Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The man they’ve chosen for me to ask out, my victim, is sitting at a corner table with a small group of people. From behind, all I can see are the broad shoulders of his tailored suit and the way he commands the space without even speaking. His companions are laughing at something, their glasses clinking as they sip their chosen poison.
As I approach the group, one by one, they notice me. A man with slicked-back fair hair elbows the guy next to him. Next, the sharply dressed woman beside him turns her head in my direction. Her eyes skim over me, slow and scornful, and she lets out the tiniest huff of amusement before leaking out a pitying smile. She is looking at me like I am some lunatic about to make a complete fool of myself. I mean, I am, but it’s still rude of her to assume it.
My heart pounds. I want to turn around. I want to run. But a forfeit is a forfeit. The other two always manage theirs. I can’t be the first one to fall on my face. Sandra’s threat about repeating this on Oxford Street flashes through my head. That would be a hundred times worse. I can’t back out now. I take a deep breath and do the unthinkable.
I can feel my hand fidgeting and twitching as I lift it up and tap my victim on the shoulder.
Someone, anyone, just kill me now.
Time slows down as he turns at my touch, and when his face comes into view, my stomach flips so violently I’m sure I’m going to faint. Those bright green eyes. Those sweeping eyelashes. Men shouldn’t be allowed to have eyes like that. They should be illegal, or at least come with some sort of a warning in bold letters.
BEWARE: MAY CAUSE TINGLING OR TEMPORARY PARALYSIS.
His dangerous eyes widen. For a split second, he looks stunned.
Good. At least I’m not the only one in shock.
Slowly, his eyes travel downwards and come to rest on my chest. Good God, I feel as if I’m going to melt into a puddle. I need to cool it. Then one side of his hard mouth curls into a sarcastic, lazy grin. It should be a crime to smile like that.
My mouth goes bone dry as I tilt my head down slightly and peer coquettishly up at him through my lashes. His jaw is square, his face clean shaven, and his hair dark and thick with just enough of a careless tousle to make it look unfairly perfect. Up this close, there’s something rakishly attractive about this man. Not in the way George is attractive. They are definitely opposites. George seems almost boyish compared to this man. This man radiates something else entirely, power maybe, danger definitely, and a kind of effortless charisma that makes my mouth go dry.
Remembering what Lucy said about making it real, I look up fully and bat my eyelashes like I’m in some ridiculous perfume advert. Something flashes in his eyes. God, this is so bone-crushingly embarrassing. I start to speak. My voice wobbles, but I force it out.
“Uh, I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me?” I croon, cringing internally at my voice and my choice of words. God, Pippa, could you be any lamer?
His companions are stunned into silence. The pitying woman gives a soft, scoffing laugh, tilting her head at me as though silently saying, oh, sweetie, you don’t stand a chance. But then, to everyone’s shock, my own more than anyone’s, he leans back in his chair, studies me for a beat too long, and says one single word.
“Yes.”
My mouth falls open. “Wait, what?”
“Yes,” he repeats. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” Then he grins at me, one that shows his perfectly straight, dazzlingly white teeth.
His voice is low and gravelly, sexy as hell. And because he doesn’t already have enough going for him, he has a gorgeous American accent that makes me want to swoon like a damsel in distress in an old movie. And I didn’t miss the way he emphasized the word love either.
All the occupants of the table turn to stare at him. The pitying woman looks like she’s been slapped and that look alone makes this whole ordeal worthwhile.
Behind me, I hear a ripple of sound, laughter coming from a group on the other side of the bar. I glance over nervously, and I’m relieved to see they aren’t looking at me, but I then notice someone filming me on their cell phone, which takes most of my relief away. My cheeks flame as I realize I’m just standing there, mute and awkward.
He digs into his pocket, pulls out his cell phone, and holds it out to me, his green eyes never leaving mine.