Page 32 of Stone Rules

Me: I’m in your reception area. Can’t get past the Gestapo. I was hoping you’d have a sec to give me the info you have.

I slip my phone back into my purse, hoping like hell he does in fact answer personal texts at work. The last thing I want to do today is give Barbie the satisfaction of watching me walk out of here with my tail between my legs.

A few long minutes pass without a reply.What do you expect, Charlie—for him to drop everything and come running when you beckon?

I busy myself looking at Ethan’s family photos. Now that I know more about him, they’ve become more interesting. Like I am to my mom—he’s a carbon copy of his dad. And if the photos are any indication, Ethan will be one hell of a looker as he ages.

I focus my attention on a picture of him with his brothers. Kyle looks to be about four or five years younger than Ethan with Chad falling somewhere in the middle. Now that I think of it, I’m not even sure how old Ethan is. Younger than most of the men I’ve been with for sure, but probably not over thirty.

Chad still looks familiar. I can’t place him, but I know I’ve seen him before. I don’t suppose he works for Ethan; I probably would have met him by now if that were the case.

The three of them together look like the Holy Grail of hotness. The genes it must have taken to create such a trifecta of perfection. It gets me thinking about what the children of Piper and Mason would look like. They have to be the best-looking couple I’ve ever seen.

I hear a door open behind me. I turn around to see Ethan and another man walking from the back offices into the reception area. He shakes the man’s hand and looks back and forth between me and Gretchen, who is now seething in her skin-tight push-up-bra dress. Based on her reaction, I get the feeling Ethan doesn’t often accompany clients out here, but that this is a direct result of my text. I mean, if looks could kill, I’d be flat-lining right here on the floor of this office.

“Everything okay out here?” he asks.

I feel my blood pressure spike when I hear his deep gravelly voice.

“Fine, Ethan,” Gretchen says. “I was just telling um” —she looks at me snidely— “your name seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Tate,” I say to her, but I’m looking directly at Ethan.

He smiles that half-smile of his that could melt the panties off an Eskimo.

Gretchen’s eyes dart between us and she puckers her full, fire-engine-red lips like she’s eaten something bitter. Yeah, I’m pretty sure she good and well knows my name. I’m also pretty sure she hates that he is looking at me like this.

“I was just tellingTatehow you were running behind,” Gretchen says, motioning to the man on the couch. “I doubted we could fit her in just now.”

He gives her an annoyed look. “You could’ve buzzed me, Gretchen.”

He walks over to the man on the couch and addresses him. “Brad, a bit of an urgent matter has come up. Would you mind terribly giving me five minutes? Gretchen will be happy to fetch you some coffee or whatever else you need.”

“Of course,” Brad says, his eyes bouncing between Gretchen and me in amusement.

Gretchen’s pout gives me more satisfaction than I’d like to admit, and I bask in silent victory as Ethan escorts me to the back.

“What’s up with you and Gretchen?” I ask on the way to his office.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “We had a thing once. No big deal.”

My good mood falters.A thing?What does that mean? A relationship? Were they fuck-buddies? Did they date in high school? I want to ask, but suddenly I’m not sure I want the answer. Maybe he just doesn’t do relationships withme.

When I enter his office, I can’t help but stare at his desk, remembering what it felt like when my naked behind was being pressed into it.

“Don’t even think about it, Charlie. We’ve got two minutes.”

“Yeah, well that and you don’t do relationships.”

I regret the words the second they leave my mouth. They make me sound like a bitter, desperate woman.

I could swear I see a hint of disappointment cross his face before he says, “You couldn’t wait until tonight, huh?”

For a second, I forget why I’m here and his question confuses me as I think of him and the pool at the gym.

“Uh, well it’s my day off and I had nothing better to do.”

“Fair enough.” He rounds the desk and pulls a folder from a drawer, handing it to me. “Anthony Pellman’s information is in here. Turns out, his residence is just around the corner from where you work. He’s probably eaten at Mitchell’s before, maybe even with his wife of three years.”

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