24 1/2 Kisses (A Bashir Family Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

going to say? Yes, that’s the number of kisses he would give me up my thigh before…
    I shrugged my shoulders for effect. “Nope. What an odd request.”
    I tried to laugh, like I was amused by it, but it sounded a little too forced and they just stared at me like I was a giggling idiot.
    A knock on the door saved me. Molly stuck her head in and found me.
    “I have a message for you, Scarlett. Bashir’s people called. He’ll be available for you tonight. Franklin Bank is having some shin-dig to celebrate the latest merger.” She handed me a piece of paper. “There’s the time and address. Good luck.”
    I would need more than luck. I needed a bodyguard. Or an on-call therapist.
    Or better yet, a nice looking photographer with blue eyes.
    “Can I take Eric?”
    Bill scanned through the document.
    “I don’t see a problem with it.”
    Linda chimed in. “Good luck getting him into a suit.”
    He can wear swim trunks for all I care if I don’t have to face Dev alone.

Chapter 4
    I met Eric outside the entrance to Franklin Tower. He strode up to me wearing what I guessed was his only suit, a bulky camera bag hanging over his shoulder and his usual easy smile. He whistled when he saw me.
    “Wow—I mean—just, wow .”
    I blushed. I had chosen a black cocktail dress with a dangerously low open back. With matching three-inch stilettos and my blonde hair a stick straight sheath past my shoulders, I knew I wouldn’t look like a slouch tonight—even if I wanted to throw up from the nervous churning in my stomach.
    “You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I said, taking a deep, unsteady breath.
    On our way up to the top floor in the elevator, Eric must have noticed my nerves.
    “You’ll be fine, Scarlett. I’m here if you need me.”
    I offered him a small smile and felt a little better. I suddenly felt like a genius asking him to come with me.
    The elevator stopped with a tiny jolt at the 60 th floor, and I made myself loosen my white-knuckle clutch on my purse.
    “Thanks, Eric. I do need you—I mean, I might need you.”
    He smiled me and offered his arm as we walked into the impressive suite.
    “Hey, this place isn’t half bad,” he joked.
    I took in the colossal ballroom with fifty foot high cathedral ceiling, adorned with crystal chandeliers, and surrounded by a wall of spotless windows framing a view of New York befitting a five dollar postcard from a tourist shop.
    The room was filled with well-groomed and important-looking people.
    Beautiful.
    Wealthy.
    Pedigreed.
    As if I wasn’t already nervous enough, he had to bring me here to meet him. There was a purpose behind it knowing Dev.
    What’s your game, Dev ? I wondered as a waiter offered me a glass of champagne, which I declined with a small shake of my head and a tight smile.
    Eric casually removed his camera from his bag. “I’m going to get some shots. See you in a bit.”
    I resisted the impulse to cling to his arm and beg him to stay next to my side.
    “Sure. Of course. See you.”
    As soon as he left, he was replaced by a middle aged man in a dark suit, nursing a glass of brandy.
    “Do you mind if I introduce myself? John O’Leary.” He put out his hand and I shook it while trying to steal discreet glances down my dress.
    I knew this game. I tried not to roll my eyes.
    “Scarlett Sommerfield. I’m a reporter for Time Magazine .”
    He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
    “A journalist, huh? If I had to guess, I would have said you’re a model ,” he said, expecting me to gush in reply to his compliment.
    I put on my “pretend-to-be-interested” expression and tuned out as he droned on about investment banking and how he usually hated these functions while stealing peeks at my breasts. A few moments later something else in the room caught my attention.
    He was here.
    Before I saw him, I could already feel his energy enter the suite. Like a moth drawn to the flame, so were my eyes as they found him on the other side of the cavernous