Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
She had to take control. Now.
Stepping forward, she held out her hand to introduce herself as if they hadn’t just spent the most miraculous night together. “Hi. I’m Saskia Oliver, San Holo’s assistant.” She gave a nod toward The Discus Thrower. “Charlie Ballard is an amazing sculptor.” He didn’t take her hand, and she let it drop, rushing on before he could answer. If he even intended to. “It’s a truly magnificent work.”
As the silence went on, her heart beat harder, faster, and her blood roared in her ears.
Would he let her in? Or throw her out?
It took a lot to throw Clay off. But Saskia Oliver had managed to shock him.
How the hell could his dream woman of last night be standing here in his warehouse? Sure, he’d been determined to find her again. But she had found him.
Was it destiny?
His heart pounded hard, his breath stuck in his throat, and even his vision blurred around the edges as he looked at her. Christ, she was beautiful, all that gleaming dark hair falling over her shoulders, those deep cocoa-colored eyes, and the long, flowered sweater draping her beautiful body. Even the combat boots woke primal urges inside him.
Damn her for doing this to him.
But he refused to show any sign of weakness. Hands on his hips, he stared her down. Maybe he should have taken her hand, shaking it as he would that of an acquaintance. But they were so far from that. Exactly what, he didn’t know. But acquaintances? Not.
Then he let almost every thought in his head fall out of his mouth. “I had no idea when we slept together last night.” He felt the hardness in his voice deep down in his chest. “When you said it was just a one-night thing and it was over.” This morning, he hadn’t wanted it to be over. But what did he want now? “It never occurred to me you’d be part of San Holo’s world.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “But I’m good at compartmentalizing. While I’m shocked to see you here—” He didn’t mind admitting it. “—I’ll put that aside and grill the hell out of you about your boss.” He hadn’t forgotten his mission, and he made sure she didn’t forget it either. “Because I am going to find out who he is.”
She stood there, absorbing his tirade, if it could be called that, her face growing paler by the moment. He didn’t sense fear or see a stalked-deer look in her eyes. But when she let out a breath, he heard the jitter in it. Nervous, then.
He tightened his lips to a thin line. “You knew who I was last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Like you said, I’m in the art world.”
“You searched me out after I made that offer to San Holo’s agent?”
It wasn’t possible. He’d only just left Adrian Fielding’s office when he’d seen Saskia Oliver bopping down the street like she hadn’t a care in the world. She hadn’t seen him, just like she hadn’t seen the robotaxi. But he wanted to hear her deny it.
“I recognized you after the car almost hit me.” She nodded her head in punctuation. “But I didn’t know about the commission for San Holo. Not until this morning, after—” After that freaking fabulous night they’d spent together. Then she added, “I didn’t sleep with you because you’re Clay Harrington or because you want something from San Holo.” She blinked, her gaze cleared, and the jitters seemed to fall away. “I slept with you because I wanted to.”
His heart went into overdrive as she said the only thing his body wanted to hear. He was a businessman, and astute, he liked to think. He’d have noticed if she’d had ulterior motives.
Then she smiled and damn near knocked him sideways. Christ, that smile. It made him think of the moment before she took him in her mouth. The moment before she took him inside her body. The moment before she drove him absolutely insane.
“So,” she said. “Now that’s out of the way, shall we get down to business? Here’s how San Holo works.”
Just standing next to her, scenting her as if she were his mate, the memories of last night assaulting his system, he realized she’d blown every brain cell in his head. He’d intended to go on about meeting San Holo before he agreed to anything. He’d intended to grill her. But instead, he found himself simply looking at her beautiful face, that seductive body beneath the sweater, listening to the voice that stroked his every nerve ending.
“Adrian says you want a mural around the entire warehouse.”
Entranced and speechless again—holy hell, he hadn’t even invited her past the lobby yet—he could only nod.
“Here’s what you do. Give us a basic idea of what you’d like.” She shrugged. “Say you want dinosaurs. But you don’t want mermaids or unicorns.”