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)
With that in mind, Elijah is back in my thoughts, and I head downstairs, pull my phone from my pocket to dial Royce, who answers on the first ring. “What do you have for me?” I ask, walking through the living room to exit onto the patio.
“If you mean about Elijah, we’re still working, but he has a couple of offshore accounts that look shady. More soon, but that should back him off if needed.”
“Excellent,” I say, leaning on the railing. “Exactly what I need. Get me proof as soon as possible.”
“Will do,” he agrees. “One thing before we hang up. I’ve been trying to catch up with you on a situation. Carrie wants me to help her investigate her father and I’m past due responding to my promise to follow up with her. I told her I’d do it, but I also told her I had to clear any conflict with you.”
I consider this a moment and decide my only hope that Carrie finds out what I can’t tell her is Royce, and I’m telling her what I can tonight. “I’d tell you to bill me, but there are some legal reasons some of the information you give her can’t be connected to me.”
“You want her to know,” he assumes.
“Hell yes I do, but I can’t tell her.”
“For legal reasons,” he assumes.
“Exactly.”
“I’m pretty good at finding out what no one else can.”
“It’s buried,” I say. “Good luck.”
He laughs. “I’ll tell my hacker brother Blake how little faith you have in him and the truth shall be found.”
“Warn me, man. I need a warning. She’s going to feel like I betrayed her.”
He’s silent several beats. “That sucks, but understood.”
We disconnect and my phone buzzes with a text message from Gabe: Get your ass to the motherfucking party.
“Reid.”
At the sound of Carrie’s voice, I happily ignore motherfucking Gabe and stick my phone back in my pocket. Turning, I find her standing in the doorway, looking good enough to eat in tight black jeans and an emerald green V-neck T-shirt. I’m instantly hot and hard, but then, this is Carrie. She keeps me hot and hard. “How much do you like macaroni and cheese?” I ask.
“I told you it’s my favorite. I love it. Why?”
I cross to stand in front of her, but I don’t touch her. Yet. “Then you shouldn’t have worn those jeans, because I’m going to have to take them off of you now.” I reach for her, my hand on her hip, dragging her against my own hips, the thick pulse of my erection at her belly.
“Oh no,” she says, catching my hand. “You promised me mac n’ cheese. You better deliver.”
“We can be fast and still have mac n’ cheese.”
“I’m starving, Reid. I’ll have to lay there and let you do all the work.”
I arch a brow. “And that’s a problem why?”
“The part where I said, I’m starving.”
“Right. You need food. Okay then. As long as we’re back here by five, we’ll have time to fuck before we head to the chopper.”
She laughs. “You’re crazy.”
My voice lowers, a rasp in its depth. “For you, baby, yes I am.”
“Reid,” she whispers softly and then smiles big. “Because I’m the only one not afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be,” I say grimly, hating that reminder.
Her hand flattens on my chest. “Stop trying to scare me off, Reid. I knew your reputation when I cuffed you to the bed. You didn’t scare me then. You won’t scare me now.”
“You haven’t met my family yet,” I joke, but I’m thinking about my father, not Gabe and Cat. I’m thinking about the fact that she’s just mimicked my thoughts. She did know my reputation. But she didn’t know who I was before I met her. And she damn sure didn’t know that my father hates her father like hers hates mine: passionately, vindictively, and with such perfect hate that it’s driving us right there with them.
Chapter forty-six
Carrie
The restaurant has a balcony with a stunning ocean view and Reid and I claim a cozy corner table that will allow us to eat and work, as is the plan we determined we’d follow right before leaving the cottage. We order what the waiter declares to be “world famous” macaroni n’ cheese, as well as a wine Reid wants me to try, which he favors. Soon we have our glasses filled and I decide I too love this wine. “Do I dare ask how much it costs?”
“Don’t,” he says. “Just enjoy it.” His voice is warm and his eyes warmer.
“I am,” I say, the spark between us damn near igniting. “Very much,” I add, and when I’d once felt perpetual anger toward Reid, I now feel connected. On some unspoken level we understand each other and yet, I understand too little about Reid. “But,” I add, setting down my glass, “I better drink cautiously. I’m meeting your family tonight. I can’t imagine a room with three Maxwell siblings.”