“How’s your boy toy?” Kevin, asked.
“History,” Caroline replied.
Sydney whipped her head toward her sister. “Whaaa? What happened?”
“Not the right fit,” she replied, and her friends started laughing.
“Too big or too small?” one of them asked.
Caroline laughed. “I took a chance, but I’m back to being a look-no-touch kinda girl.”
“Booooo,” Kevin said. “You can’t stop just because the first one doesn’t work out. Be bold, woman. Live life on the edge.”
If her friends knew what shereallydid for a living, they wouldnotbe instructing her to live life on the edge. She wasn’t sure how much more “on the edge” she needed to be.
Just then, Tank returned with a man in tow.
Ohmygod, ohmygod… it’s him.
It was Grey Stone, in the flesh. Not in a work meeting across a conference room table. Not on a video chat, thousands of miles away. And definitely not on the other end of a call while he was running for his life, and she was expected to bail him out.
“Ohmygod,” she murmured.
Her mind blanked. All she could do was stare at the granite block of male perfection.
“Excuse me,” Tank called out, his booming voice quieting the room in seconds.
“Whoa.” Sydney grabbed Caroline’s thigh and squeezed. “There are two of them,” she whispered.
“Shut up,” Caroline bit out.
“This is our GM, Greystone. He’s going to be taking over?—”
“Are you leaving?” Sydney blurted.
“I gotta take off, but you’re in good hands with Greystone.”
Caroline had stopped breathing. She was frozen on the spot, her mouth stuffed with food, her ability to chew halted. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but gawk and gawk and gawk, soaking up all the stunning male hotness. It had been months since she’d seen him. His hair had grown longer, the blond highlights playing off his beautiful olive skin, and sculpted face. His bearded, chiseled jawline and cheekbones were to die for, but it was the intensity in his deep-blue eyes that had immobilized her. He was even bigger than she remembered. Broader, with shoulders that went on and on, with guns for arms that pressed against his black suit jacket. Definitely not the jeans and T-shirts she’d usually see him in. These duds were designer all the way. He looked so good she wanted to jump in his arms and ride him ‘til sunrise.
Both men were wearing black shirts, a black jacket with a pocket square, and black pants. Smoking-hot didn’t do Grey justice. He was an Adonis, standing there at six-three looking all relaxed and sexier than any human should.
Little yellow stars floated into her peripheral, and she realized she was about to pass out. Determined to remain vertical, she sucked in a slow, lung-filling breath.
“Hey,” Grey said to the group, his baritone voice rumbling through her chest.
So sexy.
“Greystone, this is Sydney,” Tank said. “She’s the organizer.”
Why is Tank calling him by his full name?
Grey tossed her sister a nod.
“And the birthday girl sitting next to her is?—”
Grey shifted his attention to her and surprise flashed in his eyes. “Austin,” he said, their gazes drilling into each other.
Silence.
