Playboy Boss: A Billionaire Boss Office Romance by Sophie Brooks

Author:Sophie Brooks [Brooks, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-06-14T18:30:00+00:00

A week later, the situation was dire at my house. “Come on, come on, you can do it.” But the garbage disposal was having none of that. It clearly couldn’t do it, judging by the three inches of water in the sink. Spinach, cheese, and grape tomatoes floated in it. Yuck. I’d dredged up lots of gross stuff when I stuck a wooden spoon down there, and all I’d gotten for my trouble was a sick groaning sound from the disposal. And now I needed a new wooden spoon.

To top it all off, it was Friday evening. Even if I could afford a plumber, there was no way I could swing for the weekend or evening rates. And I couldn’t go all weekend with no kitchen sink. I had to eat—assuming my appetite ever returned after seeing that unappealing mess. In order to eat, I needed to cook. And that required a lot of things, including the kitchen sink.

With a sigh, I called Jake, only realizing after the phone was ringing that he might be out tonight. On a date. With Stacie.

But he answered on the fourth ring, and it was quiet in the background. He sounded like he was probably in his new apartment.

I explained the problem and even did a pretty spot-on impersonation of the grinding noise the garbage disposal was making.

Jake was somewhat less than sympathetic. “Red, it’s Friday night. I worked over fifty hours this week. Yesterday I hauled hundred-pound bags of cement. Every muscle in my body aches. I’m guessing that laying on your kitchen floor with my head under the sink is not going to improve that.”

Probably not. I knew Jake truly was tired. He was a general contractor, and he ended up doing a lot of the work himself at the building sites he supervised. I felt guilty for asking, but I didn’t have any other choice. “Please, Jake. I need to be able to use the sink. I need to be able to cook.” Suddenly, inspiration struck. “Without the sink, I can’t make yummy things like that macaroni ‘n’ cheese you love.”

“The one with the bacon and toasted bread crumbs on top?” He moaned a little as he said it, and even out of context the sound turned me on.

“If you fix the sink, I’ll make you a huge pan and bring it over. And some of those chocolate chip cookies with walnuts.” From his silence, I could tell that I had his attention. I used to wonder if those cookies were the only thing he liked better than sex.

“You’re killing me,” he said. “Can’t you just once call someone else? Like, say, a professional?” He paused, and I let the silence ride. At last he sighed and spoke again. “If you want me to drag my tired ass over, I want more than mac ‘n’ cheese.”

“I said I’d bake cookies, too.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I want a different kind of payment.”

My breath hitched. My brain wasn’t entirely sure where

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