(Charity Case #3)
by Piper Rayne
Date Released: July 12, 2018
About Happy Hour
The perfect man for her is the one she hates most.
Dating is hard.
Dating in your thirties is even harder.
Dating in Chicago is harder still.
I haven't given up on finding my happily-ever-after, but in the age of swiping right and Netflix and chill, I'm wondering if everything is as temporary as my marriage turned out to be.
Truth is, there is one guy I can't get my mind off of.
Roarke Baldwin has salt and pepper hair I've dreamed of running my hands through and I'm pretty sure that if I checked he really does have a six pack of abs underneath his suit. And I've always wondered what that stubble on his face would feel like between my thighs.
The problem? He's the one man I hate more than my ex-husband…
His divorce attorney.
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An Excerpt from Happy HourI press the numbers on my phone with shaky fingers, bringing the receiver up to my ear and release a deep breath.
He picks up after one ring. “I thought we were friends? Having your assistant call my assistant. Tsk, tsk, Ms. Crowley.”
Aggravation fuses together every cell in my body until I become an impenetrable wall.
“First, we are not friends. Second, I would prefer to talk to you via our office phones.”
There’s a brief second of silence where he’s probably realizing I called him through my office line.
“Ahh… so now you have my number and I don’t have yours? That seems terribly unfair.”
“I didn’t realize you cared about fairness?” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs.
“You don’t know that much about me. It’s not like you know me intimately.” He lowers his voice on the last word and drags it out.
I roll my eyes, happy we’re not face-to-face so he can’t see the flush in my cheeks.
“You may have witnessed how I own the courtroom, but you know nothing about my private life. For instance, you don’t know if I like thrillers or comedies. Whether I prefer sorbet to ice cream or if I wear boxers or briefs.”
“I don’t need to know those things,” I say with frustration, shutting my eyes to rid the vision from my head of him in tight black boxer briefs—since that’s my preference.
“You want to know though.” A sexual innuendo pours out of his mouth and hits its mark between my thighs.
“There you go making assumptions about my wants.” I pick up my pen, shuffling through paperwork. Anything to distract me from this ache.
“I not only know what you want, I know what you need, Ms. Crowley.”
I smack my hand down on my desk. “Okay Rico Suave, let’s talk about this venue you have access to and keep the discussion of undergarments for another time.”
A beeping sound interrupts us.
“Hold all my calls please, Kristen.” Then nothing for a moment. “Sorry about that but you know how busy I am.”
“Yes, I’m sure destroying people’s lives takes a lot of time. So let’s stop the sexual innuendos and get down to business.”
“Let’s meet tonight. You frequent Torrio’s. I frequent Torrio’s. Let’s do something crazy and have a drink together.”
“I don’t need a drink at Torrio’s, Mr. Baldwin. I need a venue to house my gala. Now tell me your terms and I want the details of this venue you insist you can secure. I refuse to meet you until you supply me with that information.” I uncross my legs and tap my foot on the floor under me.
“So demanding. I like it.” I can hear him shuffling papers in the background. “I’ll have my assistant message your assistant with all the details of the venue. I’m sure it will be of your liking. Then we’ll meet tonight at Torrio’s. Seven sharp. Consider it our own personal happy hour.”
“I’m not committing to anything until I see the venue.”
“Then I’ll see you at seven.” The phone clicks and I stare at the receiver in my hand.
“Prick,” I murmur.
A knock sounds on my door.
About Piper Rayne
A little about us... We both have Kindles full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.
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