intimate than my full name, makes me giddy inside.
Until the client’s name he spoke to his receptionist finally makes its way through the lust induced haze Roarke initiates.
Mr. Quinton?
It couldn’t be him, right? No way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I scan through my contacts and press the green button when I see her name immediately. It rings and rings, but I get her voicemail, “You’ve reached Scarlet. I’m probably at Saks with hubby’s credit card. Leave a message and I’ll ring you right after I grab Starbucks.” A long beep sounds.
“Scar, it’s Han. Just checking in. It’s been so long. Give me a call and we’ll do lunch.”
I click the red button to end the call and swivel my chair to stare out the window. I rotate my phone in my hand, hitting my thigh with each turn, I flip it. It has to be a coincidence, but with that asshole being friends with Todd, I can see the referral happening over scotch at the club. Todd’s annoying voice in my head, ‘Roarke Baldwin got me everything I didn’t deserve. Hannah can spare it, she’s still sitting on millions.’
Since Scarlett doesn’t call back, I decide to conduct a social media stalking. Surely, if they’re divorcing, Facebook or Instagram will reflect that. Going on my own Instagram account, I’m reminded that I suck at social media. The last picture I posted was the day I got Lucy and some lame comments from my friends are there saying they miss me. If they miss me so much why don’t they pick up a phone and call me?
I click on Scarlett’s profile and a million pictures of her, David, and the kids are the first thing I see. They’re on a beach somewhere and she’s all smiles. There’s another with David’s arm swung over her shoulders with a caption explaining that it was date night. They’ve all been taken within the last month.
I’m drawing the wrong conclusions. I mean we’re in a city of millions, surely there’s another Quinton around who could afford Roarke’s services.
My phone buzzes with a text and I hope it’s from Scarlett, but it’s Roarke.
Roarke: Here’s a caterer, I’ve used him and he’s good. Maybe try him out.
Listed is a name and phone number, nothing else. No company name or address to visit.
Since I’m already on my computer, I type in Google and find nothing. What am I missing here?
Roarke: Counting the hours until six. By the way, you and Lucy are spending the weekend at my place.
Me: You don’t dictate what I do.
Roarke: My bad…will you and your overzealous dog spend the weekend with me and Nickel?
Me: You forgot the magic word.
Roarke: Orgasm?
I giggle and Victoria smiles into my office as she passes by.
Me: Wrong word.
Roarke: Cunnilingus?
Me: Wrong again. I’m inspecting my nails now.
Roarke: Please will my Firecracker agree to spend the weekend at my house, so I can fuck you until your throat is hoarse from screaming and your body is limp. Better?
Me: Well, thank you for the please. I could have done without the other stuff.
Roarke: I don’t believe you. Want me to continue? Shut your office door.
Me: I have to call this mysterious caterer who has no reviews.
Roarke: If I was there I’d have you bent over your desk and my hand would be slapping your ass while I drove into you.
Me: Well you’re not.
Roarke: I have two minutes before my meeting. I can get you off if you just hike up that skirt.
Me: How do you know I’m wearing a skirt?
I had left his place early this morning and changed at my house.
Roarke: I always visualize you with a dress or skirt on. Easy access in my fantasies. ;)
Me: You are something, all right.
Roarke: I’m all yours. So no quickie orgasm? My client is starting to give me the stink eye.
Me: You have a client with you right now!?
Roarke: I told you, we’re waiting for the meeting to start.
Me: And you were going to talk dirty to me?
Roarke: I think I’ve proven that I’m a multi-tasker.
Me: Bye, Roarke. See you tonight.
Roarke: I’ll be thinking about how wet you are. See you at six. Give the guy a call, he’s good. Promise.
I have a feeling that man will forever keep me surprised.
Trusting Roarke has been easy in the few short weeks we’ve been together and I know he’d never give me a reference he wasn’t more than one hundred percent sure would deliver, so I pick up my cell phone and dial the number he sent me.
At six on