Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Note to self: Stop fantasizing about your co-worker. You know better than to get involved with someone you work with. Someone you lease space from, to boot. I snap my gaze away from him even as Sawyer turns serious with an answer, saying, “I find I’m liking it.”
That seems to please Linus, but I wonder what Sawyer’s not saying. He’s not referencing how he wanted a fresh start. He’s not talking about what he left behind—a home and a scarred heart.
The man must still have a lock on that organ in his chest. Understandable.
“It grows on you,” I add, keeping my answer friendly, since that’s absolutely the zone I need to stay in with Sawyer.
He arches a brow—doubtful, or maybe challenging. Knowing him, challenging.
And challenging to my libido, since it makes it sit up and take notice. Again. Damn zing racing down my chest, straight between my thighs.
My inner voice really needs to have a chat with my sex drive. Because Sawyer and I aren’t a thing. We’re just co-workers trying to win a client.
At least Linus is here as a buffer to my thoughts throughout the meal.
When we finish up the meal at Happy Place, it’s nearly nine-thirty—Linus likes to chat—and we say good night to the mayor and hop into Sawyer’s car.
He drives me home along Main Street, the streetlamps flickering under the night sky, then turns toward my neighborhood as the moon takes over, lighting the way along the tiny bungalows. A playlist streams from his phone—a Sam Cooke song, I think. When we reach my driveway, I spot a familiar face in the window—Captain has pushed a curtain aside, and his handsome snout is pressed against the pane.
My heart stutters as I wave to my dog. I’m always happy to see him, but tonight I’m weirdly reluctant to go inside. Maybe it’s the way Sawyer’s citrus-and-cedar scent has faded but still drifts past my nose every now and then when we’re in his car. It smells like him, like a man who loves to eat, who thinks I’m sexy, who knows how to fuck me well.
All the more reason to get out of this car. I’m not simply borderline turned on from his pitch in the office. I’ve been turned on through the whole meal, now that I think about it.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, reaching for the door, but our phones buzz at the same time. I shoot him a quick, hopeful look before I grab mine from my purse.
He snags his from the console.
My pulse races as I click on my texts.
And I gasp. There’s a text from Linus to both of us. All caps: CHECK YOUR EMAIL!!!
With breath held and champagne ready to pop, I fly to my inbox, where there’s an email from Alexandra Bourbon addressed to both of us.
We’d like to hire Chloe as a consultant and shoot scenes at Dog Tails. Details to come.
I turn to Sawyer, a thrill rushing through me, bubbles flowing under my skin. I wanted this so badly, I almost didn’t let myself believe it could happen. “Is this real?”
His eyes flash with a look that’s both cocky and pleased. “It’s all real, sweetheart. You did it.”
“We did it,” I correct as fireworks burst in my chest.
“We fucking did,” he adds.
“I could kiss you,” I blurt out.
His lips shift slightly, a hint of a lopsided grin. An eyebrow arches. His gaze roams up and down my body, like he’s assessing me. Or maybe the question. For a brief moment, hesitation flickers in his irises. Maybe even resistance. His jaw tightens, and he drags a hand through his hair.
I’m about to say, Just kidding, because maybe we’re both better off that way. No, we definitely are. I shouldn’t want this. I really shouldn’t.
But then he lifts a hand and curls it around the back of my neck, his strong fingers touching the strands of my hair, his warm skin meeting mine. “Do it,” he says in a command.
“Challenge accepted,” I say, then I lean closer and brush my lips to his.
18
BAD IDEAS
SAWYER
This mouth. Her scent. The sounds she makes.
They all go to my head so fast, it’s like a circuit breaker’s about to trip. Fuses are lit, and the grid’s about to overload.
All warning signs flash bright red.
And I know, I fucking know, I should stop.
Not only do we work together, we’re about to work together even more closely. Plus, she knows some serious secret shit about my charred heart thanks to our dessert contest one night in San Francisco.
But does that stop me from crushing my mouth to hers? Nope. I devour her kiss, our tongues skating together, our lips chasing the high that comes from this kind of chemistry. Chemistry that snaps, that crackles, that floods my goddamn bones.
My hand covers her cheek, my fingers brushing those strands of auburn hair that fall in soft, silky waves against me. I grip her face harder, needing to get closer and closer still.