Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Tell me,” Michaela said, “did you start reading the Camilla Fernsby mysteries because the detective has your name?”
Yeah, Fernsby. Why is the detective’s name the same as yours? Troy didn’t say that, but he did wait with bated breath to hear the answer. Or maybe he just liked looking at Michaela.
Fernsby didn’t even smile. “With that name, I knew the mysteries must be superb.”
Damn, it was the same kind of non-answer he’d already given Troy.
Then they discussed every book Mathilda Sullivan had ever written, their favorite scenes, and the fact that neither could pick a favorite book because they both loved them all.
And not once did Michaela look at Troy.
He was obviously chopped liver in her book.
Serendipity? Michaela could only think so. She hadn’t called Troy to find out how his date had gone, sitting on her hands almost all day to stop herself from picking up the phone and consequently not getting much done. She hadn’t called Alice either. Michaela had a rule to wait two days before tackling a client, if they hadn’t already called her. Sometimes people needed time to digest the event.
But Troy was here. And so damned delicious in black jeans and a leather jacket clinging tightly to his incredible form that it was all she could do not to let her mouth water. Thank God Fernsby was here and she could talk books and Mathilda Sullivan.
The flushed guy behind them opened his mouth to mutter, “I suppose she’s not buying a book either.”
Fernsby flashed him a look, and the man clamped his lips shut.
It was rude to take cuts, though. “I’ll stay here until the door opens,” she said, “then go to the back of the line.”
But Fernsby practically snarled, “I’ve been saving this spot. I stood here all afternoon so that you and I could be first in line. So, my dear Michaela, you are not taking cuts.”
The man behind them kept his mouth shut, but his eyes were still shooting daggers. After Fernsby’s proclamation, she didn’t have a choice. Two women exited the store, each carrying a box of books. Michaela had preordered her copy—in fact, it was a requirement to get in. It would have been a total mob scene if people not only had to wait in line to get a signed copy, but also to pay for it. Pre-ordering was genius. One woman ticked names off the list while the other handed out books.
The woman with the clipboard stared aghast at Troy when he said he hadn’t bought a book. She stuttered, “Bu-but, sir, we can’t accommodate purchases at this time.”
She seemed to melt beneath the power of Troy’s smile. “I understand completely. I won’t try to buy a book or have one signed, I promise.”
The store clerk sighed as if he’d whispered a sweet nothing, then both moved on.
The man certainly had an effect on the female population. Michaela wanted to slap herself, because he had an effect on her too.
She noticed then that Fernsby was staring at the photo of Mathilda Sullivan on the dust jacket. While he was preoccupied, Michaela could no longer resist asking Troy, “How was your date last night?”
Then she wanted to smack herself again, because she sounded too interested. But no, it was only logical that she should ask.
Troy smiled the same smile that had made the store clerk stutter. “Alice was a delight. I liked her a lot. She’s a wonderful conversationalist. And she’s so accomplished. She was everything you advertised.”
Michaela wanted to scream as he held forth on Alice Fletcher’s amazing qualities.
Her thoughts literally whirling, she had to bite the tip of her tongue not to ask all the questions buzzing in her brain. Did you touch her? Did you kiss her? Did you sleep with her? Are you going to marry her? How many children will you have? Her mind had taken her ten years down the road.
She had to rein herself in, but her smile felt brittle. “That’s so nice.”
She was sure he’d at least kissed the woman. She looked down at his hands. He’d probably touched her too.
The sane voice in her head—which didn’t even sound like her own—shouted, Stop, stop, stop!
It was only that command that allowed her to hear what Troy was saying. “But the truth is, we didn’t click.” He used air quotes to get his meaning across. And with that bone-melting smile, he added, “So you still need to keep looking for someone great for Alice. She deserves the best.”
Michaela was torn between wondering who else to set up Alice with and jumping up and down for joy.
Until he asked, “Do you have anyone else in mind for me?”
The twinkle in his eye made her wonder if he was stringing her along, trying to make her jealous. But that was ridiculous. Why would he do that? Why would he even think he could?