Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
But at least his wife seemed grateful. She sent me a thank-you card and a photo from her new apartment via social media. She finally worked up the strength to leave the bastard while he was in the emergency room, being treated for internal bleeding.
The Voodoo PR department, however, is much less appreciative of my efforts to stand up for the underdog.
I’m still lurking in the corner, mulling over the likelihood that I’ll be benched (or worse) long after Parker has rejoined Makena on the dance floor. I eat chocolate cake, drink a coffee porter that pairs amazingly well with sweets, and am about to hit the road when Charlotte suddenly materializes from the door behind me.
She’s changed out of the white pantsuit thing she was wearing earlier, into a short black cotton dress with a deep V in the front that makes my mouth go dry. Her strawberry blond hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she looks flushed.
Nearly as flushed as the night I made her come in Parker’s garden under a full moon…
I swallow and push the thoughts away, refusing to let the fact that I’m still horny as fuck for this woman show on my face.
“Hey,” I say as she sways to a stop beside me. “Great party.”
“Thanks. But hotter than I expected. I had to pop inside to change. And well, I…” She trails off as she glances down at the grass. When she looks up, anxiety tightens her usually composed features. “And I wanted to talk to you, so I snuck up on you from behind. I hope that’s okay.”
I smile. “It’s just fine.”
She nods over her shoulder. “Up for a chat in my laundry room? Where we won’t be stared at by Parker or Makena or…anyone else?”
“Sure.” I nod, warning my libido not to get his hopes up. This woman shut me down in June and refused to let Makena give me her number at least twice. Whatever this is about, it’s probably not good news.
But if it is…
Well, I’m not even going to pretend that I won’t be jumping into Charlotte’s bed at the first invitation. This woman does things to my pride. Namely, she makes it evaporate. I’m pretty sure I’d do any number of embarrassing things for the chance to be inside her again.
She turns, climbing the four concrete steps to the door. I join her in a small, but efficiently designed laundry room. It smells like lavender detergent, a hint of bleach, and Charlotte, and I’m suddenly tempted to lean in and lick the salt from her sweat-damp throat.
It’s her pheromones. They must be superpowered or something. There’s no other explanation for why this woman drives me out of my fucking mind in a way no woman has in years.
She leans against the dryer, looking determined, but not in a sexy way. I’m still trying to read the vibes when she blurts out, “I have no idea how to say this, so I’ll just say it. Flat out. I heard you were in trouble for beating a guy up last weekend. And facing suspension if you can’t convince the higher-ups that you’re on the straight and narrow from now on. Is that right?”
My jaw tightens. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it. But I don’t regret what I did. That asshole had it coming.”
“Sounds like it,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t be punished for it. People get punished for doing the right thing all the time.”
I shrug. “But virtue for virtue’s sake, right? At least that’s what Aristotle said.”
Her lips hook up on one side. “Aristotle also said virtue calls for judgment. I’m not saying you made an error in judgment, but I have a feeling the Voodoo management might have a different opinion…” She pulls in a breath and crosses her arms. “So, I have a proposition for you."
I nod, pretending the fact that she knows Aristotle doesn’t turn me on like nothing else. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“You need to rehabilitate your image. Show the world you’re not some loose cannon who solves problems with his fists. And I need a date for my ex’s wedding in two weeks. Someone who will make him regret every stupid decision he’s ever made. I wasn’t going to worry about revenge, but things have escalated recently and…” She lets out a sharp laugh. “Well, I feel like being petty. Really petty. And me showing up to his wedding with my gorgeous hockey player boyfriend is the kind of petty that will drive Theodore fucking nuts.”
Forcing my ego to ignore the “gorgeous” part of that, I home in on the meat of her proposal. “Boyfriend, huh? So, this would be more than a wedding date kind of thing?”
“It would have to be in order to convince the team that you’re a stable, settled man in a long-term relationship with a boring older woman. One who will keep you home doing reno projects on your nights off, so you won’t get into trouble on Bourbon Street.”