The Love Plot Read Online Samantha Young

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
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Rafe glanced over it all, bemused.

“I guess you’re used to it.”

His gaze met mine. “I suppose I am. Does it seem ridiculous to you?”

Since he sounded genuinely interested, I shrugged. “Not for a cause. If this is what it takes to lure wealthy people out to donate money to something worthwhile, then why not?”

He smiled wryly. “Yes, my mother is excellent at that.”

I chuckled and turned in my seat to watch the guests flow into the room. A lot of people hadn’t taken their seats yet as they caught up with each other.

“I come to these events for my family. Otherwise, this kind of socializing wouldn’t be my choice.”

Turning to study his too-handsome face, I smiled. “Would any kind of socializing be?”

He gave me a dark but amused look. “You’re funny.”

I had to hold back more laughter and sought to change the subject. “Are you on call tonight?”

“No. Owen is.”

“So how does that work? How do people get in contact with you if they have a pet emergency?”

“We each have a separate cell and our patients’ owners have an emergency contact number that forwards to those cells. I switched mine off tonight, so only Owen will receive the calls.”

“Do you get a lot of emergency calls?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Our patient list is fairly small in big-picture terms, but we’re already pushed at this point.”

“Which is why you’re considering a third vet?”

“Exactly.”

“You should do it if you can.” I touched his knee without thinking, and his gaze dropped to my hand. I pulled back, thinking his look meant I shouldn’t touch him. Though I was a tactile person, I’d learned to read people to make sure they were comfortable with my casual touches. “You don’t want to burn out.”

His gaze rose to mine and he said matter-of-factly, “You can touch me. It makes this whole thing more believable if you do.”

I swallowed around the sudden sensation of my racing heart. “Right.” Needing to break our intense eye contact, I turned to observe the room, noting that more people were heading to their seats. Then I spotted Pippa talking to two women who looked like they could be mother and daughter.

Rafe groaned beside me.

“What?”

“Pippa.”

“What about her?”

Rafe leaned into me, his breath tickling my cheek as he murmured, “Those women she’s talking to . . . the younger one is the person she tried to set me up with for this event.”

I turned my head slightly, bringing our faces just inches apart. “It sounds like Pippa is worse than your mom.”

“In some ways, she is. I don’t think she even knows why she’s so set on seeing me settled.” His attention moved from his sister-in-law to me, and his eyes narrowed as he realized how close we were. But he didn’t move back. Instead, he searched my eyes.

My heartbeat sprinted, and I was almost afraid to breathe.

Needing to break that tension again, I wrenched my gaze from his and found Pippa shooting us quick glances. “What do you think she’d do if I yelled at her across the room about leaving peanut butter and jelly in my sheets?”

Rafe’s answer was to move away, but only because he’d thrown his head back in laughter.

Butterflies raged to life as pleasure washed over me at the sight. He grinned at me, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“See, now you’ve made me want to do it.”

He chuckled. “Part of me wants you to, but I doubt she or my mother would forgive you.”

“Shame.” I turned in my seat to face the table. “If I weren’t so darn set on making a good impression, I could have some fun.”

“Be yourself,” Rafe surprised me by saying. “Just the kind of self who is committed to me. That’s all I want them to see.”

Before long, our table had filled, and Rafe introduced me to the people he knew. There was a couple he’d never met before and so we made quick introductions. Otherwise, the table was so big we didn’t really have to make conversation with them. In fact, Rafe made it clear to me he didn’t want to by constantly leaning in to murmur in my ear. He asked if I was enjoying myself, if my food was okay, what I thought of the music, what I’d usually be doing on a Saturday night. By the time the meal was over and the auction was soon to start, we’d turned toward each other in our seats, our knees touching as we talked about our weeks.

I told Rafe about the birthday party I worked the night before for an eleven-year-old boy who was a Lord of the Rings fan. His parents hired me as Arwen, and a colleague I’d worked with only once before was Gandalf. The kid had spent most of the night coming on to me.

“An eleven-year-old. What is happening to our youth?”


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