Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I spend the next few minutes bantering with them, as Kenji handles another customer.
Then they’re gone.
And Kenji flashes the biggest smile in the world at Mister D. “It sure looks like you have something Elodie wants badly,” he coos, grinning at the envelope.
I vow to kill him later.
Well, after he rearranges the schedule for the employees next week. And removes the peanut butter cups from their molds. And places our next Valrhona order since, as a chocolatier, our business is chocolate-to-confection, and Valrhona makes the best chocolate to use in all the recipes I’ve created.
Ugh. He’s too valuable to eighty-six.
As another group of customers comes in, Kenji slides past me with a wink, moving to help them at the other end of the counter.
Which means I can’t avoid Mister D anymore. He’s standing across from me. “Elodie Starling.” It’s like he’s having fun saying the name on the package. “I believe this is for you.” He dangles the pink envelope as if it’s a prize when really it’s a billboard advertising good girls with dirty desires.
My face isn’t just a flame. My whole body is red with embarrassment as I get a better look at the envelope at last. It’s ripped all along the end. “You actually opened it?” It’s not an accusation. It’s a quiet question, spoken like a mouse.
Where has all my confidence gone? Oh, right. It whooshed out the door five minutes ago, right along with my dignity.
“Not me,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Then who?”
“My grandma.”
I didn’t think this moment could get worse, but I was wrong. I close my eyes, deflated, then open them to say, “I’m…so sorry.”
But then, wait. I replay those words in my head. Did I just apologize for ordering a vibrator? Who am I? Am I a mouse or a flamingo?
A flamingo, dammit.
An unabashed sex toy aficionado too. I have a platinum account at the finest shop in the city. I have great orgasms I give myself, and I love them.
They’re the only sure thing in my life right now—a life that’s teetering with bills and questions and decisions I don’t want to face.
I lift my chin. “What I meant to say is thank you for returning this.” Then with my head held high, I reach for the envelope with pride. “In fact, I was definitely missing it last night.”
There. Not ashamed at all. Just to prove how not ashamed I am as I tuck the package under my arm, I add, “And I’m so glad to have it back. No idea why it wound up at your bar though.”
“Me neither, but I definitely didn’t mind,” he says, but I barely register the words as I look closely at the address on the envelope. That’s weird. That’s not my address.
It’s his.
Which means…
“Oh my god. I know what happened. I must have copied the Sticks and Stones address into my GPS on my way over to pick up my order. Then when I pasted in the address for this, I copied in yours, not mine.”
“Too bad. I was hoping it was subliminal.”
He was?
And wait. Did he just say he didn’t mind that I’d sent this by mistake?
All that red-hot embarrassment slinks away, replaced only by curiosity. “You were hoping I’d sent you a toy?”
He leans closer, like he did last night at the bar. Immediately, I’m caught in his flirt bubble once again. “I did a little research on Risqué Business. They have one-hour delivery. This package arrived an hour after you left,” he says, his green eyes glimmering, asking what his mouth won’t—did you order it while thinking of me?
I don’t answer. Instead, I ask a question of my own, whispering, “Are you a sex-toy detective?”
“Just got my license last night. And I’m enjoying this new line of work immensely,” he says, sending a zing of desire down my chest. “But I’m a little concerned about something, and I’m hoping you can help me out.”
“Sure,” I say, going with it.
Brow creased with concern, he points to the package I’m now holding. “It arrived with lube. But no batteries. Are the batteries coming separately?”
“Yes, that’s often how it works. Simultaneous deliveries aren’t that common.”
“They’re overrated anyway,” he says.
“You think so?”
“It’s more important that ladies go first. And often.”
It’s official. I’ve met my soul mate. “Preach.”
“Do you know what else I learned last night in my recon?”
“Dying to know.”
He glances down at the counter where Kenji’s tapping away on the tablet, ringing up an order. The man of my fantasies looks back to me. “That the dual density simulates the…real thing.” He takes his time saying those last two words, and an electric charge pulses down my spine.
Partly because he did research the purchase. He didn’t just laugh at the silicone schlong. He looked it up. Wanted to understand it. A man who tries to understand the properties of sex toys is my kind of man.