apron strings. “I suppose I could try.”
“Good.”
I packed up the baked goods while Ziggy went back to checking the apartment with the little black box thingy. Normally an afternoon nap was holiday behavior. A luxury item. I closed the curtains in my room and toed off my shoes. My king-size bed happened to be one of my all-time favorite places to be. Silvery gray pillows and comforter with a mattress that was to die for. I rolled onto my side and shut my eyes. Everything seemed strangely quiet. With the bedroom door closed, I couldn’t hear Ziggy’s footsteps in the main room. No taps were dripping, though the A.C. did click off and on. It wasn’t as dark as during the night, but I still felt weirdly vulnerable all curled up on my bed. Like someone was watching or something. Not a sensation I enjoyed.
If only my brain would shut up and shut down. That would be nice. Instead, it kept regurgitating the content of those horrible disturbing emails. When I was busy, I’d mostly been able to keep it out of my head. But not now. What kind of asshole would threaten a complete stranger? After my breakup, I’d been inundated with emails from his fans calling me a disloyal frigid bitch, among other charming epithets. They threatened me with all sorts of awful things. For a while I just deleted any message sent by a stranger. People could be such trash. Generally speaking, I tried to see the good in the world and all the people contained therein. However, some people were just oxygen bandits.