Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“No.” I keep a straight face. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I’ve never seen a man so hit on in my life.” She grins wryly. “The women you attract are shameless.”
I chuckle into my drink. Elouise is a psychologist, perhaps fifty to fifty-five years old. She’s at a lot of conferences I go to, as she does the personality-trait testing. She sees a lot on the circuit. “Trust me, Elouise; it gets very boring after a while.” I glance around again and see Claire in the corner, talking with a group of men.
She’s here.
I watch her as she talks.
Her shoulder-length dark hair is full, and she’s wearing a black dress. It’s not showy or sexy. She’s understated. Sensible and undeniably alluring. So very different from the women I’m used to. My eyes roam up and down her body. She’s older than me, but I’m not sure by how much. Maybe a couple of years?
Elouise and I continue to talk, but my eyes stay fixed on Claire Anderson across the room. She’s talking and laughing with a man.
Who is he?
Hmm . . .
I’m going to go and talk to her. “Back in a moment,” I say as I head off in her direction. Just as I approach her, someone calls me.
“Mr. Miles.”
I turn and see an attractive blonde. She already hit on me at lunch. “Oh, hello,” I reply, feeling uncomfortable being in earshot of Claire.
“Melissa,” she says. “We met at lunch.”
“Yes, I remember, Melissa.” I smile.
The man who was standing with Claire walks to the bar, and she glances up, clearly hearing the woman and me.
“What are you doing later?” she asks. “Can we meet up for a drink?”
Claire rolls her eyes and turns her back to us.
Fuck . . .
“No, I don’t mix business and pleasure.” I fake a smile and keep walking to Claire. “Hello.”
She looks up at me deadpan, having heard what was just said. “Hi.” She sips her drink, unimpressed, and turns her gaze straight ahead.
“How was your massage?” I ask.
“Great.” She sips her drink.
God . . . she’s so rude.
“Are you going to look at me while I speak to you?” I ask.
Her eyes rise to meet mine, and my stomach unexpectedly flutters. “What do you want, Mr. Miles?”
I stare at her, confused as to what my stomach is doing. “Tristan. Call me Tristan.”
“No,” she replies flatly. “Calling you Tristan would mean that I want to be on a first-name basis with you.” Her tongue swipes over her bottom lip, and I feel it in my crotch. “And I don’t.”
“Claire.”
“Call me Mrs. Anderson.”
“Why are you being so rude?”
“I’m not being rude; I’m being honest. Would you prefer that I lie?”
Well . . . blow me down.
“Maybe,” I reply.
“It’s so lovely to see you, Tris. Let’s hang out and sing ‘Kumbaya’ around a campfire. I’ve missed your good looks and witty charm,” she replies without missing a beat. She smiles sweetly and bats her eyelashes for effect.
I smirk and clink my glass with hers. “Cheers. That’s more like it. Glad you’re getting into the spirit.”
She moves her chin in a come-here gesture, and I lean in, waiting for what she has to tell me. “Go away, Mr. Miles,” she whispers.
I chuckle, excited for the first time in a very long time. “No.”
Her gaze goes in front of her again. “I see you’re still as annoying as ever.”
“And I see you’re still taking those bitch pills.”
“Ah, yes.” She sighs. “Let’s blame my distaste for you on meds, shall we? There couldn’t possibly be another reason why you repulse me, could there now?”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. Women just don’t speak to me like this. “Repulse is a rather strong word, isn’t it?” I say as I join her in staring straight ahead. “I think the word you meant to use is fascinate.”
Her mouth curls up at the corners, and I know she’s struggling not to smile. “Go away, Mr. Miles,” she repeats.
“Do I fascinate you, Claire?”
“Call me Mrs. Anderson,” she whispers. “And you don’t have what it takes to fascinate me.”
Our eyes lock, and for the second time tonight my stomach flutters.
She has this aura surrounding her, elusive and enticing.
Controlling.
I bet she’d be fucking wild in bed. I get a vision of us together, naked, and I feel the throb of arousal between my legs. I purse my lips to hide my delight.
“Goodbye.” She walks off through the crowd, and I stare after her.
All right . . . I’ll admit it.
That woman is insanely fucking hot.
I watch her walk across the room as I troll my mind for a plan. This is possibly the only place I am going to see her. Hmm . . . what to do.
I take out my phone and call my brother. He answers after the first ring. “Hello, Tris.”
“Jameson,” I say as I watch her strike up a conversation with another man. “Change of plans.”