Truth Or Dare (His Wicked Games #2)
““Just a minute, Dad,” I say without looking up. My pen scratches across the paper, slashing through the numbers I spent all morning typing up. “Leda Collins called and changed her head count again. Now she needs twelve round tables and ten extra chairs. I told her there’d be a rush charge on the additional linens, but she said she was fine with that.”
I push a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I’ve been staring at this latest batch of invoices for so long that my eyes are starting to cross.
“Have you heard from the Robinsons?” I continue, turning to my computer. “They were supposed to call and confirm for the twenty-eighth. And we should probably figure out when we’re doing the summer gallery show next year. I already have a bride who wants to use us for her reception in—”
A hand grasps me firmly by the chin and tilts my face up. Suddenly I’m staring into a pair of dark, intoxicating eyes, and my breath hitches in my throat.
“What’s this?” says a deep, familiar voice.
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