Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Barclay Hammond,” Jeffrey says.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought he was like seventy.”
“Barclay Hammond Senior is, but the guy at the bar is his son, Barclay Junior.”
“Wow.” I’ve been reduced to one word, which is pretty sad considering I graduated with honors in English.
“Listen, I need to get back to my six-top.” He picks up the tray and tilts his head to the right. “They keep looking my way and frowning.”
“Sorry. Sorry,” I say, shooing him away with my hands.
“Oh, by the way, he paid for your dinner.”
“Really?”
“You must have made quite the impression on him,” he adds, a sparkle in his eyes.
Even though this small bowl of soup and drink are double what it costs at home, it feels wrong accepting Barclay Hammond’s payment knowing he’s a typical Manhattan playboy.
I wish he’d come back so I can tell him what I think of him, then throw my prosecco in his handsome face and watch the drops dribble over his Armani tie. But it would be a shame to let my favorite drink go to waste.
3
Barclay
“Barclay.” My sister, Victoria, sits across from me as we eat dinner at the Four Seasons in Midtown. I glance up from my now empty plate and see her regarding me with squinted eyes as she leans in her chair, her plate pushed toward the middle of the table. “You haven’t said a thing to me in fifteen minutes while you inhaled your steak and frites.”
“Sorry, sis. I’ve had a lot going on at work.” The lie slips off my tongue.
I barely remember eating the food served to me and my distraction has nothing to do with work. It’s the gorgeous creature I saw at the hotel bar after leaving the office. She reminded me how much I love the initial attraction and flirtation of meeting a woman—the addictive desire to pursue her and see if she feels the same electric chemistry buzzing between us.
My mind’s been replaying the vision of the pink bombshell. It’s a continuous loop that slows during my favorite parts, like when she looked over her shoulder in disbelief that I was paying attention to her. How could I not notice her fresh beauty in a sexy pink dress? It exposed the creamy skin of her shoulders, the blond waves tumbling over them. Damn, she was a sight.
I smile, thinking about the blush on her cheeks when she realized I was eyeing only her. I can’t remember the last woman I saw blushing from simple eye contact.
She was old enough to drink, but way too young to handle a man like me. I’d likely break her heart and hate myself for it later. And the fact is, I don’t have time to invest in a relationship. My every waking minute is spent working.
“Hmmm. I see,” she says, gazing over her wine glass at me. “You know you just smiled—something you haven’t done in months around me.”
Damn, she caught me. I wipe the grin off my face as Victoria searches my eyes for the truth. My expressionless cover-up is likely useless, since I’ve never been able to hide anything from her, which gives her an unfair advantage. God knows I don’t have a clue what’s going through her mind, though I’m certain she’s about to tell me.
“When was your last date?”
“I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“I’m not talking about a girlfriend. A simple date. You know, those adult get-togethers for two that usually center around a meal and conversation?” She releases a frustrated sigh, setting down her wine glass. The topic belongs to her now, dammit.
With her black hair atop her head, serious blue eyes, and nosy questions, she resembles my mother, making me wonder if dear old Mom is somehow responsible for this intrusive discussion.
“How about dessert? They have a delicious flourless chocolate cake.”
I could always distract her with sweets when we were growing up. If I hung a bag of gummy bears in her face, she’d forget about the heirloom china or crystal I’d break.
“Nice attempt at evading my question, but I worry about you not having a life outside the company.” Her eyes soften, and she tilts her head. “It’s been two months since you and Amanda split up. It’s time to move on.”
“It’s weird. I really haven’t felt any of the normal broken heart pains that go along with a breakup. After four years together, I should feel the loss, right?”
“Maybe you just didn’t feel the right thing for her. After all, she gave you an ultimatum and you couldn’t agree to it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to get married. It’s just …” I trail off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.
“That’s what I’m getting at. She wasn’t the one for you. It’s not your fault. We can’t help who we do and don’t fall in love with. It either happens or it doesn’t. But it won’t ever happen if you don’t date.”