Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
He nodded. “Damn straight I did.”
He was thankful when she put her hands on her hips. “Why did you do that? No,”—she shook her head—“why didn’t you tell me you did that?”
“He obviously told you,” Jamie pointed out.
“Yes, he did, right before I boarded this yacht.”
That was surprising.
“Let’s return to my earlier question,” she suggested. “Why did you do that?”
“Because the man is a motherfucker, but he’s not stupid, and he knew he’d made the biggest mistake in his life, and I wanted to rub that shit in. I did, and I enjoyed every fucking second of it.”
She stared at him, her eyes moving all over his face, then down to his jacket, where her phone was hidden.
Some understanding dawned, she lifted her gaze to his and said, “These shoes look like they can perform miracles, but they aren’t meant to be worn for a full bartending shift.”
He felt his lips twitch. “Then finish up and let’s sit down.”
She made short work of completing the mojitos. The moment she was done, he claimed both of the glasses and jerked his head toward a couch.
He followed her there. She arranged herself on the seat. He handed her the drink and folded down beside her.
She was taking a sip, and he was trying not to notice how much he liked her perfectly shaped almond nails painted a shocking scarlet, when he ordered, “Now explain what just occurred to you.”
She gave him an annoyed side eye he’d seen before, considering she often found it vexing he knew her so well, even when they weren’t having problems.
She did this before she dropped her drink to the knee she’d crossed over her other long leg, and she said, “The fact you seem to hate Roland more than even I do is about AJ.”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
And it absolutely was about his loathing of cheaters because his father was an unapologetic womanizer.
It was also about Belinda fucking her dealer to get her fix after Jamie cut her off financially in a last-ditch effort to curtail her addiction.
But knowing much more about that illness now than he did when he was in the throes of dealing with hers, he understood it was a symptom of her illness. It was one of the more unpleasant ones, on a list of symptoms that were all grossly unpleasant. Though he understood—even if it was difficult to live with—knowing where she was in her disease, it was nearly impossible for her not to engage in that behavior.
His father was another matter.
“Which brings me to the unfortunate pass that I can’t be irritated at you for your behavior,” Nora finished.
He smiled over the rim of his glass and repeated, “Yes.”
“Even if it’s wholly outrageous you took a call on my phone against my wishes, then confiscated it, again, against my wishes.”
He repeated, “Yes.”
She harrumphed and sipped her drink.
Christ, she was something.
He took a sip of his drink.
Yes, she was something.
A simple mojito she’d mixed in a snit, and it was the best he’d ever tasted. Not that he was a mojito man, but he hadn’t had just one prior to the one in is hand. It was just that Nora had a particular talent behind a bar.
Wordlessly, she raised a hand, palm up, scarlet-tipped fingers slightly curled.
With a wry grin, he slid her phone out of his jacket pocket and placed it in her hand.
She set it on the couch beside her.
“At this juncture, it might be good we make some ground rules,” he noted.
“If you’re about to suggest we get along, don’t waste your breath. I believe the Art of War states the enemy of your enemy is your enemy.”
Jamie chuckled. “Not exactly.”
She took another sip and stated, “We’ll have dinner, and it will be pleasant, because we’ll be discussing the varied acts of revenge we’ll engage in against our former loved ones the moment we return to the city. Once those plans are set, in the morning, all bets are off.”
“They think they’re looking after us,” he said quietly.
Her head tilted. “Are you no longer angry?”
He locked eyes with her. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m angry.”
She studied him, and as she did, the tip of her pink tongue appeared in order to travel along her full lower lip.
He watched.
Avidly.
Oh, yes.
He was angry.
“However, when I referred to ground rules, I meant we should try to make the most of what could be a relaxing week and start by agreeing we’re not going to dress for dinner,” he clarified.
She gasped in horror, and since she was Nora Ellington, it was genuine.
She didn’t hesitate to explain her reaction. “I packed an entire bag with evening wear.”
Jamie sunk deeper into the couch and sighed.
Then he murmured into his drink, “Fine.”
She aimed a smug smile into her glass before she took another sip, making him wonder what other ways he could coax her to feel that smugness.