Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I had every intention of going back to work, but first I needed to find the perfect pair of shoes to match my dress.
When I sat back down at my desk fifteen minutes later, it occurred to me I might not just be dressing up to be seen tonight.
I might have been a grown woman, but I was also a woman with a developing crush on her best friend/fake fiancé, and I wanted him to notice me. Not just flirt casually like he always did but really notice me and think I was the most beautiful woman in the room.
“Oh, Maia.” I dropped my head in my hands, my words muffled, “You’re in big trouble.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BAIRD
It was official.
Maia MacLeod was trying to kill me.
She stared at me.
While the blood pounded in my ears and flew straight to my dick.
A minute ago, when I’d knocked on her flat door, she’d yelled “Come in!” and I’d marched inside, pissed off to find the door unlocked. “I could have been anyone, My!” I called to her, stopping in the doorway of her living room/kitchen. She wasn’t in there.
“I knew it was you from the camera app!” Her voice traveled from the direction of her bedroom.
“I’m just sayin’, keep your flat door locked. You ready?”
“Putting on my shoes.” She sounded a little out of breath.
And then she was there—my lecture on security for a single woman living alone dying in my throat—standing in front of me in a dress that somehow managed to be classy as fuck and the sexiest piece of clothing I’d ever seen in my life. Maia looked like she was ready to hit the red carpet. Her dark hair flowed down her back and shoulders, sleek, straight. I wanted to fist all that hair in my hands as I—
“Fuck,” I huffed out, scrubbing a hand down my beard.
The dress had a modest neckline, but it sculpted to her breasts, her small waist, her luscious hips, and there was a split in the hem that was definitely going to kill me. Her long, gorgeous tan legs looked even longer in the sky-high, barely there strappy sandals she wore.
“My face is up here.” Her words trembled with amusement.
I reluctantly dragged my gaze back to her face. Her makeup was more than usual. Smoky eyes that made the light violet color even more striking.
“Do you even know how beautiful you are?” My voice was rough with the magnitude of my feelings for her.
Maia appeared happily surprised and shocked the hell out of me by asking, “Really?” Like she didn’t know.
That pissed me off. It pissed me off that Maia MacLeod had lived thirty years on this planet and was so damaged by her worthless mum and her moronic ex that she didn’t know she was a fucking goddess among us mere mortals.
I took a step toward her, forcing myself not to touch her, to push too fast, too soon. “You’re always the most beautiful woman in the room, Maia. Always.”
Her lips parted on an exhale. “I think you mean that.”
“I do mean it. I’ve always meant it.”
She glanced away, a shy, sexy smile curling her lips. “I always just thought … you know … you flirt with everyone.”
Shit.
It looked like Callan and John were right. That part of my personality really was coming back to bite me in the arse.
“Doesn’t mean what I say isn’t true.” I bridged the distance between us and held out my hand. “Ready to do this?”
Maia eyed my upturned palm and slowly reached out to take it, my aunt’s ring sparkling in the light. I threaded my fingers through hers and squeezed.
She licked her lips, her gaze searching as if she wasn’t quite sure what was happening between us. Good. I didn’t want her looking at me with benign comfort. I wanted her off-kilter. I wanted her heart racing, her skin hot, and I wanted her questioning everything she thought she knew about what we were and could be.
“You look great too,” Maia opined quietly. “You always do.”
“I know that, beautiful, but I appreciate the compliment.”
She smacked my arm with her free hand. “Cocky bugger.”
Laughing, I shrugged and began leading her toward the exit. “You say cocky, I say self-aware.”
Her resultant snort-laugh made me feel about ten feet tall.
The club we were meeting our friends in was on George Street, so only a few minutes’ walk from Maia’s. While she managed in her heels with ease on the pavement, the cobbles were a bit of an issue, and I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy being able to put my arm around her to keep her steady.
As we strolled toward the pillared entrance of the club, three guys walking toward us practically tripped over themselves ogling Maia. Possessiveness thrummed through me, my hand tightening around hers as I glanced over my shoulder to see they’d turned to watch her walk away. They were whistling under their breath and smacking each other in that “Check her oot, mate” silent language when they noted my death stare.