The Good Girl by Tracy Reed

Author:Tracy Reed [Reed, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00ZM0HUPG
Published: 2015-06-29T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Gabriella

PHILLIPPE SAID WE WOULD BE staying over an extra day. He gave me no instructions so I wasn’t able to prepare. My phone rang at seven, and I recognized the ringtone and pressed the answer call button.

“Hello.”

“Good morning, Miss Townsend.”

“Good morning, Tony.”

“Mr. Marchant wants you to meet him in the lobby in an hour for a breakfast meeting.”

“Okay.”

“And dress casual.”

“Casual?” Strange order.

“Yes. He said you will be doing a lot of walking after the meeting.”

“All right.” I got up and got dressed.

I stood in the lobby looking for Tony and Phillippe, but didn’t see either of them. I walked out to the valet stand and saw the car, but neither of them. I headed back inside and heard a horn honk and someone call my name. I turned around and it was Phillippe in a vintage white Cadillac convertible.

“What’s this?” I smiled. “Tony said we have a breakfast meeting?”

“We do.” He got out of the car and walked over and hugged me. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. What’s going on?”

“You and I are going to breakfast. I heard about this place about twenty minutes away that serves the best biscuits and gravy.” He escorted me to the car.

“What do you know about biscuits and gravy?” I teased.

“Girl, you’d be surprised at the things you don’t think I should know, but do.” He winked and opened the door. I got into the car, he closed the door, walked around to the driver’s side and got in behind the wheel. “Ready?”

“Miss Townsend.”

I turned and saw Tony walking towards the car. “I’ll take your bag.” He reached into the back seat and picked up my tote bag. “Have fun.” He smiled.

“Bye.”

It was a beautiful day. I looked at Phillippe and couldn’t believe how my life had changed in such a short time.

We pulled into a parking lot next to a little grey building. He got out, walked around and helped me out of the car. “My hair must look a mess.” I reached into my bag for something to pull my hair back and found a barrette. I tried to smooth my hair back.

He reached up and stopped me. “You look beautiful.”

“I feel like it’s a wild mess.”

He eased his fingers along the nape of my neck and up the back of my head. The heat of his fingers penetrated my scalp, sending a charge straight to my core. He gently combed through my hair with his fingers, arranging the curls on my shoulder. He stepped closer and I found myself mesmerized by his smile and gentleness as he repeated the move. He leaned in close and my heart started racing anticipating the feel of his lips against mine. He lifted my chin up and slowly lowered his mouth. A horn sounded and he pulled away.

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