The Reality of You Read Online Free PDF

Rico for a week with Reese, a.k.a. Mr. McGriddle Pants.
    I’d finally know the
color of his eyes.

Chapter 4

 
    Kara
had been right. Out of all the candidate files she’d given him, Reese had
chosen me.
    Two weeks later, on
a Sunday afternoon, I calmly—well, I might have appeared calm—walked onto a
private charter plane. Eight empty, huge seats and no Reese. I paused in the
aisle. Anxiety rushed, bubbled, and pounded through my veins.
    That I was actually
here was mad crazy.
    As I sat in a random
front seat, the lone attendant asked if I’d like coffee or a drink. I so wanted
a drink. Every cell inside me felt as if it were about to burst in
anticipation.
    I ordered coffee.
    After tightening my
seat belt around my waist, I decided to get my mind off our impending first
meeting by scrolling over the various secretarial duties that Kara had sent me
for about the tenth time. My apparent duties, other than resort activities,
included being a receptionist, a note taker, a coffee girl, and an errand girl,
creating reports, proofreading, and whatever else he needed. It didn’t sound
too hard, yet the prospect made me nervous as hell. I went over the itinerary
Reese had sent Kara. Each day of the week was full of meetings, lunches,
dinners, and resort activities. It was a busy schedule.
    Takeoff was
supposedly in minutes. Well, the long taxi to the runway would start in
minutes. But still no Reese.
      A light, bright and shiny and beautiful, shone
into Kara’s dark well of craziness. Perhaps he would not show. Perhaps he would
cancel. Perhaps I would go to Puerto Ricoby myself.
    Though the plane
would obviously not leave without him, I imagined lying on a white-sand beach
in a bikini—no, a tankini—and maybe a cover. Maybe not a whole cover, just one
of those flowered wrap things that tie on the side, since my thighs were whiter
than a ghost. I’d buy naughty romance novels. Reading luscious smut, I’d sip
fruity drinks with bright umbrellas, ordering them from a buff waiter in a
black speedo…and a matching bow tie. The sweat dripping from my body would come
from the warm tropical sun rather than nervousness. The waiter—who,
unsurprisingly, resembled Reese—would drop off another drink, winking
seductively at me. I’d watch the tight curve of his butt over the top of my
book as he sauntered away, the sight causing me to fan myself with the novel…
    My beach vision was
destroyed by the chatter of the lone flight attendant then someone settling
into the seat across the aisle from me.
    I drew in a deep,
deep—really deep—breath and looked up. I met the most amazing pair of eyes I’d
ever seen. They were green—no, brown—maybe gray? Actually, with a brown center
around the pupil and a greenish-gray marbling the rest of the pupil, hazel was
the correct color name. And they were lovely. We stared at each for the longest
moment of my life. Okay, for about three seconds tops, but I finally knew the
color of his eyes.
    Warm, luscious
hazel.
    Those hazel orbs
slowly traveled over me, constricting with each inch they passed of my body in
a black, designer, short-skirted suit that belonged to Jules. Jules and Avery
had raided their closets and dressed me in every outfit imaginable over the
last two weeks. The goal had been sexy chic, yet classy. Whatever all that
meant. I drew the line at shoes. I never wore heels unless I wanted to fall
flat on my face. Funny, my goal had never been a face plant, so Jules had taken
me shoe shopping, like five times, and we settled on two pairs of wedges I
wouldn’t kill myself in. With his intense gaze on me, I became suddenly more
than nervous and ready to face-plant from a sitting position. I became hot,
flush, and slightly sizzling. But when his gaze came back up to mine, it
appeared cool. Very cold. Like arctic air turned into a stare.
    He put out his hand
in what seemed like a begrudgingly manner and said, “You must be Naomi Porter.”
    Like a moron, I
gawked at his large