Going Down (Quickies #1) Read Online Free Page B

I’m sure there are some things you want to ask me, and there are definitely some things I want to ask you. We can eat later, unless you’re hungry now?”  
    I shook my head. “I can wait to eat, but I don’t have any questions,” I said before I could fully think about the words that were coming out of my mouth.  
    Carter laughed as he pressed the mouth of the bottle to a glass and poured. “You don’t?”  
    Might as well be honest, I figured. “I Googled you.”  
    “You did?” He handed me a glass, then poured one for himself. “Isn’t that considered internet stalking?” he teased.  
    “Or it’s a smart move for a girl like me, who gets invited to a stranger’s house for dinner.”  
    “You came, so you couldn’t have found anything too incriminating.”  
    “Not really,” I replied.
    “So tell me, Chloe. What do you know about me?” His eyes sparkled under the warm glow of the kitchen lights.
    I took a sip of wine, enjoying the flavor on my tongue. “You’re twenty seven, the middle son to Claire and Michael Armstrong, both heirs to shipping fortunes. You graduated from Penn after a brief, ill-fated stint at Yale. You have two brothers and one sister.”  
    Carter looked at me, his piercing eyes making it difficult for me to turn away. “Those are a lot of facts, but not the important things. Besides, you’re at an advantage; I’m easy to look up. It’s much harder to find dirt on you.”  
    I laughed, gently swirling the wine in my glass. “You could always hire someone to dig up my past. I’m sure you have the resources.”  
    He nodded and smiled. “I do, but I’d rather you tell me.”  
    “There’s not much to tell.”  
    “Let me be the judge of that.”  
    I shrugged, looking down at the red in my glass. “I’m twenty three, the youngest of two kids. I was raised by a single mother, and worked my way through college so I could have a better life.”  
    Carter took a deep breath, setting his wine down on the counter and moving closer to me, his tall frame overshadowing me. He reached up, slid the back of his index finger down the slope of my jaw, and there went those damned goosebumps again.  
    “Chloe,” he said, all soft and amused, like it was his favorite word. “Tell me something about you that I can’t find on your Facebook profile.”  
    I sighed and closed my eyes. “I’m scared of sharks and bees. I love the way letters look when they’re printed on paper, love the smell of the leather binding of my favorite book.”
    “Is that what led you to get a job at a publishing house?” he asked.  
    I looked up at him, eyes wide. I hadn’t told him that. He must’ve recognized the vague beginnings of panic in my eyes, because he was quick to explain.  
    “I asked Paige about you,” he said, smiling. “It was all above the board, promise.”
    I laughed, kind of nervous. “I like reading, that’s what led me to get a job at a publishing house. I read through manuscripts, plucking the gems from the scrap pile.”  
    “Do you write?”  
    “No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I lack the discipline, and the talent. I’m just a reader, I love books.”  
    “Discipline is overrated,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand. “Come, I have something I’d like to show you.”
    He led me out of the kitchen and down a long, narrow hallway, to a large wooden door on the right. When he opened the door, city light was flooding through the windows that stretched two stories high, casting a romantic glow across the immaculate wooden floors.  
    The room was full of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, each one lined with carefully placed books. There was a glass case to the right, which I guessed probably held first editions. First editions . I was in awe.  
    Carter didn’t turn on the lights, but the moonlight was enough to see by.  
    “May I?” I asked, nodding toward one of the shelves.  
    “Absolutely.”  
    I walked over to the shelf