Page 11 of Mister Rival

I think Dad just wants an excuse to wine and dine Alison Archer

Bradley

Finally you’re saying something that makes sense

I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose as I watch their messages unfold.

Me

Like I’d need an excuse? What I did today was strategy, keep the opposition on their toes. It’s textbook stuff

Noah

Great until our opposition starts plotting their revenge. I thought the first lesson in real estate was not to burn your bridges?

Me

You’re a romantic, son, just like your mother

Bradley

Cut the crap & admit it, Dad. You’ve been jonesing over Alison for years

I reach for my glass of water, amusement on my lips as I watch the messages bouncing in.

Joshua

That escalated quickly

Bradley

Deny it any time, Dad

Noah

Who says jonesing anymore?

A female voice alerts me and I almost choke on my sip of water. I cough into my fist, my eyes snapping up as I half stand. The first thing I see are long, tanned legs peeking out from the sexy slit of Alison’s knee-length red dress. My eyes ascend, roaming over curvy hips, a cinched waist, and a rack I’d sit up and beg for.

Long, red hair flows over one shoulder, perky lips, creamy skin… and finally, emerald-green eyes that sparkle brighter than any diamond I’ve ever seen.

Alison Archer sure knows how to make an entrance.

Chapter Six

ALISON

Blue eyes, with a depth that would rival the entire Pacific Ocean, stare up at me. I’m fairly certain he just gave me a once over, too. In fact, I know he did. His lips quirk a smile as he stands, quickly pulling the chair out for me gallantly. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s no gentleman, but I sit anyway, refusing to thank him because he’s a rude prick.

“Tristan.” I nod when we’re both seated.

“Alison. My, my, aren’t you a vision?”

“What’s wrong? Not used to seeing me out of my business suit?”

His tongue traces his bottom lip swiftly, so quick I may have missed it if I wasn’t a little caught off guard by his face. It’s always been his money maker, and we both know it.

I’ve never denied Tristan Lucas isn’t as sexy and distinguished as they come with his designer silver fox vibes, five-hundred-dollar haircut and five o’clock shadow, tamed within an inch of its life. His chin is strong and square, high cheekbones accentuate his tanned face and those ocean-blues dance mischievously. “Clearly not as much as I’d like to.”

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