Free Bad Boy of Wall Street: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance by Samantha Westlake

pouring out of me. "I think that this is a story that could really right a wrong, and it needs to be told. So I'm staying, no matter what you say."
    "I'll try to keep it interesting for you," he whispered back to me as I leaned back in, landing partially on top of him as he fell back in the sand, and suddenly, I realized that we were right on top of each other, looking into each other's eyes.
    If this was a movie, this would be the part where the hero and heroine share their first kiss.
    Of course, if this was a movie, I wouldn't be so damn cold, and I'd probably be wearing size four jeans. I also wouldn't have little grains of sand inside of those jeans, working themselves into all sorts of uncomfortable spots with every movement I made.
    So instead of kissing, Rob and I just gazed into each other's eyes for a single, timeless, paralyzing moment before his hands gently eased me back up. I blinked and broke the gaze between us, and the moment passed as quickly as it had arrived.
    "We should probably head back to the house," Rob said as we climbed up to our feet. He didn't look up at me as he spoke, and I frowned at him. Did his voice sound husky? Had he also been thinking about what it would be like if he kissed me?
    Yes, I said 'also'. In that moment, I'd totally been picturing kissing the Bad Boy of Wall Street.
    Had he been imagining kissing April Carpenter, the cute and spunky reporter digging for the real story on his life?
    I grimaced to myself as I stood up. Spunky? I'd have to change that word when I wrote up this story. Spunky made me sound like I was a teen girl, exploring a mystery like Nancy Drew. I'd need to find a different descriptor.
    Not that I'd be writing this part up at all, I interjected in my own thoughts a second later. Any rogue thoughts of a potential relationship with my story's subject would stay firmly in the margins, not going into the article!
    Rob offered me his arm to walk me back to the house, and I accepted the offer. We headed up through the dunes, my legs feeling chilled and wooden as I plodded along. What I really needed when we got back, I decided, was a long, hot shower - or maybe even a bath, if there was a tub in the house. Something with steaming hot water, to get the feeling back into my toes.
    And then, I went on, I needed to go to bed, and not think any more dangerous thoughts about any potential attraction that I felt towards Rob Hendricks.
     

Chapter Ten
    *
    By the time that Hook found the right office in downtown Manhattan, he was already feeling steamed, his normally short temper frayed even worse than usual. He stomped into the office and shot a murderous glare at the receptionist that was vicious enough to make her jaw snap shut halfway through her greeting.
    Why the hell couldn't these places put up some damn signs? he grumbled to himself. It wasn't like they didn't have enough money - all the buildings around here were skyscrapers, made of glass and steel and with stupidly modern, minimalistic lobbies. They practically oozed money and new wealth. Couldn't they have spared a couple hundred bucks to get a goddamn sign for their front door?
    After stomping in and out of half a dozen office buildings on the block where Cartmann Securities was supposed to be located, Hook finally found a small, black plaque with raised steel letters in the back of the lobby. The plaque proclaimed that Cartmann Securities was located up on the thirtieth floor. There, was that so damn hard? Couldn't they have stuck the sign out on the front of the building?
    Emerging on the thirtieth floor, Hook crossed the lobby towards the receptionist that he'd silenced with his angry glare. There were a handful of low-slung chairs that looked like modern art pieces scattered around, but he ignored them. Waiting was for other people.
    "Um, can I help you?" the receptionist managed, when Hook rapped his knuckles on top of her desk.
    "Yeah, I hope so." Hook realized that he was still glaring, and he forced