Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“I’ll email the recipe. Check your phone in a li’l bit and call me tomorrow.”
“Busy tomorrow. Call in a few days. Tell Pop I said hi. Gotta go. Love you.”
I disconnect before she finds another way to hold me longer. I open the door to find Sofie on the stoop, looking up at the house number, a small frown etched between her dark blond brows. She looks back to me, confusion evident on her face.
“This is Brooklyn.”
“You know, I’m from out of town,” I say, allowing myself a grin, “but I believe you’re right.”
She holds my stare, making no move to come inside. It gives me a chance to study her right back. She’s scooped her hair into an artfully messy knot behind one ear. Her face is lightly made up, not too heavy, which I like. The flawless texture of her skin isn’t suffocated by a bunch of stuff. The purity of her features is truly remarkable, but I know Henri is wrong to think I’m one of those guys who’s most interested in Sofie’s beautiful casing. This outward shrouding, as beautiful as it is, is easy for her to share. She shares it for a living. It’s all the stuff she wants to hide, wants to keep to herself, that intrigues me.
“I thought you said we were going out.” She steps into the house, walking past me to inspect the foyer and large front room.
I step onto the stoop and wave the car on. I’ll call him back later for the ride home.
“I didn’t say we were going out.” I close the door and lean against it. “I said we’d have dinner. See the difference?”
“I do now.” Sofie glances around the Brooklyn Heights brownstone foyer, looking beyond it to the warm comfort of the living room with its dark leather tones and Persian rugs. “Nice place you got here.”
“My sister’s actually. She and her husband and the kids are in Berlin for his job.” I shrug. “Worked out perfectly. He’s there for two years, and I stay here when I’m in New York.”
“This big place all to yourself?”
“Actually, Harold and Henri, our assistant, stay here, too. We work out of my brother-in-law’s office.”
“Cozy.” She gives the room another glance before looking back to me, waiting for my next move.
“Well, come in.”
She walks ahead of me, smelling incredible and looking even better. A dress, the color of chocolate mousse, hugs the dips and curves of her long body. It’s short, mid-thigh, leaving the length of her legs bare. It plunges so low in the back that she’s naked from her shoulders to the curve of her waist, an expanse of creamy skin begging to be touched. It’s a dress made of silk and drama and sex, woven together to draw and hold a man’s attention.
I’m only a man.
And this particular dress…I remember it from her office the night of Bennett’s rooftop party.
“So I dressed up for nothing?” She glances at me over her shoulder.
I take her wrist, pulling her around to face me again. Our eyes catch and hold, and I realize the molecular structure of our relationship has changed after our argument this morning. The air still sizzles between us, but there is something softer, more vulnerable, uncertain, behind Sofie’s eyes. And she can’t hide it from me anymore. I’d like to think she doesn’t want to, but I know better.
“Not for nothing. You dressed up for me.” My eyes glide down nearly six feet of perfection and back up to meet her eyes. “Isn’t this the dress I liked?”
She drops her lashes, pressing her lips together against a smile.
“It was already at the office, so…”
“Hmmmm. Convenience. I get it.” I gently pull her by the wrist toward the dining room. “Well, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She stops when she sees the table, set with our dinner, fresh flowers, and candles. “This is…wow.”
Her eyes climb the few inches separating us before looking back to the table. Walking farther into the dining room, I pull her seat out and then take the one across from her.
“I would have come to get you, but the day got away from me and I needed to cook dinner, so I sent a car.”
“No problem. My day was chaos, too.”
“Your timing was perfect.” I gesture for her to eat. “The steaks are fresh off the grill.”
She’s just staring at the food, and something occurs to me. Dammit, Sofie’s a model. She may not even eat meat. She may barely eat anything to stay in that kind of shape, as far as I know.
“Do you not eat meat?” I’m halfway out of my seat. “I bet there’s something in the freezer I could—”
“I eat meat.” She picks up her fork and knife, slicing into the tender steak with relish. “I eat it all, and I’m starving. I was just surprised. You made this?”