Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Her laughter comes easy as if there’s no strife between us at all. Rolling to her side, she rests her head on her hand with her elbow punctuating the bed. “That was delicious. Did you eat yours?”
“I saved it for you.” I come to the edge of the mattress to grab her by an ankle and pull her closer. Not closer to me, but to the edge of my bed. Pulling her off it onto the floor seems a little harsh, even for me. A squeal and a trilling giggle leave her smiling like . . . like. . . like she might not hate me. “Do you know how long I spent getting poppy seeds out of the carpet?”
“No, but I’m willing to wager your entire life savings that you’re going to tell me.”
Wonder if she got credit for snark as a second language. She’s damn good at it. “I’m not wagering anything other than you’ll be in that bed one way or the other.” Fed up, I decide to remove myself from the situation before I burst a blood vessel in my head.
But before I reach the door, she says, “If you’re trying to seduce me, Mr. Landers . . .” Her dramatic pause draws me back, connecting our gazes once again. “It’s working.”
Although she frustrates me like no other woman ever has, she’s also fucking gorgeous. The afternoon sunlight filters through the surrounding buildings, kissing the shine on her lips and making me wish I could do the same.
I turn away. With my back to her and my eyes set forward, I refrain from saying something that could be used against me in court. Or that she’ll use as ammo for the rest of the night. I leave.
I’m heated, and my head starts pounding. I’m about to be out of the “watch zone” as the instructions they gave Delaney stated. She has repeatedly claimed to be the one there for me, from the hospital to being here in my apartment. So it’s not out of the realm to have her here during that time period. But after, she’ll have no reason to stay. And since she’s not here for the sparkling conversation, my guess is she’ll leave.
Hunting again for my phone, I keep thinking I’m missing a piece of the puzzle, the one that tells me what’s in it for her. Money? Feels too basic for this woman. Look at her. She could marry some old guy and inherit his net worth without trying so hard.
I’m young, only thirty-four. Healthy. I take care of myself. She’d be in it for the long haul with me. Since she doesn’t seem to like me too much, I’m thinking it’s not money.
Sex?
Nah. She could get any guy she wants. That is if she can stay hinged long enough to round the bases. After that, she’s home free.
I’m checking under the couch cushions when I hear her come into the room behind me. “Can’t we both just share the marital bed like we did last night?”
Standing up, I turn to look at her. She’s still wearing the leggings like they’re pants and not made exclusively to work out in or lounge around the apartment. My Harvard shirt looks incredible on her, but it doesn’t change the fact that I have a feeling it'll go missing from my closet for good if I turn away from her for a second.
A flood of pink deepens her cheeks under my gaze. The tip of her tongue dips out to lick her lips, and she shifts, putting more weight on her right than left. Is it possible she really does belong here? If I ignore my own instincts like they don’t scream the opposite, I’d say yes. She appears to be at home here and with me.
Holy shit. I’m married.
A quick spell of dizziness has my brain spinning. I sit down on the couch that I didn’t have time to put the cushions back in place before I needed a place to land. The realization leaves me lying flat on the couch, eyes closed.
“Are you okay, Warner?”
“I’ve been better.” The sound of her socks sliding against the wood has me peeking my eyes back open. Kneeling beside me, she stares at me like I’m a science experiment gone wrong. She has a real talent for making me feel worse. I close my eyes, needing some space, and since I can’t get it in my own apartment, I’ll escape mentally.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on vacation. Digging deeper, I’m not sure I’ve gone on one since my dad died four years ago. I wince from the feel of her ice-cold fingertips gliding across my forehead. “You’re burning up.”
I open my eyes to see her just inches away from me. Pushing myself up, I reposition to sitting and then feel my head with the back of my hand. “I don’t feel hot. Anything would feel hot to those cold digits. You need some gloves to bundle up in this tested-for-exact-comfort-during-the-day seventy-two degrees?”