Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
It’s him.
The man by the fire.
Even with a black mask obscuring the upper half of his face, I know those broad shoulders and perfectly tailored suit on sight.
I gulp and try to think of something to say other than—“God, you’re like something straight out of my dirtiest, sexiest dreams.”—while he eases into the room with the grace of a man completely at home in his own skin.
But of course, he’s confident.
He’s gorgeous and tall and built like a Greek god. And he probably makes high six figures a year pleasuring women out of their minds. Thanks to Weaver, I’m getting a fifty-percent “friend of The Garden” discount. This beautiful, sex-panther of a man usually earns twenty thousand dollars a week.
But he’s agreed to devour me at a discount.
Devour…
He looks like he might gobble me up in one bite. His dark eyes are still intelligent, captivating, behind that mask, but they’re also…hungry.
He looks like he wants to strip me bare and carry me through the French doors to the bed lurking in the shadows.
Or maybe ravage me right here on the couch…
Before I can decide if the thought is daunting or delicious, he trips over the edge of the Persian rug, nearly falling before he pulls his big hands from the pockets of his suit pants and braces a palm on the wall.
“Damn,” he mutters with a soft laugh. “Well, that’s my two left feet for you. Hope you don’t want to go dancing.”
I grin, relief flooding through my chest. His voice is every bit as rumbly and perfect as I’d hoped it would be, and the self-effacing smile beneath his mask is…charming.
And sweet. And sexy.
And I think I just fell in love at first sight all over again.
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure him, standing with a nervous grin. “I’m a total klutz and haven’t danced since my friend’s bar mitzvah in junior high when I tripped on a chair and fell into the punch bowl.”
He laughs, warmth and compassion in the sound. “Poor pre-teen you.”
“Poor punch bowl,” I joke as I extend a hand, proud to see that my fingers are only trembling a little bit. “I’m Maya from Sea Breeze, Maine.”
“Anthony from New York City, New York.” His big hand closes around mine, making me feel small and electrified and alive in a way I never have before. By the time he gives my palm a gentle squeeze and releases it with a husky, “Pleasure to meet you, Maya,” my panties are damp.
If a simple handshake with this man is capable of arousing that kind of response, I’m a little scared to know what kissing him might do.
I’m also intrigued and eager and already certain that he’s the one. I’d tell Twyla to sign my name on the dotted line right now, but there’s no rush.
We have an entire half hour to get to know each other.
I already know it won’t be long enough. I’m ridiculously thirsty for more of his voice, his words, his touch…
He nods toward the bar cart. “Can I get you a drink? A glass of wine, maybe?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I can’t always be trusted with wine. It makes me say embarrassing things.”
He tilts his head to one side, making his thick hair fall deliciously over his forehead. “What sort of embarrassing things?”
I pull in a breath and exhale in a rush, “Well, last month I drank three glasses of chardonnay and asked my best friend’s boyfriend to help me hire a male escort. So…that was pretty embarrassing.”
He laughs again and the heat curling between my thighs burns a little brighter. “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s embarrassing. Sounds pretty brave to me. Especially for someone your age.”
I bite my lip, hoping my age isn’t going to be a problem. “Thank you. I’m twenty-four, by the way. I know I look younger, but that’s just the chubby cheeks.” I motion toward my face with a nervous laugh. “Not sure if you can see them beneath the mask. I inherited them from my mom. But she got carded until she was forty, so I guess they aren’t all bad.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Your cheeks aren’t chubby. They’re beautiful. And I um…” He glances down at the thick carpet before lifting a slightly sheepish gaze to mine. “I remember you. From the library. When you walked through the room, I…couldn’t look away.”
My heart is trampolining in my chest now, but I do my best to play it cool as I say, “I noticed you, too. You were reading Great Expectations, one of my favorites.”
He nods. “Mine, too. It’s a master class in character development.”
“And one of the best books about finding yourself and your place in the world that I’ve ever read,” I say, before adding in a softer voice, “the romance is pretty good, too.”