Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“I was once forced to sit through an hour-and-a-half discussion about yacht repair,” Brock said.
“Exactly. It can definitely be dry. If I have to listen to one more person talk about golf, I might strain my eyes from trying not to roll them.”
“Why is it always golf?” Brock asked, shaking his head. “They could do any other sport, but they choose golf?”
“I think it is sport-lite and business-heavy,” I said. “I remember someone advising me when I was really starting to get some success that I should invest in a membership at a very exclusive club just to rub shoulders with the ultra-rich. As much as I was desperate for connections those days, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“Probably for the best. It’s still such a boys-only type atmosphere. You’d have been constantly hit on.”
“That was part of my thinking as well,” I agreed.
“What time is the benefit?” he asked.
“Eight.”
“But you don’t want to get there at eight.”
“No, I do not,” I agreed. “Eight twenty to be there. So leave here at ten after.”
“I’ll be ready,” he told me.
I guess I just hadn’t been prepared for how ready he would be.
I figured he had a suit. Any man who made it to his thirties had better have a suit.
But this wasn’t just any suit.
This was the to-the-book black-tie-affair suit.
A single-breasted black dinner jacket made out of barathea with silk peaked lapels and covered buttons. Under that was a white marcella evening shirt with bib detail and double cuffs and pricey-looking cufflinks. The pants had a nice taper, neither too tight nor too loose, and his black shoes looked shiny and in good shape.
The bowtie was where most men screwed up.
It was always too small or too wide, making their heads look disproportionate.
But Brock nailed the bowtie as well.
In fact, he actually looked good in it. Which was not an easy feat.
“Wow,” Brock said when he sensed me standing there, and turned to look.
It was a good wow too. The breathless sort. Like I’d taken his away.
I won’t lie. Brock had absolutely been on my mind as I scanned through Cam’s options, as I wondered what would be most flattering to my figure, be appropriate, but still sexy.
I’d settled on a floor-length—obviously—gown in a green so deep it was almost black. It was off the shoulder with a deep slit between the breasts that gave the appearance of cleavage, but had a modesty panel blocking you from actually seeing anything. It was high-waisted, tight through the hip, then flared out into a mermaid hem from the knee.
“You stole my line,” I said, giving him a soft smile.
“You don’t do that enough with your hair,” he told me, taking a single step forward. Almost like he didn’t trust himself to get any closer than that.
I almost never had my hair down, in fact. Having it up meant it was a little more fuss-free when I was working long days at the office.
Then when I got home, I couldn’t take it down because it had that thick crease from being back all day, so I tended to just continue to keep it up.
Sure, an updo would have been perfectly appropriate for the benefit as well, but I’d carefully washed, dried, and styled my hair instead, wanting a soft and feminine look for the evening.
I never went crazy on makeup, but I did some mascara and light liner around my eyes as well as a slight tint to my lips. And maybe a swipe of blush just to warm up my cheekbones.
I opted out of a necklace, but went with simple drop earrings with two-carat teardrop emeralds.
Understated and classic was what I was going for.
There were no rings or bracelets either.
Just a spritz or two of my signature perfume.
That was it.
“I have a problem,” I told him.
“That no one is going to be able to look at the presenter with you in the room?” he asked, giving me another quick once over that had my belly flip-flopping.
“Well, yes, there is that,” I said, smiling. “But, actually… this is not a bend forward sort of dress,” I said, pressing a hand between my breasts where my boobs were just barely staying contained in their strapless bra. It was a big ask for them to stay put, and they were behaving so far. I didn’t want to push it. “But I didn’t put on my shoes beforehand,” I told him, waving over toward the box.
I didn’t technically need new shoes for the event, especially seeing as no one was going to see them. But Cam, well, we shared that footwear fetish. He told me that he’d seen them and knew instantly that I had to have them.
I hadn’t even looked at them yet.
“Well, if this isn’t just a real-life Cinderella moment,” Brock said with a boyish smirk before he turned to fish the shoes out of the box, pulling out the velvet wedge put inside to keep the shape, then coming over toward me with them.