Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
She laughed. “Excuse me if I happen to care more about things like humor or personality than strictly appearance. But let’s see how you rate, given your personality is terrible and your jokes are worse…”
She stepped back in mock seriousness and crossed her arms over her chest, assessing him for the first time since he’d intercepted her. He wore a crisp green dress shirt, made from quality material and ribbed with a darker green to give it a little depth. The first couple of buttons had been left undone, showing his man-cleavage, that indent at the top part of the chest that hinted at the large pecs filling out the shirt. It was pulled a little too tightly over his shoulders, not tailored, and molded to his popping biceps. A shiny black belt secured his black slacks in place, the ends dusting the tops of his dress shoes. His dark hair was parted on the side and combed like a 1950s do, and while she usually wouldn’t be into that, on him it made the spit dry up in her mouth. Because that goodie-goodie look offset the sharp lines of his face and the arching brows over those heavy-lidded eyes.
“Hideous,” she croaked, then had to clear her throat and will some moisture back into her mouth. “Absolutely terrible. Anti-hot. You’re so not hot, you leach all the hotness out of the rest of the world.”
His eyes sparkled harder. She wished, just once, he’d show her a smile.
“Shall I do you now?” he asked, a gleam of competitiveness in his eyes.
“Yeah. Wait…” She looked around and then took a seat on the little bench.
“Ready?” he asked, playing along.
“No, wait.” She tossed her hair, blow-dried and lightly curled for dinner, over her head so it was all on one side. Then she crossed her legs at the ankle and swung her knees his way, making her dress ride up to mid-thigh. Leaning back, she gave him a seductive pose she’d seen in a million magazines with women a lot better at it and made a kissy face with one eye half squinted. She was sure she looked ridiculous.
“Now?” he asked, his voice suddenly subdued. His intense gaze traced her body.
Her stomach fluttered as his gaze returned to hers, deep and penetrating.
“Now,” she responded, a lot too breathy.
“You are absolutely stunning,” he started. “I haven’t seen a woman as beautiful as you since…” He didn’t finish that thought. She swallowed hard and suddenly felt strangely exposed. “But if I have to take your humor and personality into account…boy, are you awful.”
She spat out a laugh, slipping in her pose and nearly sliding off the bench entirely.
He grabbed her before she got far, hauling her up, much too close. Much too warm. His cologne smelled like cedar wood and nutmeg and man, a delicious combination that soaked into her senses.
“Should I just go punch myself in the face now, then?” he asked when she righted herself and stepped back, his hands slow to fall from her arms.
“Definitely, yes. Past time.”
He nodded and stepped toward the door, but hesitated before opening it. “I feel like I should warn you… Patty invited the vampire. No idea why. He doesn’t eat. It’s a small party, and out of all the people she had to choose from, she chose the blood drinker. Here we are.”
Brochan
Brochan watched a look of incredulity flit across Nessa’s face before she threw back her head and started laughing. “Here we are, indeed.”
“At least we have Ulric and Jasper. Ulric can be counted on to keep conversation going.”
“Ulric can? My dear sir, you have Patty in there. She’s a one-woman show. We’re in good hands.”
God, he loved her smile. So bright and carefree, as if it could chase away all the clouds in a thunderstorm.
“Just one thing, though,” she said. “You didn’t lock your drawers, right? You know, in case I get bored and want to snoop through your things.”
An uncomfortable feeling lodged in his gut. He had family pictures in some of those drawers. Keepsakes from a life lost. He didn’t want someone scrutinizing those, or telling him he should move on. Telling him it wasn’t good to hold on so tightly. And even though she’d said it jokingly, she was exactly the type to go through drawers. To snoop. To gather information she might need on a rainy day. They were opposites in how they viewed the world, both of them too complicated for their own good. Maybe that meant they weren’t exactly compatible—not that either of them were looking for more than a distraction.
“Hey, whoa.” She put up her hands, alarm in her expression. “I’m kidding, bud. I am absolutely kidding. I’m going to keep my hands in my lap the whole time, promise. I’ll tell Patty to keep a close eye on me.”