Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
A laugh trickles out of my mouth. “Sure, babe. If you say so.”
We fall into step again, me still chuckling, and Maggie apparently using silence as punishment for my amusement. I wonder how she’d react if I tell her I view her silence as a reward. If I tell her she’s the first woman who doesn’t fawn all over me or coddle me. The women who tend to pursue me are vacuous fame chasers, trying to seduce me to further their own ambitions.
Not that I don’t like being seduced. Every now and then, however, I like the challenge of doing the seducing myself. A rare luxury, considering most women are ready to fuck me before I even ask. Hell, these days I don’t even have to ask.
“This is it,” Maggie says, breaking the drawn-out silence as we come to a stop in front of an older-looking high-rise with large balconies.
She uses a key to get into the lobby, then heads for the elevator without looking back to see if I’m following. It’s kinda cute, the way she pretends she’s doing me a favor by letting me come home with her. I know better, of course. The way she trembled against me during the kiss earlier proves the attraction between us is very mutual.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask as we step into the elevator.
She shoots me a dirty look. “Don’t make small talk.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re only wasting time.” The doors open with a loud buzz, and Maggie whisks out of the car, over her shoulder adding, “Neither of us has any illusions about why you’re here.”
The remark startles me, so much so that the elevator nearly closes on my toes. I push forward before the doors shut and hurry after Maggie. Another first, having to chase after a woman.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I catch up to her as she unlocks the door to her apartment.
“It means we both know how this night is going to end,” she replies, mocking me with my earlier words.
Any other time I would have a sexy comeback, but the second I enter Maggie’s apartment, I become speechless.
“This is where you live?” I finally demand. I’m gaping at her.
“Yeah. Is there a problem?”
There isn’t a problem, but I certainly hadn’t expected this. If I hadn’t seen Maggie unlock the door, I would think we were in the wrong apartment.
The place looks like somebody’s grandmother lives in it. The furniture, mostly plaid upholstery, is all mismatched. The paintings on the wall depict bland landscapes and the occasional kitten rolling around in a garden. Frilly pink tablecloths and doilies that appear handmade cover every table in the room, and I have to blink a few times to be sure, but I think I see photos of Cary Grant and a young Marlon Brando hanging over the TV.
The only item in the apartment that resembles anything modern is the steel drum sitting in the open-concept dining room, but I can’t quite figure that out either.
When I finish my scrutiny, I glance over and see the humor dancing in Maggie’s eyes.
“C’mon, say it,” she taunts.
“What?”
“How tacky it is. We both know you want to say it.”
I might’ve been living in Hollywood for the past ten years of my life, but I grew up in Ohio with a mother who’d instilled good manners in me. “It’s not tacky,” I lie. “Did you decorate it yourself?”
Laughter bubbles out of her throat. “Wow. Did you learn the art of bullshitting from the film industry or does it just come naturally to you?”
“What? No, I think this place is really something.” Something terrifying.
She laughs again. “Relax, Barrett. I didn’t decorate it. My roommate’s grandmother owns this place. When she moved, she made Summer promise not to change a thing.”
My ears perk. “You have a roommate?”
Her amused expression quickly dissolves into another frown. “Summer’s gone for the week—and she has a boyfriend. So wipe any sleazy notions of a threesome out of your head.”
How is it humanly possible that she keeps catching me off-guard like this?
My nostrils flare as I ponder the best way to respond. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”
“I don’t even know you.”
“You’re right, you don’t.” I offer a shrug. “For what it’s worth, the reason I asked about your roommate is because I wanted to make sure we’d be alone.”
“Well, we are.” Sighing, she crosses her arms. “So let’s just do this, okay?”
“Do what?”
“Let’s have sex.”
“No thanks.” I unzip my jacket and shrug it off my shoulders. “So, should I sleep on the couch or is there a spare room?”
“Excuse me?” She drops her arms and lets them dangle at her sides. “Did you just say ‘no thanks’?”
I toss my jacket on a nearby armchair. “That’s right, I did.”
When I meet her gaze, she has the gall to look confused. “You don’t want to have sex?”