Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“There is always a first sucky book,” she says, as we head further into the apartment and cut right toward the main living area. “Times like these make me want to join you all at the firm.” She disappears around the corner.
I laugh. “You’re talking crazy talk now.”
I follow her into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks when I discover Reese and yes, Cole, leaning on the far cabinet, side-by-side, both in sweats and T-shirts, both holding coffee cups. But it’s Cole that I’m aware of most, and in the moment that our eyes meet, I swear I feel his hands and lips on my body all over again, and it, he, steals my breath. Even the phone calls we’ve shared now feel more intimate.
I force myself to move toward the island, and I don’t have to hold Cole’s stare to know that he’s tracking my every step. I am so aware of this man that my nipples actually tighten with nothing more than him being here, this close to me, and we are not even alone.
I settle my briefcase and purse on a barstool. Cat is about to sit down when Reese catches her shoulders and pulls her back against him. “Relax, sweetheart,” Reese murmurs near her ear, the “sweetheart” another little tidbit to remind me of that intimacy between Cole and I that shouldn’t exist but does.
I claim a barstool and I don’t mean to, but my eyes meet Cole’s again. “Morning, Lori,” he says, and he makes “Lori” sound all sultry and rich, the hint of a smile on his brutally delicious lips speaks of a secret, our secret.
“Morning,” I say, and then add, “boss.”
If I think this will dissuade Cole from being Cole, which I have certainly learned means bold and sharp-witted, I am wrong. “I am,” he says, “aren’t I?”
“Don’t worry, Lori,” Cat says, twisting around to kiss Reese before claiming her barstool. “They’re going running like they used to back in the day, apparently.” She glances over her shoulder at Cole. “And your boss promised not to hijack you today, probably because he doesn’t know how good you are yet.”
“I’m simply trying to stop your meltdown,” Cole comments, his eyes finding mine again. “I told her that I needed you today,” he adds, “and the ever unbreakable, cool, calm, Cat—”
“Did not melt down,” Cat says. “Stop saying that.”
“She melted down,” Reese chimes in. “She’s convinced the book is a disaster.”
“Well, it’s not,” I say. “I’ve read most of the book. It’s brilliant, but with every successful endeavor she puts more and more pressure on herself to stay on top.”
Reese and Cole look at each other and give a little nod of understanding and agreement that Cat can’t see, but I do. It’s a very human moment for the two superstar legal powerhouses, and the fact that they were willing to make this acknowledgement in front of me stirs the sense of belonging in me I’ve always felt with Cat and Reese. And now there is Cole.
I pull out my MacBook and focus on Cat, who everyone in this room seems to believe needs me right now, and being needed feels as good as belonging. “Send me what I haven’t read.”
“Don’t you want coffee?” she asks. “You don’t do anything without coffee.”
“You’re stalling,” I reprimand, because a) she is, and b) she’s right, but Cole is standing by the pot and Reese and Cat are too smart and aware to not feel the charge between us that I don’t need to turn into a flame.
“You don’t function without two cups of coffee.”
God, the woman knows me. “I’m one cup in already.” It’s out before I can stop it, and I quickly scoot off my stool and walk toward Cole. I deflect back to Cat. “But I’ll make cup number two if I return to my computer with a manuscript to read.”
“You’ll have a manuscript when they leave,” she says. “They’re overwhelmingly them and it’s making me crazy.”
I laugh at that, understanding completely. These two men take up a lot of space, in all kinds of ways. Cat then says, “How is your mother?”
There it is. That personal part of my life that Cole is slowly sliding inside. “Still good,” I say, stopping next to him and grabbing a cup from the cabinet, my arm brushing his in the process. Heat jolting up my arm and without intending to, I look up at him.
“Sorry,” I murmur, when I’m not, but it’s necessary that I responded as if I am.
“Don’t be,” he says, his eyes finding mine. “We’re all good here.”
We’re all good here. I know what it means, but it’s generic, easygoing. I cut my attention to the task at hand and stick a pod in the Keurig.
“Any gossip on the man she’s seeing?” Cat asks, pulling my attention back to her.