Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“I will,” he says, his voice husky. “And I’ll mean it. For keeps.”
“Good,” I say.
It is good. It’s great.
And pretty soon, I could have everything I want, every dream for my life falling into place, save one…and who needs a husband anyway? As long as I have my girls and my freedom and a precious little one of my very own, I can’t imagine wanting anything else.
Right?
two
HUNTER
A man on a mission,
with no time for distractions.
Even sexy, oddly compelling distractions…
Elaina Murphy is a menace in that bridesmaid dress.
I try to focus on pouring us both a drink, but I can’t help tracking her reflection in the windows as she wanders the living room. The thin silk flows over her curves like water, catching the light with each step. Even with her hair falling out of its updo and mascara smeared beneath one eye, she looks like she just stepped off the cover of a magazine.
But not a modern magazine…
Elaina, with her bee-stung lips and pin-up girl bangs, with her tiny waist and hourglass curves, is the type of woman who would have been painted onto the side of a World War II fighter plane in the ‘40s. She’s got the body of a bombshell, the strength of Rosie the Riveter, and the fire of every take-no-bullshit aunt on my mother’s side of the family.
As a kid, Aunt Esther, Aunt Sarah, and Aunt Bea kept me in line with a beady eye and a single pointed finger.
Now, they’re all gone, claimed by cancer, one by one. The specialists I hired to manage their care hypothesized that the Mendelssohn sisters had been exposed to cancer-causing toxins throughout the course of their childhoods near a toxic waste disposal site in upstate New York, writing the story of their deaths before they were even grown.
My mother was the oldest child. She had seven years of wholesome living under her belt before her parents moved to the suburban hellhole where they were all unwittingly poisoned.
We’d hoped she would be spared the “family curse.”
And then, last summer, the doctors found tumors on her spine. At first, they thought they might be able to operate—especially if the chemo succeeded in shrinking the masses—but six months later, it became clear the chemo wasn’t reversing the growth, only slowing it, and there would be no operation.
She elected to stop treatment a few months ago, the better to enjoy the time she had left without feeling ill all the time. The doctor gave her six months, maybe nine if we’re lucky, but warned us that the end would likely be difficult and painful.
I don’t have much time, and I can’t afford to be out of the city for long. Mom has round-the-clock nurses and a hired companion to attend to her comfort, but I know she looks forward to my visits and our weekly dinner date.
I have to convince Elaina to sign on the dotted line and get her installed in my apartment in the city, ASAP. The better to have her under me as often as needed to achieve the desired result.
To get her pregnant. To put a baby in this woman you barely know, the inner voice pipes up. If you can’t be honest about what you’re doing, not even in your own head, maybe this plan is as crazy as I’ve been saying it was from the start.
Ignoring the logical voice—there’s no room for logic when Death is on the doorstep—I ask, “Olives or onions with your dirty martini?”
“Olives, obviously,” she says, pausing to examine an abstract painting. “And add another splash of vermouth, please. I like my dirty martini soaking wet.”
I glance over my shoulder, certain she’s toying with me—trying to force my thoughts to her soaked pussy and how much I enjoyed taking her in every corner of her apartment, no doubt—but she’s still gazing at the wall.
“Very bachelor pad meets Architectural Digest around here,” she muses.
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” I ask, warning my cock to calm the fuck down.
We have business to attend to before we can even consider pleasure.
I’ve already promised myself—no contract, no fucking. I can’t afford to get distracted by a woman who isn’t on board with my proposal. If Elaina decides she doesn’t want a baby all that badly, after all, I’ll go back to the city and start looking into other options for continuing my family line. I’m sure there are other women who would be interested in my terms, but vetting them will take time.
Elaina has already been thoroughly vetted, not only by my investigator, but by the fact that we have numerous acquaintances in common. And I already know I like her enough to enjoy spending a few months in her company.
Though how much I enjoy being inside her should probably be reason enough for me to pump the brakes on this plan.