Fantasy. Lori Foster
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He looked at her, then at her hand. One glossy black eyebrow lifted, and there was amusement in his green eyes. He took her hand. “What are we shaking on?”
“I’ll go to the resort with you.”
“Ah.” His grin was wide, putting deep dimples into his lean cheeks. “It was the lulling sound of my voice that brought you around, wasn’t it? The practiced way I repeat a story? No? Then you were convinced by the way I sprawl so elegantly in a seat?”
She gave him her own grin, feeling somewhat smug. “Actually, Mr. Sinclair, I understand now that you can be trusted to stick to your word. You said I’d be the boss, and that for all intents and purposes, I own you for the next five days. I realized I couldn’t possibly pass up such an opportunity. But I won’t let you forget, I’m the one in charge.”
His dark lashes lowered until she couldn’t see his eyes, but his grin was still in place. “Believe me, honey. I won’t be able to forget.”
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