Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“It’s not ending on a low. Approximately how many hours of work do you have?”
“Too many.”
He groans. “Okay.” Taking my bags, he claims my hand and leads me to the car. “How’s your hand?”
“Fine if I stop forgetting it’s sewn together,” I mutter, assessing it. More blood.
“Shit, Amelia,” he grumbles, throwing my bags in the back of the car and taking my hand, wincing as he checks it. “Did you change the dressing this morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t be smart.” He lifts it to his lips and kisses the edge. “This is being changed before you do anything. Have you got your spare bandages?”
I smirk. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh, you’re a bad, bad girl.”
“Don’t punish me, sir.”
He chuckles and helps me into the car. “Only if you’re lucky.” Once I’m in the seat, Jude helps himself and pulls out my laptop, opening it and setting it on my lap. “Is there anything I can do to help?” His gaze falls down my cream dress as he leans across and puts his mouth to my ear. “Help you relax and clear your mind?”
I go lax, closing my eyes, succumbing instantly to the power of Jude, a hard, intense throb dropping to between my thighs. My toes curl. Fuck. My eyes snap open, and I push him away. “Back off, Harrison,” I warn, opening my documents and gathering myself, willing the buzz inside to fuck off and give me time to fix this crisis.
Throwing me a warning look, he slowly lifts his wrist and looks at his watch. “Get to work.”
I blink repeatedly, trying to moisten my dry eyes, looking up as Humphrey pulls through the gates of Arlington Hall. Stretching feels glorious. I glance across to Jude, who’s lost in the screen of his mobile. “Everything okay?” I ask.
He breathes out. “Rhys’s publicist is being a diva.”
“She’s being a diva how?”
“She’s hell-bent on finding the sex tape that can’t be found, which makes me wonder if it even exists. It’s as if she wants it to be found so she can swing into PR heaven and save my brother’s reputation and career.”
“It sounds like she needs telling to stand down.”
He hums, frowning to himself. “Rhys and I talked about it over dinner. I think he’s actually listening to me. And I didn’t think pigs could fly.”
Now this is another side to Jude. The caring brother. I like it. “What does Rhys do?” I ask, remembering Jude talking about going to Ireland to try to sort out his drama.
“Plays rugby.”
“Ohhhh. Who for?”
“Dublin Harriers.” He raises his brow. “And England.”
“You’re kidding?” I breathe as Jude reaches for my laptop and snaps the lid shut.
The second the car rolls to a stop, he’s out, taking my bags and pulling me along behind him. “Not kidding. But if he carries on with the partying and getting himself in sticky situations, he’ll be thrown out of both teams.”
“Big brother to the rescue,” I say, smiling fondly at Jude’s suit-covered back as he leads the way.
Naturally, I peek into the Library Bar as we pass, seeing it’s busy. But no Katherine. I do see Anouska, though, talking to Clinton over the bar. They both look this way, smiling. It could just be me, but they look pleased to see me.
“The Amelia is going down a storm,” Jude says over his shoulder, an ironic smile on his face. I still can’t believe he’s named a cocktail after me. “Want one?”
“Maybe when I’ve finished working.”
He walks us up to his apartment and leads me into his bedroom, where he sits me on the bed. “Let’s sort that hand out,” he says. “Where are the dressings?”
“Can it wait until I’m finished working?”
“No.”
I drop my head back. “Jude, it’s stopped hurting, and the second I peel off this dressing, it’ll be sore again.” Typing with only one fully functioning hand is tricky enough without the added bonus of pain.
He frowns and takes my hand, checking it over. There’s no more blood than when we left London. It’s stopped bleeding. He must conclude the same because he relents and pulls off my heels, plumps the pillow, and gets me in place, opening my laptop and resting it on my thighs before getting my files and phone, putting them next to me. Then he disappears and returns a few minutes later with a bottle of water. “There,” he says, placing it on the nightstand. “Do you need anything else?”
I shake my head. “Thank you.”
“Oh, wait.” He’s off across the bedroom again, disappearing into the dressing room, and is back moments later carrying something.
“My hoodie?” I ask, setting my laptop aside.
“It was in the bag you left behind the night you . . .” Jude’s lips twist. “It was in the bag.”
“And you went through it?”
“It was lying on top.” He sits on the edge of the bed and puts it over my head, feeding my hands through the sleeves carefully. “There.” He smiles down at it and leans forward, pushing his mouth to mine and holding it there for a few moments. Oh no. My body naturally responds and screams for him. “I want a cuddle that leads to sex when you’re done,” he whispers.