Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not sure on that one either.”
Marlene took the remote off her nightstand and flicked the TV off.
“What time is swimming? I didn’t realize they changed the schedule.”
“Eleven.”
I looked down at my watch. It was five after twelve.
Marlene and I shot the shit for a while, and eventually Shannon walked in, carrying a small clear plastic shot glass containing a few pills. She handed them to Marlene with a cup of water.
“Are they running late for swimming?” I asked.
“Nope. Swimming isn’t until Wednesday at two.”
I glanced sideways at Marlene’s swim cap, then back to Shannon.
She shrugged. “She got upset when I tried to take it off of her this morning. I told her swimming wasn’t until tomorrow. She told me I had shit for brains. Right, Marlene?”
Marlene nodded and handed her back the empty pill cup. She spoke as if she were verifying the time. “That’s right. Shit for brains, that one.”
Shannon gave me a thumbs-up and a wink as she left the room.
An hour later, Marlene let me help her remove the rubber swim cap. The damn thing was so tight, it left a red indent across her forehead where the edge cut off her circulation.
“I’m going to get going. Late practice this afternoon.”
She nodded. “You kiss that granddaughter of mine and tell her not to work too hard.”
“I will.”
After I’d returned from a two-hour session in the editing room, the receptionist walked into my office carrying a tall glass vase full not of flowers but of water. The puzzled look on her face matched mine. Until I saw that the vase wasn’t actually empty. A single blue beta fish was swimming around, and the floor was lined with a layer of blue and yellow colored gravel. She handed me the small florist’s card, glanced at the other vase on my desk—the one full of sticks—and walked out, shaking her head.
I unsealed the card. I named him Brody. You’re welcome.
I smiled, remembering our conversation about me never having a pet before. For a man who’d told me women didn’t really want bullshit flowers and sweet gestures—what they really wanted was a good banging against the wall—I was pretty sure he was giving me both today.
Later that afternoon, I was viewing a replay of my interview with Brody on my laptop. The sound of his gritty voice and the confidence he exuded was a little like foreplay for our date tonight. I was anxious, excited and nervous all at once. Closing my eyes as he spoke, I leaned back in my chair and visualized him standing before me, that commanding voice telling me to undress.
Unbutton your shirt.
Take off that bra.
God, even imagining it stirred a feminine place in me.
Lift that skirt.
Higher, Delilah.
You know what I’m going to do to you…
A knock on my office door startled me, and I jumped out of my seat. Shit.
“Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me.”
“Michael. Hi. Guess I was lost in my work.” I had texted at the last minute to cancel our date the other night, and he’d been very understanding. I hadn’t exactly lied when I told him an interview was running a few hours later than planned and asked for a rain check. Last night, he’d texted me to cash in the rain check I’d promised—and not knowing how to respond, I just never responded.
“Just stopped in to say hello. See how you were doing.”
“I’m good. Busy. Sorry I didn’t text back yet. My schedule has just been so crazy lately.”
His eyes zoned in on the roses he sent displayed on the file cabinet behind me, then he took note of the vase full of sticks on the corner of the front of my desk. He looked justifiably puzzled. They added something to my otherwise drab office—perhaps a splash of crazy. Yet he didn’t question the oddity.
“Would you be up for grabbing a bite for dinner tonight?”
“I actually have plans for tonight. Sorry.”
“Work again?”
Michael was watching me, waiting for a response. It felt odd to tell him that I was going on a date. Probably because of my gnawing guilt that the date was with the guy I’d canceled on him the other night because of. So I lied. “Yes. I need to reshoot part of an interview I did.”
A look of relief passed over Michael’s face. “Man, being the boss around here doesn’t earn any perks, does it?”
“I guess not.” I tried to laugh it off.
“One night next week, then?”
I nodded, leaving things very noncommittal. Thankfully, my phone rang.
“Excuse me a minute.” I was relieved to get out of the conversation and answer my office line. “Delilah Maddox.”
Brody’s sexy voice growled through the phone. “Did you bring an overnight bag to work?”
I looked up at Michael; he was still standing in my doorway. “I did.”