Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Okay, fine. I’m charmed right out of my underpants. He’s so getting laid when we get back tonight.
The dress is pretty, though tighter than what I typically wear other than when I head out to Whiskey’s in my good pair of jeans. I hold it to my body and turn to see myself in the mirror on the wall. “The man has excellent taste.” Returning it to the bed, I look in the bag to find a shoebox and a tissue-wrapped handbag. “Gorgeous. Gorgeous.”
I’m starting to feel like Pretty Woman without the bad stuff that happens. Two hours until I’m supposed to meet him. So mysterious and sexy and romantic. I’m liking this side of him. It’s fun.
I pull my suitcase to his room and hop in the shower. It’s when I’m drenched with soap running down my body that I start to wonder if he does this for all his women. Way to ruin it, Chris.
Refusing to dwell on the stuff that doesn’t matter to the timeline our relationship is on, I finish up and get ready.
Thirty minutes to go, and I have no idea how long it will take me to get there. I’m not riding the subway. That’s way too complicated to figure out when I’m running late.
Scraping my hands over the emerald-green silk dress, I look in the mirror, noticing how the color brings out the orange strands in my hair. I twirl to check it out on my body from all angles. It’s a perfect fit, as if they had my measurements. Though I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be this high on the thighs or it’s just shorter on me, I give it a little tug from behind to make sure nothing important is showing. And I can appreciate the way my legs look a mile long, especially when I add the strappy black heels.
I send a prayer to Mary Bracelets to keep me from breaking my ankle. The patron saint of accessories has never failed me before.
Running short on time, I transfer my ID, lipstick, the key the doorman gave me, the note with the address, and my phone into the little black clutch. It’s perfect for me, something I would have chosen myself. Understated but classic.
After one last glance in the mirror to make sure my makeup is flawless and the little black eyeliner wingtips are sharp at the ends, I tuck a section of hair behind my ears, impressed by how straight I got it. The most delicate curl curves the ends like a professional styled it. Lauralee would be proud of how far I’ve come with my skills.
If it were to ever work out, tonight is the night I would pick.
I rush downstairs after locking up, and before I can ask the doorman how to get to the address, he says, “Your car is waiting, Ms. Greene.”
“My car?”
He laughs, but there’s no mocking in it. He leads me to the door and opens it. “Yes, Mr. Grange ordered the car to deliver you to the restaurant.”
First clue revealed. We’re meeting at a restaurant. I approve of food. I’m starving.
He opens the back door of the Town Car, and when I’m tucked in the back, he taps the hood and then shuts it.
Leaning forward, I say, “Hello.”
The driver nods, his eyes catching sight of mine in the rearview mirror. “Good evening.”
“Good evening.” Fancy.
I get the distinct feeling that he’s not a conversationalist, so I sit back and watch the city at dusk go by. When the car stops, I check the time. Ten minutes late, but I assume that’s to be expected here, considering the traffic.
The driver opens the door and assists me in getting out. Once I’m steady on my heels and standing on the sidewalk, I straighten the skirt of my dress with a little tug in the back and then walk into the crowded restaurant to find my cowboy.
CHAPTER 27
Tagger
Holy fuck!
Drop-dead gorgeous!
Makeup like I’ve never seen her wear makes her eyes look electric in the lighting of this room.
The dress hugs her curves, not only drawing my eyes but having every other asshole staring as well.
Stunning legs that seem to go on forever.
It’s only been a couple of weeks since I last saw her, but I can’t wait to kiss that plush and pink mouth of hers again. I leave the bar and work my way through the crowd to reach her. She doesn’t see me at first, but when she does, her expression lifts as if I’m someone special. I am, if I scored her.
I cup her face, close my eyes, and kiss her. Her arm comes around me as she melts against me. When our lips part, I immediately catch the audience we attracted—the smiles and laughter, the looks of jealousy, and the joy in some people’s eyes.