Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
"Your lips touched mine." I glance around furtively to make sure Camila isn't close enough to overhear. I haven't told her about the kisses yet. "That's the definition of a kiss."
"Yeah? Want to test that theory?"
The little bell over the front door chimes, pulling my attention. When I glance up, one very hot giant is standing there, looking incredibly smug. And way too hot in a three-piece suit. He makes the bodyguard uniform look way too freaking good.
"Hello, lamb," he drawls.
How in the world did he call from his office number if he's on a cellphone? This is not how phones are supposed to work!
"You're supposed to be at your office," I complain into the phone.
"Forwarded the number." He smirks, leaning against the door frame. "You think I've been answerin' the phone every time you call by accident?"
"No. I thought I was just unlucky," I grumble, earning an even bigger smile from him. "Why did you call me if you were already here?" And why am I still talking to him on the phone when he's standing in front of me? Jeez.
I drop the phone into the cradle a little harder than necessary.
He chuckles before pulling his away from his ear to tuck it into his breast pocket. "I called to distract you so you'd keep your pretty little ass at your desk this time until I made it in the building. Wouldn't want you losing another tampon under that desk, baby girl."
"Oh, my God. Please leave my office."
"No, can do." He sobers, the smile sliding from his face. "We have to talk."
"We've been doing that for five minutes now."
"This is serious."
"So is this." I swipe the press release off my desk and wave it in the air. "Have you ever tried to proofread for Camila? She throws commas around like they're glitter. And we need to get this out immediately."
Our new client, Gray Larsen, has had some trouble with the press recently after a disastrous Win-a-Date contest. His date got sloshed, and tried to proposition him. She then puked on his shoes while he was trying to get her into a cab to get her home, which a few lucky photographers caught on camera. It's been all over the gossip pages lately.
Everyone is poking fun at him. Which would be fine and dandy, except a few have started to question if he did something to get her to that state. He didn't, but it doesn't take much for an athlete to end up with a bad reputation, even if it's undeserved.
Gray doesn't deserve it. He's a great guy. He's also a fantastic hockey player. He just happens to be a certified disaster off the ice. He needs all the help he can get turning the press in his favor. Camila sent him camping with the Boy Scouts the other day to help rehab his tarnished image. It didn't go well. He ended up with poison ivy in unmentionable places.
He's very dramatic!
"Fine. Finish proofreading, and then we'll talk."
I narrow my eyes on Zayne. "I can't work if you're watching me."
"Why not?"
"It's weird."
"It's weird to read while I sit here quietly and enjoy the view?" He lowers himself into the chair across from my desk, keeping both eyes focused on me the entire time. There's no mistaking the heat in his gaze, as if he fully intends for me to know just how much he enjoys the view.
It's mind-boggling to me that a man who looks like him looks at me the way he does. He's completely gorgeous, but he stares at me as if I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. I don't think anyone has ever looked at me quite like he does.
I give up trying to get him to go away. It's pretty evident he's going to do the exact opposite of anything I say. When I said he was relentless, I wasn't kidding.
"How long were you a Marine?"
"Ten years. Why?"
"Just trying to figure out if they made you this annoyingly stubborn or if it's a requirement to join up," I say sweetly, earning a belly laugh from him.
"Baby, I was born this way. Ask my ma."
"You call her Ma?" I smile despite myself. Of course, he calls her Ma instead of Mom. He's about as Southern as they come. Why is that so attractive to me?
"She'd kick my ass if I called her anything else."
My smile turns into a full-blown grin. "You're scared of your mom."
"Hell yeah, I'm afraid of Ma. She's five-foot-nothing and meaner than a junkyard dog."
"No, she is not."
He cracks a smile. "Nah, she's sweet as pie. But she'd fuck me up in a heartbeat. She raised three boys. She doesn't know the definition of backing down."
"She sounds awesome."
"She thinks you sound awesome."
I fumble my pen, leaving a line of red ink across Camila's release. "You told your mom about me?"