Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"Yeah. He's a cardiologist. Plus, an absolute freak of nature in bed." I hopped off the stool and slid two hundred bucks across the bar. "I'm gonna run before I lose my self-respect and beg him to take me back."
"You're leaving?" She shot me a wide-eyed look. "You don't want to talk to him?"
I shook my head. “No, the last thing my heart needs is to be reminded of what I screwed up.” I shot a glance over my shoulder, then held out my arms and went in for a hug. "It was really nice meeting you," I said in her ear. And taking you down.
"You too. Maybe we'll see each other again? Oh, and thanks for the drinks."
I held the hug for another moment, just to make sure the knife was firmly in her back, then let go. I gave her a regretful smile, then made my way toward the exit.
Marcus would succeed. He was charming and sexy and—as far as she knew—a doctor with the sex skills of a porn star. I nodded to another member of this team, a man whose Google glass, in combination with my downtown condo's security cams, would properly document the entire evening.
I pushed through the revolving door of the bar and stepped out into the cool California night, a genuine smile lighting up my face.
Maybe she loved Lee. Maybe he loved her. But he was mine, whether they knew it or not.
Chapter 33
I was ready for the call when it came. Feet cocooned in a moisture wrap, propped on my coffee table, a Hulu-binge in full effect, my phone rang. I glanced at the clock and answered Marcus's call. "Give me good news."
"She didn't do it." He sounded defeated.
"What?" I sat forward, my feet coming off the table. "Why not?"
"I don't know. She just didn't. I didn't push it, stopped when she said no."
I rubbed my forehead and glanced toward the bedroom, where Brant was sleeping. "How far did you get?” I asked quietly.
"She came back to the condo. We kissed ... her shirt came off. Not much else."
"I thought your skills were better than that,” I snapped.
"You should have tested them out." The playful lilt of his sentence pushed me over the edge of poise.
"Fuck you, Marcus. This is bullshit. It should have been child’s play.”
"She's committed to her boyfriend. She started crying, saying she was making a mistake. What was I supposed to do, unzip and pull my cock out?"
I huffed in annoyance. "No. You did the right thing. It’s just … whatever. Let me know if she calls you. I'm gonna check the camera footage. Unless I say otherwise, carry on with the plan."
"Will do." He paused. "Either this guy's one in a million or you're a psychotic bitch."
I gave a sad smile. "Or both."
"Yeah. Or both." There was a pause and I hung up before he said anything else.
As Brant quietly snored from my bedroom, I logged into the security app for my downtown condo, a three thousand square foot palace I rarely set foot into. Starting the download of the evening's files, I called Don, the P.I. who had trailed the couple all evening.
He answered with a yawn. "I'm downloading the images from my camera now."
"Got anything good?"
"A few you'll like. I'll email them to you within the hour."
"The sooner the better."
I ended the call, tapped on the downloaded video file, and sat down to watch Marcus's failure.
He had tried, that was for sure. Done everything right. Hadn't chased, had let her come to him. Been aloof, yet sexual. Hadn't bragged about the condo but let her ooh and ahh over the place. When she had crawled onto his lap, he had fisted her hair in his hands, ground her hips into him enough to let her feel his arousal and his equipment. They had kissed ... she had been horny ... it had been close.
And then… I saw the moment he lost the war. Her brain and guilt had kicked into action and she had stiffened, then pulled away, moving into a chair. Lots of crying and hugging herself and rocking and all sorts of ohmygodwhathaveIdone drama. Marcus had stood awkwardly, at one point glancing toward a ceiling cam with a grimace. Then he sat next to her, pulled her into his arms and smoothed the top of her hair. He'd let her cry into his chest until she calmed.
Then, damn her to hell, she had stopped crying and started to talk to him about me. Tried to talk him into taking me back, said I was so nice and missed him and blah-blah-blah. I closed the video before my guilt took over.
Ugh. Why couldn't Molly have been a normal twenty-one-year-old drunk girl who succumbed to the sexy doctor with the big cock and fancy condo? She was dating a yard boy for heaven's sake, one who was flighty and irresponsible and MIA half the time. This should have been easy; I should have won.