Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
His shoulders are broad and his stance is commanding. All eyes watch him stride through the restaurant like he owns the place. His thick, wavy hair is ink black with a glossy shine any woman would die for—myself included.
Forget the simple act of wearing clothes. His suit moves like it’s upholstered to his form. Lucky suit. His pace slows as he approaches the bar, which happens to be close to my table. Lucky me.
His thick biceps flex as he pulls out a barstool and takes a seat. Dammit. Now his back is all I can see—not that I’m complaining. He has a really nice backside.
“Sorry for your wait, miss. Here’s your drink.” Jeffery seems out of breath as he places a champagne glass full of bubbling liquid in front of me.
“Thank you,” I say before taking a sip.
As the cool liquid hits my tongue and quickly disappears, the handsome businessman twists on his barstool. He scans the room, stopping when his eyes land on me, meeting mine dead on.
Whoa …
His piercing dark eyes regard me without expression. I freeze in place, my glass still touching my lips, finding it difficult to breathe. Good lord, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, aside from movies or magazines, and even then, I can’t think of a guy hotter than him.
I turn in my chair and look behind me, fully expecting to find someone else standing there, like a beautiful woman worthy of his handsomeness. But the space is empty. I face forward again, my eyes reconnecting with this gorgeous stranger, overwhelmed he’s giving me his full attention.
He shakes his head, and I notice a small rise at the corner of his full lips. The next thing I know, he gives me a dazzling smile, and a strange rush washes over me.
I think I just swooned and had my Jake Ryan “yeah, you” moment. Except the hot guy isn’t a high school senior leaning against a sports car; he’s a thirty-something suited sex god sitting at a bar in freaking New York City.
Glancing down at my dress, I grimace. The ruffle top reminds me of Molly Ringwald’s bridesmaid dress in Sixteen Candles. Maybe it’s time to upgrade my pretty-in-pink look.
I give him a weak smile in return, and consider this a monumental feat since I can’t remember my own name. He brings a glass of amber liquid to his lips. His eyes never leave mine as he takes a sip, showing off his practiced seduction skills.
He licks his lips, and that devastating smile aimed right at me returns. My nipples react, trying to cut through the cotton of my thin dress. They’ve never met a man like this, or really any man, because he’s nothing like the boys from college. He’s a lethal and way-too-old-for-me man. Maybe …
“Excuse me, miss. Have you decided on what to order?”
Jeffrey stands in front of me with a pen in his hand, blocking the eye candy who was eyeing me, thus destroying my swoony high.
“Oh yeah, order,” I sputter as Jeffery waits for an answer.
“Yes, I’m assuming you’re here for dinner, or maybe you’re waiting on someone to join you?” His eyebrows rise in question.
“I’m sorry,” I manage while sitting up in my chair. “May I please have the lentil soup?”
“And for your main course?” Jeffrey asks.
“Just the soup.” Ugh. I need to find a place where I can eat a meal for less than fifty dollars.
“Another prosecco?” he asks, but I surely don’t need more with my current brain buzz. Besides, I need to hit the sidewalks tomorrow morning in search of a job, not a hangover cure.
“No thanks. Just water.”
With a quick nod, Jeffery slides my dinner menu under his arm and walks toward the back of the crowded restaurant.
Unable to resist the gorgeous man magnet, I turn back to find him still sitting sideways on the barstool turned toward me. He’s focused on his phone, his long, capable fingers dwarfing it. Maggie has this crazy theory. She believes a man’s penis is roughly double the size of his thumb, which would make this man extremely blessed below the belt.
His killer jawline has more stubble than a five o’clock shadow, but he doesn’t have a full beard. It would be a crime against Mother Nature and the humans in his presence to fully cover a jaw like his.
After a few minutes, he sets his phone down on the bar. With a slight smile, he picks up his drink and raises it in a toast … to me. I can’t believe he’s still looking my way. What universe am I in?
I raise my glass to match his and take a sip, but nothing meets my lips. I pull my glass away and eye it. Empty. He laughs at my situation, and I join him. He holds up a finger, asking me to wait, and swivels forward on his seat, signaling the bartender over to him.