Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
I step up to the cash bar.
The bartender’s eyes linger on my cowl neckline the way Ward’s had earlier. Brina was right. This is a good look for me.
“Nice dress,” the bartender says with a wolfish grin. “Don’t mind me.”
I manage the kind of smile you save for men when you can’t tell if they’re being sweet or leering. “Thanks. Can I get a glass of champagne and a shot of your best brandy? Oh, and water!”
“Will do, ma’am. Have you bid on anything exalted yet?” He slides a water glass over.
“A couple postmodern nature paintings and a Napoleon bust with the mister,” I say, downing my precious H2O.
“Interesting choice.” He slides the brandy over. “Here’s your shot, and I’ll have your champagne right out.”
Someone taps my shoulder insistently, but I’m not bathed in warm mint.
My eyes land on an unfamiliar man who stares with a murky smile. Definitely not Ward, so who?
I’m beginning to wonder about the attention I’m getting with this dress.
“How’d you manage to land a Brandt?”
Frick. That voice. My head spins with horrible recognition.
Austin Gifford.
Older, spray tan, and more bloated looking than I remember him.
How the hell is he here? The tickets to this event only went out to members and were a thousand dollars apiece. He’s clawed his way up the social ladder pretty far if he’s here.
I want to die. The worst part is, his surprise is warranted.
I haven’t landed a Brandt. Not really.
I’m only good enough for coffee runs, small talk, and arm candy.
Speechless, I look up at him, not sure what to say.
The inferno on my face could bake a lasagna, but I have to find some witty reply, and fast.
Ideally, before I toss my drink in his face.
This ass has to believe I’m engaged. I can’t handle the humiliation of him knowing I’ve been a placeholder twice.
Is “fuck off,” an acceptable response for a black-tie occasion?
Probably not, but it’s all I’ve got.
Especially when his lips curl with frustration and he leans in too close. “Paige? Don’t you recognize me?”
But before the panic hits, I’m engulfed with sweet mint and dark shadows. Strong arms wind around my waist, sweeping me back off the seat, and pressing me against a rock-hard slab of muscle.
Thank God.
When I melt against Ward in my fudge ice cream cone of a dress, it’s because I don’t have the energy to deal with my flipping ex. Not tonight.
He removes a hand from my waist, but I’m still held securely against him by his other arm. “Ward Brandt. Nice to meet you?”
Austin shakes his hand. “Austin Gifford. The pleasure’s all mine.”
Ward’s got both arms around me now. Probably sensing how I’m wound tighter than a drum.
“I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re curious about how we met. Paige is my assistant. When a woman this luscious is in and out of my office all day, it was a date with destiny. Hell, the first time I saw her, I was ready to beat the hell out of any man who touched her.” He drops a kiss on my shoulder strap but brushes my bare skin with his lips, his stubble, his oh my God.
I’ve become one big goosebump.
I laugh and bite my lip.
Ready to beat any man who touched me? Yeah, that’s one way to spin it. It’s also an unexpected harshness as he realizes our company isn’t welcome.
Ward drops my shoulder strap down against my bare skin.
Austin stares in disbelief. “How long have you been together?”
“Not long, but when you’ve stumbled on the One, you man up and stake your claim,” Ward says, his voice a low smolder, so possessive my knees weaken. “Right, sweetheart?”
“Thank you,” I mouth, but he moves a hand to tilt my chin further.
Apparently, he wants to give me the world’s best distraction from Satan, and I’m not complaining one bit.
Especially when he leans down, his lips ignite mine, and his tongue flicks against my lips with a feral need. My mouth opens, meeting the pressure of his tongue with my own.
I probably overdo it since this is pretend—isn’t it?
But Ward could fool me a thousand times with this kiss.
His tongue mingles, chases, and mesmerizes mine in all of three seconds.
Holy hell.
I break away just long enough to turn, facing those dark typhoons for eyes, and meet his lips again. My hands clasp together behind his towering shoulders. His arms fuse around my waist, squeezing my hips with an intensity that sends my brain spinning off into forbidden, scary, and very dirty territory.
Insanity, here we come.
What started as my unlikely hero saving me again becomes raw passion.
We’re full-on making out in the middle of the gallery. I’m vaguely aware it’s not just Austin’s eyes on us anymore.
Ward breaks away after half a minute in paradise, leaving me gasping for air. My whole body trembles, but he holds me up.