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“Why?”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Love, it’s an Olive Line listing. Stop overthinking this and say ‘thank you Tim, I love you dearly’.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, Tim. I love you dearly if we get the listing.”
“If you get the listing,” he corrected me. “Which you will. Just flash that beautiful smile and don’t piss off the wife. Piece of cake.”
“Will you get me the introduction from Fred?” I kept my voice low as he herded us inside, his thin arm still tight around my shoulders. He smelled like peaches and ocean, an odd but delicious combination.
“Fred already gave them your number. He said they’ll call you this week.”
I stopped just inside the door, the voices of the crowd magnified by the vaulted ceiling and concrete floor. “How did you know I’d say yes?”
“Because you’re like me,” he said, not unkindly. “Frantic and desperate.”
6
“Frantic and desperate.” I tore a piece of paper towel off the roll and laid it out on the counter. “That’s what he called me. And he said it nicely, as if he wasn’t insulting me to my face.”
“Truthfully, we are a little desperate.” Easton crouched beside the fridge, pulling Coke cans out of the case and adding them to the door. “And I don’t know if frantic is the right word, but it’s not too far off.”
“When’s your next call with Nicole?” I pulled a stack of graham crackers out of the box and broke each one in half, laying the squares out on the paper towel.
“Monday. And it’s getting to the point where I need to be a dick.”
“I don’t get it. She’s got the money, right? This isn’t a case of her being broke and not wanting to tell you?”
“Her agent confirmed that they closed the Nike endorsement deal. That was seventy million, with fifteen at signing. Even if she was destitute before, she’d have that.”
“Good point.” I stuffed a marshmallow in my mouth, then put another on top of the graham cracker.
“What do you know about the Olive Line sellers?”
I chewed for a minute, getting enough of it down to speak clearly. “He’s an attorney who handled Fred’s divorce a few years ago. He married another attorney, so they’re probably going to be complete bitches over the listing contract.”
He straightened and shut the fridge door, the empty Coke case in hand. Moving to the trash, he started to stuff it in.
“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “Break it down and put it in the blue can.”
He dropped it on the floor and stepped on it, letting out a sigh of irritation. “Okay, so they’re attorneys. And Tim said he likes women?”
“Yeah. Will you grab the chocolate?” I bit into another marshmallow, chewing through the gooey texture as I watched him open the pantry doors and stare at the contents. “Somewhere near the top.”
“Got ’em.” He reached up, then tossed the package to me without turning. The two Hershey’s bars arched in perfect synchronization through the air and toward me.
Cupping my hands against my chest, I caught them easily. “Nice throw.”
He shrugged and shut the cabinet doors. “So… some rich attorney. Should I be worried?”
“A married rich attorney,” I pointed out. Ripping open the first Hershey package with my teeth, I eyed him curiously. “But no, you shouldn’t be. Are you ever?”
“Not about you.” He settled against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “But a man doesn’t marry a woman like you without being aware of the situation.”
“What situation?” I bent off a piece of the chocolate and watched as he crossed the kitchen toward me.
“The situation where every man who meets you wants to fuck you.”
I tried hard not to smile, but I warmed to the compliment like a panhandler to rush-hour traffic. “You know that’s not true.”
He stopped before me and pulled at the white tie of my drawstring pajama bottoms, then hooked his fingers in the sides of them. “It is. Every single man.”
He crouched, dragging the pants down, my panties coming along for the ride as he slid them to my ankles.
“E…” I resisted his attempts to spread my feet.
“I need this.” He tilted his face up, his eyes meeting mine in the brief moment before his mouth settled between my legs, his chin working them open, his light beard tickling my thighs. “Sit on the counter.”
The chocolate hit the floor somewhere near his feet as he gripped my waist and lifted, setting me on the cool granite. I parted my knees, my ankles held together by my pants. I was relatively smooth from my preparation for Aaron, still bare to his eyes, and he let out a low groan of appreciation. “I love you like this.” He pushed his fingers inside me and I gripped the edge of the counter tightly, letting out a soft moan as the tips of his fingers gently teased over my G-spot. “I want you to prepare for me like you prepared for him.”
