Sweetheart – The Morgans of New York Read Online Deborah Bladon

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
<<<<21220212223243242>77
Advertisement


He stares at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yes,” I lie.

I slid on a pair of jeans and a hoodie more than an hour ago to take Dudley out for his morning walk. When I got back, I half-stripped because I had every intention of taking a hot shower. Before that could happen, I was sidetracked by a text from Arietta asking if I had thanked Jameson for the dessert last night.

“Me too.” He sighs. “I need to get ready for work, but I thought I’d see if we had anything to eat for breakfast.”

I shake my head. “Spoiler alert. We don’t.”

The corners of his lips rise in a half-grin. “I figured that out. I’ll do an online grocery order today. I think I know what you like. Do you have any special requests I should add to it?”

Since my tastes haven’t changed since he left town, I shake my head. “Whatever you order is fine with me. I can pay for half of the food.”

His hand leaps to his chin. His index finger runs a path over the dark shadow of stubble on his jaw. “Let’s take turns paying. I’ll cover this order. The next one can be on you.”

That’s fair, so I nod. “Sure.”

“Do you have big plans for today?”

My gaze drops to his boxers again. He’s not at full mast anymore, but it’s still damn impressive.

He clears his throat, breaking the trance I was in. “I know. I know. Your work is a secret. If you tell me anything, you’ll have to kill me.”

Holding in a smile, I nod. “You know it.”

He takes a step to the left. “I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll be here,” I say. “Maybe tonight we can start going through some of Denia’s things.”

He swallows hard. “I guess we need to tackle that soon. I’ll cook dinner, and right after we eat, we’ll dive into that.”

I’d argue that there’s no reason for us to eat together, but it’s just a meal. We’ll eat quickly and get to work on the required task of sorting through his grandmother’s belongings.

“All right,” I agree. “I’ll see you then.”

He doesn’t say anything as he brushes past me, sprinting down the hallway.

Against my better judgment, I watch him, noticing the breadth of his shoulders and how cut the muscles in his back are.

“Stop it,” I scold myself as soon as the door to his room closes. “You hate him. Don’t forget that.”

A soft bark from Dudley startles me. He jumps up from where he’s been sleeping next to me on my bed.

A quick look at the corner of my laptop screen confirms what I already suspected. It’s past six p.m., which means Jameson must be home.

I close my laptop, slide off the bed, and skim a hand over the front of the white sweater I’m wearing.

After Jameson left for work this morning, I took a very long and hot shower. Then, I unpacked a few of my things and dressed for the day. I opted for the sweater and my favorite pair of jeans. I’ve had them for years.

After that, I planned to head to Brighton Beck’s studio to meet up with him to talk about the launch party for our book. That never transpired because he met me halfway at a diner for lunch.

It’s been a productive day but now the real work begins.

Not only do I have to eat dinner with Jameson, but I’ll be spending the evening going through some of Denia’s possessions. I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know how it will play out.

“I’m home!” Jameson’s deep voice carries through the hallway. “Did the grocery order arrive?”

On bare feet, I set off toward the door of my bedroom. I don’t make it more than two steps into the hallway when I spot Jameson headed my way.

I’ll never get used to how good he looks wrapped in a suit.

“It was delivered about an hour ago,” I answer his question. “I put everything away and started dinner.”

That sends his eyebrows up. “You cooked? Tell me you’re better at that than you used to be, Sinclair.”

I bite back a smile. “I am better.”

He raises his chin in the air. “I don’t smell anything burning. In fact, something smells pretty good. Is that roast chicken?”

I nod. “And garlic mashed potatoes. There’s a side of honey glazed carrots too.”

It’s one of the few complete meals that I cook well. I started my recent culinary journey by learning how to cook spaghetti sauce. Since then, I’ve watched online videos of some of my favorite celebrity chefs. The roast chicken dinner idea came straight from the kitchen of a woman who won a cooking competition. All of her recipes involve simple ingredients, so pulling this meal together took no time at all.

“I’m impressed.” He studies me. “I’ll wow you with my culinary skills tomorrow night. I’ll whip up the best tacos you’ve ever tasted.”


Advertisement

<<<<21220212223243242>77

Advertisement