Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
“The Westbrook Project?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “That one.”
“I think it might be, too. I was going to talk to you about it. I did some work on it already.”
“You did?” she queries.
“I did.”
She inhales and breathes out on her reply. “I guess that’s why you’re CEO.”
“You’re at the same place I’ve landed on this, baby. I have some ideas we can debate.” I motion with my head. “Let’s go pack up. We have a chopper waiting on us.”
She shuts her MacBook and stuffs it in her briefcase. “I hope your ideas are better than mine. I’ve been worried over this for an hour with no answers.” She stands and crosses the room to stop right in front of me, but she doesn’t touch me. Those emerald eyes search my face. “You’re still feeling—” She catches herself as if she’s afraid we might be heard. “How are you doing with that situation we were dealing with?”
There’s concern in her face, in her tone. It sideswipes me and hits me as hard as that look we’d shared. When has anyone, since my mother died, worried about me? Why have I let this woman close enough for it to happen? Why do I not want to push back? And I don’t. I say simply, “I’m okay.”
She doesn’t leave it alone. She pushes for more. “Okay?” she prods.
“The edge is off,” I say. “And thanks to the drugs you got me, it happened quickly. That usually means it’s not going to get worse.”
She motions toward the outer office. “Are we alone?”
“Yes. We’re alone.”
She closes the small space between us, lowering her voice, as if “alone” doesn’t make her quite feel alone. “Then I was thinking that surely Royce could get you medication under an alias.”
I pull her to me. “I’m better. It’s under control.”
“This time,” she says, “but what if this means your headaches are coming back? It would be good to be prepared.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought, it seems.”
“Yes, actually. I have. I mean, how are you going to beat Elijah at his game, win over the stockholders, fight the press, and give me unlimited orgasms while battling migraines? That’s impossible, even for a machine like yourself.”
She delivers the words without even a smile, but I laugh. God this woman makes me laugh and I don’t even know what to do with that. “Unlimited, huh?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “I do deserve quite a lot, considering what an asshole you’ve been to me, but I’ll trade you one for one. Maybe if I give you your fair share, you’ll forget how to be an asshole.”
“Maybe,” I tease. “Or maybe not.”
“Probably not,” she says. “But I have to try.”
I sober quickly with her determination, stroking a lock of hair from her face, a crazy, unfamiliar tenderness for this woman overtaking me. “There’s a lot of things I could forget with you, Carrie West, but you might wish I didn’t.”
She catches my hand. “But you’re not going to make that decision for me, remember?”
“I remember. All too well.” I kiss her and force myself to release her for the walk to the elevator. I don’t remember ever having to force myself to let go of a woman, not until Carrie.
Chapter thirty-four
Reid
Carrie and I step into the elevator on our way to the lobby and out of the West Enterprise offices, where I will have her to myself. The doors shut, sealing us inside the confined space where we stand side by side, our bodies close but not touching. The floral scent of her teases my nostrils, and I swear I can almost taste this woman on my tongue.
Floors click by and I have never in my life wanted to touch a woman the way I do this one. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking?” I ask without looking at her.
“Does it involve you ripping my panties yet again?”
“Yes,” I say, as we turn to face each other. “But only after I hit the stop button and shove you against the wall. Then I’d yank your shirt up, rip your panties off, and fuck you.”
The car lands on the bottom level and the doors start to open, the sound of voices on the other side lifting in the air. “Another time?” she asks as if I’ve just invited her for coffee.
“Another time,” I promise, winking at her as we face forward to be greeted by two elderly women appearing before us. I hold the door.
Carrie glances over at me, offering me a mischievous smile before she exits the car. I allow the ladies to enter, give them both a nod and then I exit. Carrie is waiting on me nearby, and together we fall into step and depart the building. “Your mother really did teach you manners,” she comments as we start our walk toward our neighborhood.