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)
Agent. That meant the VIP was an actor or musician, most likely. Or a politician, as I’d learned last year they often have agents, too. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Storm. And your client is … where?” Everything about this person had been very hush-hush for weeks—they’d refused to disclose an identity or even a medical problem, which was damned annoying.
“He should be here momentarily.” Alex Storm took a seat in front of one of the packets, his deep blue eyes settled on me as if waiting for me to sit. “Before he arrives, I’d like to discuss treatment options.”
I held up a hand to stop his flow of words. “It’s best if we wait until the actual patient arrives.”
His dark brows dipped in confusion. “But I’m his agent.”
“I understand that, but since you refused to give me any details about this client, we have no release forms indicating who we can and cannot share sensitive medical information with, and until we do, it’s best we wait for your client.”
He grumbled something under his breath and glanced at his watch. “Fine,” he growled and pulled a sleek black phone from his inside pocket. The phone rang—on speaker—five times and Alex ended the call just before the voice message kicked in.
Privacy, indeed.
Three o’clock rolled around and I was starting to feel anxious. At three-fifteen, I stood, fully prepared to reschedule this meeting for when the actual patient could be bothered to show up. But at three-sixteen, the door opened suddenly and with enough force that it smacked against the wall, and the client appeared. And he wasn’t just any client. Hell, he wasn’t just any musician.
He was Gavin Ross—rock star, sex symbol, humanitarian extraordinaire. The man who had starred in too many of my sexual fantasies over the years.
The man I’d arrogantly put on my Hall Pass list during every relationship I’d ever had.
Gavin Ross was in my conference room, aiming that killer, panty-scorching smile in my direction. For a moment, I was struck speechless by his beauty, his magnetic appeal without even saying a word. And on the heels of my girlish speechlessness came another emotion. Anger.
“Glad you could finally make it, Mr. Ross.” Wow, that was impressively bitchy. I’d never been able to pull it off before now, and I stood a little taller, feeling proud.
Surprised flashed in Gavin’s eyes before a sheepish smile appeared. He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his worn, thigh-hugging denim. The muscles of his forearms, biceps, and triceps bulged, highlighting the details of the colorful sleeve of tattoos on his right arm and the light blue guitar pick that decorated his left. Too damn sexy.
“I’m sorry about the tardiness, but it couldn’t be helped. Car trouble.”
“I’m sure you have a very good reason, Mr. Ross, but yours isn’t the only time that matters here.” I took my seat at the head of the table, leaving the seat beside his agent empty for him.
“Ryan Branson picked me up on the side of the road and gave me a lift back to the shop.” His words and the fact that he’d dropped Ryan’s name gave his story a ring of truth. And it explained why Persy was available during her lunch hour.
“All right, then. Let’s talk about why you’re here.” It was clear from their urgency and need for secrecy that there was indeed a problem, but without specifics, I couldn’t help. The prolonged silence made me squirm in my seat, and as my discomfort grew, so did my annoyance. They were the ones who called for this meeting. “What exactly has brought you to Jackson’s Ridge?”
Gavin let out an exhausted sigh that served to humanize him, make him seem normal. Approachable. One hand unconsciously slid to his throat and then Gavin sat back in defeat. “Do we really have to talk about all that right now?”
His fear and his anxiety only made him more human, dammit.
Gavin
Why in the hell did no one tell me that the woman who ran the medical center where I needed treatment was gorgeous?
I’d driven from Los Angeles to Vegas for a little last-minute fun, and then up through multiple deserts, expecting to meet an older, balding doctor, or at least a kindly older woman with a silver bun who would make me feel at ease. Someone who made me think of my grandmother, or anyone’s grandmother. But this blond bombshell had issued a personal invitation for my cock to join the meeting, which made it impossible to discuss my current health concerns.
This was a meeting for adults, not my horny dick that hadn’t been with a woman in too many months to count.
She was beautiful, with big green eyes hidden behind stylish hot-pink frames, and though she recognized me immediately, she didn’t seem all that impressed with me, which was another point in her favor