Brooklyn Flame (A Bridge & Tunnel Romance #1) Read Online Free PDF

leave Jennifer another panicked voice mail message, and rounded into the bedroom where her laptop sat on the bed. Her audio system was wirelessly connected to i-Tunes, so she pulled up a playlist without giving much consideration to the actual songs and started the first track.
    By the time she crossed back through her studio to her work-in-progress sculpture, she had drank exactly half the wine out of her glass and realized the song drifting lazily through the speakers in each corner of the room was a little steamy all things considered, but just as she was about to double back and pick out a more sensible song list, the buzzer blared, announcing that her model had finally arrived.
    Though she startled at the sound, she wasted no time getting to the intercom box, pressing the Talk button, and asking, “Are you the model?”
    The second she pushed the Listen button, a guy’s voice came through competing with the static of the intercom.
    “Yeah, can I-”
    Killing the call, she pressed the Door button, allowing him in, and pulled the door open then waited impatiently to hear him padding up the stairs. So eager was Greer to get started on the hour with her model that would cost her hundreds, she didn’t think twice about the white wine in her hand or her unusual choice of dress, which barely indicated she had changed out of her bed clothes this morning - a thin, white tank, no bra, a lacy gray cardigan draping open in front, and black yoga pants with thick woolen socks.
    When she saw a dark skullcap and cool green eyes, her lips parted in shocked recognition for who was approaching her door. She heaved the door open as he neared, cocked her head - a reflex she couldn’t help - her furrowing brow, however was within her control so she smoothed it out, as well as her shocked expression, and said, “Ah hey. You’re my model?”
    “I’m not late am I?” He said with a clever smile, insinuating he knew exactly how late he was.              
    “You’re a model?”
    “Is that okay?” He asked, shifting his weight where he stood outside her door.
    Confusion wasn’t productive, so she widened the door for him to pass through and tried not to check him out from behind, as he stalked slowly into her studio, glancing around and taking in the unusual surroundings.
    She closed then locked the door and as she started for her sculpture, he pivoted facing her. His gaze touched the white wine in her hand, and when he raised his eyes, she caught him lingering on her chest where her nipples were hard under her thin cotton tee. As she discretely wrapped her cardigan, covering herself in such a way she hoped he wouldn’t peg as her response to him staring - she was trying desperately to keep this cool and not awkward - he cocked his head, taking in the song that was lightly playing.
    “This is kind of a 2:00 am tune, isn’t it?”             
    “I wouldn't know. I work around the clock,” she said dryly, as she rushed to her clay and found something interesting about it to avoid meeting his gaze.
    “So this is going to look like me,” he said, nearing the sculpture.
    “I just need a little help in terms of the proportions.”
    “Right.”             
    When she looked at him, she caught his eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of her sculpture’s genitals.
    “You know this is nude modeling, right?”
    “Yeah, I know the deal.” Eyeing her work more carefully, he added, “You might have to scrap most of this. I’m pretty buff.”
    She cracked a smirk, cocking her brow, as she sarcastically suggested, “I’ll handle the art. You just take your clothes off and get settled on the couch.”
    His laugh came deep and breathy, as he said, “Yes, Ma’am,” and paced away towards the stool she’d set off to the wayside from the couch.
    He was confident, she observed. He didn’t blush from the idea of being naked around her, and as he made slow work of peeling off his jacket and