Christian Parkinson's playboy lifestyle has taken an interesting turn when he met the sharp and witty Kylie Preston. She has something in her that other women lack - the guts to call him on his bullshit.
She's not the type he dates but Christian fin...
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Kylie
"Thank you for lunch." I slid my bag to my shoulder and stood up from my chair. "I really need to go."
"You'll be fine. I'll text Audrey we got stuck in traffic." He takes out his phone and started typing.
I stared briefly, searching for that one slip of Christian's cocky smile. He'd recover from the slip so perfectly well. I shake my head. "No. I have the rest of the day off."
Christian looks up from his phone. "It's your day off?"
Genuine pleasure tendered his voice.
"Yes. But I have to be somewhere right now."
He steps in front of me. "Okay. Where to?"
"None of your business."
"Caring to ask does make it my business," he says with a grin.
"I don't like making my problems other people's too." I tried to walk around him, but he sidestepped, blocking my way.
He looks down to me. "So, we're having a problem. I can help."
I pressed my hands on his chest, pushing him but just ending up sliding myself backward. I push a little harder, my heels useless without friction. Christian clasped both hands around my wrists and tugged me closer effortlessly.
"You push, I pull," he says, eyes bluer with mischief.
I suck in a breath.
His gaze rested on mine, then grazed down, flitting to my hair. "I like your bow."
"Thanks," I gulp, "it's my mom's."
He smiled softly. "I see where you got your beautiful tastes."
I wriggle a wrist out of his hold. "Thank you." I smiled back. "I really need to go though."
"Fine." He sighed. "Is it really important?"
"Yep." I sidestepped, glad this time I was quick enough to not have him block my way. He's just a step behind though. I turn to the parking lot, heading to my car. I only agreed to have lunch if we drive our respective cars.
"Don't tell me you want to carpool." I look over my shoulder when I sensed him still hovering behind me.
His eyes made a brief fled to the backseat. To the pile of the rescued clothes from my apartment's debacle this morning. "What's going on back there?"
"It's whatever you think is happening." I opened the door of the driver's seat.
"That you're running away?"
My nose scrunched up. "I honestly thought you would think I'm donating to Goodwill."
"I would have. Except they're still hanging from their hangers." He clasped a hand on the car door. "What's really going on, Kylie? You're not running away from murder, are you?"
