Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“And if I do leave you lovelorn?”
I wouldn’t let that happen. “It’s still my business and mine alone, thank you very much.”
His smile brightened and his eyes lit with surprise. “Agreed. But what about me? What if you leave me lovelorn?”
I laughed. “Unlikely, but thanks for that.”
He shrugged and took a step closer. “You never know, Suzie. You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.”
Before I could form a protest on my lips, Gavin’s lips were there, sliding against mine while his big, capable musician’s hands slid down my back and gripped my ass to keep me close. The kiss went on and on until I was breathless and panting.
And smiling. “Gavin,” I sighed.
He smiled in return and took a step back, bumping into the door in a rare show of uncertainty. “See you soon, Suzie Q.”
“Wow.” Persy’s husky voice interrupted my thoughts and I blinked to find her standing on the other side of my desk, arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. “That was some world-class daydreaming going on just now. I wonder if it has anything to do with Gavin Ross dropping you at home this morning?”
Damn. I was hoping that my early morning escort had gone unnoticed, but I should have known word would get out—most of my neighbors were over sixty years old, up at the butt-crack of dawn to water their lawns or keep an eye on things.
“No, it has nothing to do with that. Not how you mean,” I lied to my closest friend with a straight face. “I was trying to run off a platter of nachos and sprained my ankle just outside his cliffside mansion. After a brief trespassing accusation, Gavin was nice enough to help me out.”
“All night?” Persy’s raven eyebrows rose in suspicion. “Was it a twisted ankle or an amputation?”
“Funny.”
“Not a joke, a sincere question.” She closed the door and walked around the desk to take a look at my ankle. “It’s a little swollen and bruised, but not too bad.”
“Gavin had ice packs. And lasagna. And wine,” I admitted for some crazy reason. “Nothing to gossip about.”
Persy looked up with a smile playing on her red lips. “Dinner and an overnight stay with a rock star and there’s nothing to gossip about? Nothing at all?” She stood and leaned on my desk right beside me. “I’m calling bullshit, Suzie. Spill the beans and do it fast, or I’ll march over to Ryan’s place and get him to ask Gavin.”
My eyes rounded in shock. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely will. I love Ryan, but I would also love nothing more than to live vicariously through your love affair with Gavin.”
“Love affair?” I scoffed at that. “He is world famous and crazy rich, what would he want with a small-town hospital administrator?”
“First of all, you live in a small town, but JRMC serves the whole damn county, so don’t downplay your accomplishments. Second, Gavin seems like a man with good taste, and I’ll bet you’re a freak down deep.”
“A freak?” I felt heat spread across my cheeks and put my hands to cover it. “Me?”
“Oh, yeah. Those glasses are a classic misdirect. And that blush? You can’t talk about it, but I’ll bet you get down when you have a man at your naked mercy.”
“Maybe, but that man is not Gavin Ross.”
Her violet eyes stared at me for so long I had to press my heels into the floor to avoid squirming. “I don’t believe you. I’ll get the truth out of you sooner or later.”
She probably would, but if given the choice, I picked later. “Did you come up just for gossip or is there something I can help you with?”
I realized my mistake a moment too late. My annoyed, super-professional tone was a dead giveaway that I was hiding something.
“Not just gossip. Drew. I can’t find him, and I have a consult for a fourteen-year-old football player.”
Oh good, something else to focus on other than my night with Gavin. “I’ll find him and send him your way,” I told Persy, turning to my computer in hopes that she would get the hint.
Finding my brother gave me something to focus on other than my foolish infatuation with a rock star who made my toes curl, but who also made me smile. It was impossible not to want to see him, to do him, again and again. I knew I was being silly and reckless, and I knew I would fall for him before he picked up stakes and ran back to Hollywood.
If I was going to do this—and there was no way I wasn’t going to do this, do him—then I had to be okay with being nothing more than something to do to avoid boredom. I had to resign myself to being a rich rock star’s small-town distraction. Was I okay with it?