Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I can’t go back in there. I absolutely cannot go back in there. I raise my chin to the ceiling and whisper, “Please let a black hole open up and swallow me whole.” Dammit, Fay. I bury my face in my hands. I’m never drinking again.
The intercom from my phone buzzes. “My agenda, Miss Evans.”
My thighs clench. Oh God, I totally have an asshole fetish. “Coming.” No! Shit. “As in. . . about to enter your office.” I may hate myself more than I hate him. Is hate-fucking a thing? Definitely a bucket list item. I grab my notebook with his printed agenda. When I return, he’s sitting at the worktable, a smug smile on his face.
Oh, to hell with this. I twist on my heel to run.
“Sit down, Miss Evans,” he demands.
“I forgot my pen.” Please don’t notice the one in my hand.
“There are plenty here. Now, let’s get started.”
I commend him for being so professional. Well, minus the whole calling me out for the alleged phone sex. Still not fessing up to that. And not that we were having phone sex. I apparently was having solo sex, and he just got to listen. Also, remind me why I suck so bad!
“Fay, it will only be uncomfortable if you make it that way.”
So wise he is. Inhaling a deep breath, I sit next to him and lay out his agenda for the day. “First off, I’m not uncomfortable. Second, this is still speculation. My word against yours.”
“That you came or that it was me you were thinking about?”
I choke. “What? Neither. You sure do think highly of yourself. And if I had been thinking about you, there’s no way I would have enjoyed it. Now, you have the Keller meeting at ten, a phone conference with the Worley Group at eleven, lunch with—”
“Why wouldn’t you enjoy it?”
“What?”
“You said you wouldn’t enjoy it. Why?”
I sigh, dropping my pen. “Fine, I would. And the more I remember, I did enjoy it. A lot. I slept better than I have in weeks. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes. Who’s my lunch with?”
“Jim Swanson at Belvidere Steakhouse. Why are you so insistent on knowing? Did you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what?”
Dammit, I walked right into that one. Oh, hell. “Listening. You didn’t hang up. In fact, sounds like you stayed on the line ’til the very end.”
“I was concerned.”
I stifle a laugh. “Concerned?”
“Wanted to make sure you didn’t need assistance. Once I heard you were done, I hung up.”
God, how are we casually having this insane conversation? “Well, no assistance needed. I happen to be very skilled at bringing myself enjoyment.” His eyes darken. Maybe that was too far. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I can’t help but lick my bottom lip. There’s a slow shift in the air. His gaze still lingers on my lips, and I swear he’s thinking about kissing me. The thing is, so am I. “If you’re so concerned, maybe next time you can assist—”
“Knock, knock.” I jerk away, falling back. Theo grabs my chair before I topple over. Amy walks in, looking between the two of us. “Sorry to interrupt. Mr. Monroe, you have—”
Pushing Amy to the side, a blonde goddess walks into Theo’s office. Alana Hill, the woman from the paper who was attached to Theo’s arm. Theo stands and moves away like I burned him. “Alana, I wasn’t aware we had an appointment.”
She smiles at him and then looks down at me. “We didn’t. I thought I would surprise you. How does lunch sound?”
He doesn’t answer her. There’s a shift in the air. The silence becomes too uncomfortable, so I shift in my seat, gather my papers, and stand. “I’ll go ahead and reschedule your lunch meeting.” He doesn’t respond but looks at me with such distaste it sours my stomach.
I walk out and shut the door behind me. Dropping my things on my desk, I hurry to the bathroom. “What are you doing?” I scold my reflection. I keep falling into this trap with him, confusing his teasing with a false sense of hope.
I need to stop whatever this is, which is all in my head. Maybe I need to listen to my mother, call up Mrs. Weller’s grandson, and swap baby names and financials over dinner. I groan. That sounds horrible. I take a deep breath and slowly release it. “This is only temporary. The gods will shine down on you, and you’ll find a kitchen job. Soon, this all will be a distant bad memory.” I got this. “I am in charge of my own destiny,” I repeat. I also read way too many subway station walls.
Walking into Bev’s, I throw a lame wave at Harry, toss my purse on top of the bar, and take a seat. Saying I’m in a shit mood would be an understatement. When I returned to my desk, Theo was gone, and I had an email telling me he wouldn’t be returning and to cancel the rest of his afternoon. Why that bothered me, I have no idea. It shouldn’t have.