Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Well then, here’s to being single in the city.” She grins, and we clink our glasses once more, laughing this time.
Chapter 4
STEPPING IN
LUCAS
As soon as I reach the warehouse in New Jersey, I head toward the front entrance. I shouldn’t be looking forward to this meeting as much as I am, but there is no denying that I’ve been counting down the days over the last week.
I step inside the entryway, and my eyes zero in on Courtney immediately. I fight back a groan when I see what she has on. The last time I saw her she was wearing black dress pants that molded to her ass and a sheer top with a lace cami underneath that peeked through when she bent over. I thought that outfit was sexy, but today’s black dress, which is wrapped tightly around her body, accentuating her full breasts, small waist, wide hips, and long legs, might be the sexiest thing I have ever seen a woman wear—in or out of the bedroom. The only thing I would change is her hair. Today it’s up in a tight bun that exposes her delicate neck and soft face. I like her hair down; it reaches almost to her waist, and it looks so soft that my fingers itch to touch it, to wrap my hands in it as I kiss her, to feel it against my chest as she rides me or to see it spread out over my pillow as she sleeps.
As I walk over to her, I try not to puff out my chest when I see her checking me out the same way I was just checking her out. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“I just got here.” She smiles.
Her breath hitches when I wrap my hand around her upper arm and touch my lips to her soft cheek, getting a hint of the soft floral scent she’s wearing.
“Good.” I lean back, then wrap my fingers around her elbow so I can lead her into the showroom. “How have you been? How’s work?”
“I’ve been good. Work’s work. There is always some kind of excitement happening, but then again, with the cases Abby takes on, it’s not surprising.”
I drop my eyes down to hers, liking a fuck of a lot that even when she’s in heels I have to look down at her. “Abby’s your boss?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of lawyer is she?”
“She’s a divorce attorney, hence the constant excitement.”
“I bet,” I mutter.
Luckily, I didn’t have to fight Eva for anything in our divorce, but I have no doubt that if she hadn’t had another man waiting in the wings, things would have been ugly and drawn out.
“How have you been? How’s your daughter?” she asks, the second part of her question coming out soft.
“Been good, and Madeline is good. One of her classmates is having a sleepover birthday party Saturday, and she’s never been to one before so she’s looking forward to it.”
“That does sound like fun.”
“Fun for her and her friends, yeah. I’m guessing that it’s not going to be much fun for her friend’s parents, since they are going to have ten six-year-old girls in their house causing chaos.”
I smile as she starts to laugh.
I lead her toward the hardwood floors and pull out the sample that I’ve chosen for her house. “This is prettier in person than the image you saw on the computer.”
She runs her fingers over the rough wood. “I love that it’s not dark. My last house had dark wood, and you could see every speck of dust. I won’t have to worry about constantly cleaning so people don’t think I’m a slob when they see dog hair.”
“You have dogs?”
“Not yet. I want at least one, possibly more,” she tells me as she hands me back the piece of flooring.
“What kind of dog are you getting?”
“I don’t know.” Her brows draw together, and all I can think about is how cute she is. “Do you like dogs?”
“I grew up with them. My mom had a yorkie that used to yap all the time.” I smile. “Once my brothers and I were old enough to take care of a dog, we got a hound mix named Sherlock.”
“I’ve never had a dog before,” she tells me as we walk toward the appliance section of the warehouse. “I don’t even know if they are a lot of work.”
“Dogs are easy; cats are easier,” I tell her.
She tips her head to the side. “Maybe I should get a cat, then,” she says, looking thoughtful. I throw my head back and laugh loudly, then stop when she touches my arm softly.
“You have a great laugh.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat and wonder what the hell is going on in my head. The smallest touch from her sends my mind racing with a million dirty thoughts. “So this is your fridge.” I point out the top-of-the-line refrigerator; it includes a display screen.