Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Not like you to be drinking by the glass.” Nick points his thumb at his friend. “He’s one of those who likes the best of everything, so even if he only wants a glass, he’ll order a bottle of something very old and expensive and only have a glass.”
I shake my head. “How wasteful. You’d never catch me wasting wine.”
Nick laughs and calls the waitress over.
She stares right at me. “What can I get you?”
My heartbeat quickens and I glance between Ben and Nick. I can’t remember the last time I went to a restaurant and ordered for myself. Jed would always order for the both of us, depending on what he wanted to try. “Uh . . . gosh, I’m not sure. Whatever you suggest.”
Ben shoots me a disapproving glare. “Pick what you’d like.”
Nick interrupts the awkward pause. “I’m going to have the cod.”
“Cod,” I say, scanning the menu. “That sounds good. I’ll do the same.”
Ben orders the lamb and the waitress disappears.
“Tell me more about this friendship you two have,” Nick asks. “Excuse me for being nosy, Tuesday, but new friendships aren’t really on-brand for Ben in my experience. Is it a holiday romance?”
Ben chokes on his wine and thumps his chest with his fist to try to catch his breath.
I can’t help but laugh at his reaction. “I have a confession,” I say. “Apart from not sleeping with your very attractive friend here, I’m also not really friends with him. I keep running into him, and if I were a different type of woman, I’d say the universe is telling us we need to know each other. Something in his frown and tight jaw tells me he needs a friend like me.”
Nick smiles at me and then glances at Ben. “You know, I think you might be right.”
“She’s being ridiculous. I don’t need anything. Or anybody.”
Instinctively, I reach for his arm to comfort him and a buzz of electricity dances across my palm. “Don’t say that.” I think he feels it, too, because he pulls his arm away like I’ve slathered him in mud. He proceeds to stand, take off his jacket, then place it on the back of the chair.
If I thought he was handsome before—which, no doubt, I did—the bright white of his shirt lights up his face to a truly devastating effect. The contours of his cheekbones are so high, I’ve got altitude sickness just looking at them. His face is the kind photographers love to take pictures of and painters like to recreate on canvas—he’s a classical beauty. An image I’m much more used to seeing carved in marble or up on the big screen in a movie theater. My gaze follows his throat to his open collar and down. There is no disguising his fit, lean body under the thin white cotton.
“Did you just flex?” Nick asks Ben.
“What?” Ben asks, picking up his glass of wine. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I think you’re trying to impress our American friend.”
“I told you, she’s not my friend,” Ben says. “She’s my stalker.”
“Nope,” I say. “I’ve never followed you anywhere. And FYI, I’m staying at this hotel, and you kidnapped my cocktail. Who’s stalking whom, exactly?”
Nick grins. “If he didn’t want you to join us for dinner, believe me, you wouldn’t be here. Ben is not a man who puts up with things he doesn’t like.”
Ben starts to protest, but before he can vocalize what we all know he’s thinking, I interject. “Ben told me you were meeting to discuss business. What business are you in?” I ask.
I want to change the subject. There’s no doubt Ben is attractive, but I’m not interested in romance at the moment. I want to focus on work. It feels more solid than being a girlfriend. I was blindsided by Jed dumping me, and although the initial hurt has faded quicker than I expected, I’m not ready for anything new—not even a holiday romance.
“I’m in property development,” Nick says.
I nod and turn to Ben. “You too?”
Ben shrugs. “Among other things.”
“What are we discussing?” I ask, glancing between the two friends.
“Ben wants to buy a group of hotels, but the owner doesn’t want to sell.”
“Nick,” Ben growls. “We’re not going to talk about business in front of—”
“Oh, don’t worry about me!” I say. “My ex-fiancé was a corporate attorney. Practically all he did was discuss business. I won’t be offended at all.”
“I’m not concerned with you being offended,” Ben says, his jaw tight. “I’m concerned about confidentiality. I don’t discuss my business affairs with strangers, even if I am stalking them.” He delivers the line in such a deadpan way, I nearly miss it.
“Ha! So you admit it,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
Ben’s expressionless, despite plenty of evidence that he has a real sense of humor in there, hiding deep down inside.
“And I work in banking,” I reassure him. “I’m a professional—completely trustworthy. I’m not going to tell a soul.”