Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 111278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
He held out his hand and she slid her hands into his. Then she remembered that he’d said she looked tired.
“Oh wait.” She drew back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I might try to put on some more make-up. Don’t want to scare anyone.”
He frowned. “You look gorgeous. Why would you scare anyone?”
“You said I look tired.” Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go out at all.
He wrapped an arm around her waist. “You look better than perfect, Gwen Anderson. You look delectable. You don’t need anything else.”
Her stomach growled right then. It had the worst timing.
“Other than breakfast. Let’s go.”
With a nod, she grabbed her handbag.
“Got your key card?” he asked.
“Yep, it’s already in my bag.”
“Good girl.”
He slid his hand around hers as he led her to the elevator and pressed the button. Unable to stop herself, she leaned against his arm, her cheek resting on his bicep. He glanced down at her, then he kissed the top of her head.
“You feel pretty right just there.”
Yeah, he felt pretty right to her as well.
Twenty minutes later and she knew she’d made a mistake.
She stared forlornly down at her cut-up fruit and low-fat yogurt. Then over to his poached eggs on whole wheat toast with a side of homemade fries.
God damn it.
Definitely a mistake.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Is there something wrong with your breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“What is it? Does it taste funny?”
“It tastes awful.”
“It does? Why?” He dragged the bowl toward him.
“Because I hate fruit.”
“What?” He looked at her.
“I hate fruit. Well, most fruit. I like pineapple. By itself, not in anything. Like on pizza—fruit is not supposed to be on a pizza. But otherwise, I hate fruit.”
He blinked. “Um, why would you order a fruit salad if you hate fruit?”
She knew she was acting insane. She felt crazy. And she couldn’t blame it on the sleepless night.
“I was trying to be healthy.”
“By ordering something you hate? Which would leave you starving? I don’t think that sounds very healthy.”
“Well, if you’re going to be all logical about it, then no,” she groaned.
“Darling girl. You don’t have to eat things you hate in the name of being healthy.”
“Are you sure? Because I really do dislike most fruit. And a vast majority of vegetables and those are the things I’m supposed to be eating.”
He frowned. “Says who?”
“Everyone,” she told him vaguely.
“Okay. So yes, fruit and vegetables are good for you. But you can balance things out. You don’t have to eat whole bowls of fruit for breakfast.”
“Good. Because I wasn’t going to.”
“You know, eggs are a good form of protein, and they’ll also fill you up for longer. Here, let’s swap.”
“We can’t swap.” She wasn’t taking his breakfast.
“It’s fine, Shortcake. I like fruit.”
“No. I don’t want to take your breakfast.”
“Gwen,” he said warningly. “You need to eat. Do I need to . . . damn it.”
She eyed him worriedly.
“One of those instances of my Daddy instincts wanting to take over. Right . . . I’ll just order some more eggs and we can share the toast and fries, all right?”
“Okay.”
“Good girl.”
Fuck. He was killing her here. As he got up to order some more eggs, she spotted Liv, their server from the other night, standing outside the window and talking to a dark-haired guy with a leather jacket on.
Nothing wrong with that, except . . . her body language was all wrong. Gwen had a good read on body language after spending years in courtrooms.
Liv was scared of this guy.
But as Gwen stood, ready to go out there, the guy leaned in and kissed Liv. And she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Had she been wrong?
Because that didn’t look like someone who was scared now. And when he drew back, Liv was smiling up at him.
Gwen let out a deep breath, feeling unsure.
“What’s wrong?”
She glanced up into Dominic’s face. He was peering out the window, but when she turned back there was no one standing in the alley anymore.
“Does Liv have a boyfriend?” she asked.
“Liv? Actually, yes. I remember her saying something about him. Why? Did something happen?”
“No. I think I’m so tired that I’m imagining things. I thought she looked scared of this guy, but then she didn’t. Don’t mind me. I should have had an energy drink when I first got up.” Maybe then her brain wouldn’t be so fired.
He eyed her before cutting into his eggs. “How often do you drink those?”
“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe three or four.”
“A week?”
“Um, a day.”
“Gwen. Isn’t the recommended daily limit two?”
“Is it? I’m not great at reading fine print.”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“Was. Was a lawyer.”
She stared in shock as he held out his fork to her, with the egg speared on the end.
“Um.”
“Eat. I don’t have any germs.”
“I should hope not. I’d prefer to know those sorts of things before someone sticks their tongue in my mouth.”
He just grinned and shook his head. “Noted. Eat.”