Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I turn, a smile spreading across my lips when I see how he’s looking at me: playful, youthful. It’s like he’s sending a text that only exists in our minds. Let’s just live in the moment…
“That sounds like a plan,” I murmur.
“I know a place. A jazz lounge. It’s intimate.”
More of those tempting tingles dance over me when he says this. Being intimate with him is the last thing I should want, obviously, but it’s not. It’s the first thing I want. It’s the only thing I want. Right now, at least.
Being close to him is like a drug. At least when we’re texting, I can put down my phone. I can’t put down my desire when he’s so close and when I can smell his cologne, his manly musk.
“But don’t go thinking you can take advantage of me,” he says playfully. “It’s not a date. And I know what you’re like, Piper. Full of surprises.”
“Me take advantage of you?” I laugh, slapping him playfully on the arm.
Oops, big mistake. I feel his solid muscles through his shirt. I want to grab him again, to sink my hand into his solidness.
He parks outside the restaurant, then walks around to my side of the car as if he’s going to open the door for me. Before he can, I push it open and hop out.
He smirks. “I get it. You don’t need a Prince Charming.”
“Not a date, remember?”
He bows. “Then I will let my chivalry die.”
“Could you let your cheesiness die too?” I say, then playfully slap him on the arm again. Anybody might think I’m making excuses to touch him. “I’m just kidding. I kind of like it.”
“Why do I feel you added ‘kind of’ just so you don’t look too interested, huh, Beautiful?”
“Beautiful,” I repeat, shaking my head, laughing. “Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t do that.” He grabs my arms, warm shivers sizzling throughout my body. “You are beautiful…”
He leans in. Is he going to kiss me? This isn't good. What the heck have I started?
“This place looks great,” I say, stepping back and gesturing at the lighted, golden letters of the jazz-themed restaurant.
His eyes have a wild look… almost lost. Like he doesn’t understand how he came so close to kissing me just now, it reminds me of the party three years ago, the look in his eyes then, the instant obsession. He bites down, almost looking like he regrets agreeing to this.
“We don’t have t—”
“It is,” he interrupts. “Great, I mean. Let’s get going…”
We walk into the restaurant together, getting a table in the corner. A live band plays soft, improvisational music. The restaurant isn’t busy, but it’s not quiet either. There are people here who might recognize the CEO of a local, wildly successful company.
“Drink?” he says.
“I think I’ll stick to sparkling water,” I murmur.
He nods knowingly. Half a glass of wine might be the one thing between me white-knuckling my resolve and giving into my desire. “Me too.”
When the waiter leaves to get our drinks, I notice Logan looking at a family in the corner of the room. He’s got a slight smile on his lips and a dreamy, faraway glint in his eyes. The boy sits in a highchair, babbling, smiling, and throwing his arms up and down in pure childish joy.
“What are you thinking about with that dreamy look in your eyes?”
He turns to me like he’s waking from a dream. “Sorry?”
“Don’t apologize. It was cute.”
He laughs gruffly. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been called cute.”
“Don’t avoid the question.”
He seems relieved when the waiter arrives, giving him time to compose his answer or think of a way of avoiding answering. But I won’t let him off the hook that easily.
“Well?” I ask.
He sips his water, taking his sweet time.
“I’m going to tip that glass so it spills all over your shirt if you don’t hurry up!”
He sets his glass down, smiling. I love the way he looks at me. I love how interested he seems, curious, wanting to get to know me even more.
“I was just thinking what a wonderful thing it is,” he says, “seeing a child happy and loved, not having to worry about anything bad happening. Not having to worry about where he came from, where he’s going, or… anything.”
I smile, but there’s a shade of sadness to it. “You didn’t have that?”
He looks down at the table. “I didn’t mean for that comment to turn this into a pity party.”
“Hey, don’t do that. It’s not a pity party. We’re just talking. It was different for us. Elliot saved me.” We both pause, silently acknowledging my brother, his best friend, knowing every time we mention him is a reminder of how wrong this is. “But you were in the system.”
“The system has good parts,” he mutters. “A few years ago, I volunteered and saw some of those good parts.”