Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
He smiles. “Let’s go then.”
“I’m nervous, Josh.”
He stops and turns to me. “Nervous,” he repeats on a frown. I nod again. “What about?” he gently asks.
“Do you think we still have anything in common?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I think it’s pretty obvious we both have hot tempers.”
I smile. “Yes.”
“And I’m hungry and tired because I didn’t sleep much last night.” He smiles.
“Me too,” I whisper.
He holds up his arm for me to take. “I think that’s a good start, don’t you?”
I nod and link my arm with his. “Let’s go.” I smile. I feel better already. His eyes twinkle as he gives me a warm smile, one that could melt the whole of Antarctica, and I instantly feel at ease. The unseen tension has immediately disappeared, and we have both noticeably relaxed. Honesty. He wants honesty. As soon as I told him I was nervous the tension disappeared. I need to remember this for future reference. We head down the stairs.
“How long have you owned the apartment?”
“Um, about six months I guess,” I answer.
“It’s a nice place.” His eyes wander around the cream room with high ceilings. The large taupe lounge wraps around in a horseshoe shape. A huge cane pendant light hangs low over the industrial coffee table and thick pile rug. “You have good taste.”
“Thanks,” I smile nervously at him.
Half an hour later, we are arriving at my favorite café, waiting to be seated by one of the waitresses. I can’t help but notice the amount of attention Joshua gets from the female population. Every woman is taking a double look at him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. I’m sure he is used to this. I, however, am finding it a little annoying. I suppose it’s not every day you see a six foot four muscled-up man whose chiseled jaw, olive skin and chocolate buzz-cut hair scream “Do Me.”
A pretty redhead shows us to our seat. “Would you like to order some drinks?” She looks from me to him and back again.
“Yes, I’ll have a tall latte, double shot.” He smiles.
“I’ll have a skim cap, please.” She scribbles on her pad and leaves us alone.
He rests his elbows on the table and links his hands together under his chin, waiting for me to speak first. His eyes have a mischievous glow to them.
“So, Josh, tell me about your life.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”
“I hear you’re wealthy.”
He smiles. “In some things.”
I tilt my head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I have money. It depends on your definition of wealthy.”
“Oh, I suppose. What’s your definition?” I ask, surprised.
He shrugs again. “Happily married, healthy kids.”
Smiling, I rest my chin on one hand while I find myself swooning at his feet. “Are you dating?” I ask.
He scrunches up his nose, “Hell no.” Our drinks arrive and the waitress’s eyes linger a little too long on Mr. Orgasmic here. I narrow my eyes at her. OK, enough, buzz off.
“You?”
I frown. “Huh?”
“Are you dating?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Mum told me you had a boyfriend.”
I nod, a little embarrassed. “Um ex-boyfriend,” I murmur.
“What happened? Why did you break up?”
I shrug.
He smiles. “I see you’re still a shit liar.”
“I hoped you hadn’t heard about that.” I wince.
“What? Heard that some poor bastard asked you to marry him and you knocked him back and then dumped his sorry ass?”
I put my hands over my face in embarrassment. “It sounds cold when you put it like that.” I peek out from my hands to see him smirking at me.
“What happened?”
“We were never going to work out. I have never been so shocked in my life as the day he proposed. It was awful.” His thumb is under his chin and he is wiping the side of his pointer across his lips as he listens while leaning back in his chair, his gaze locked on to mine.
“Why wouldn’t you have worked out?”
“We weren’t…compatible.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Compatible,” he repeats. Why did I say that? “You mean sexually?” His eyes darken with an emotion I’m familiar with. Arousal.
“Among other things,” I quickly add. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. “Why aren’t you married?” I blurt out.
He smiles a slow sexy smile. “I haven’t found anyone who fits the job description.”
“What’s the job description?” I breathe.
His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that heats my blood. “Someone who fucks like a slut, with the morals of a nun.”
I choke on my tea. Of all the things I thought he would say, that was definitely not it. I feel a familiar frisson of uneasiness creeping up on me.
“You can’t be serious?” I gasp.
“Absolutely.” He nods as he takes a sip of his latte, his eyes not leaving mine.
“You want to marry a slut?”
He nods again. “It depends what your definition of a slut is. What do you think a slut is?” he asks.