“Hello?” I say, trying to sound calm.
“Hi,” a deep male voice says. “A couple of years ago I gave you a ride in the rain. I’m calling about the compensation you promised to me.”
Everything inside me immediately deflates, then almost instantly swells back up in rage. “What the hell kind of scam is this?” Cursing under my breath, I pull the phone from my ear, about to hang up—
“I drove a young woman to the ER on a rainy evening. She promised to pay, but didn’t have enough cash and left me this number.”
Holy…I remember! “Which hospital was this?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Ronald Reagan Medical Center. The woman had dark hair and was soaking wet. Got rainwater all over my car seat.”
My hand flies to my cheek. “Oh my God!”
“Do I have the right number?” A tinge of impatience roughens the voice.
“No, no! I mean, yes. Yes, you have the right number. I thought you’d lost it because you never called. But I’m glad we could finally connect.” I smile, happy to be dealing with the kind stranger from before. People like him are the reason I believe the world is a great place and am hopeful about the future, no matter how hard my life feels at the moment. “How much do I owe you? I can Venmo you right now.”
“Don’t worry about the cash. Would it be possible for us to meet? Just for a coffee or something.”
“Uh… I guess. Why?”
“I have a proposal for you.”
Chapter Twelve
Grace
An hour later, I arrive at Merry, the gorgeous café in the lobby of the Aylster Hotel. It’s impossible to look at this building and not think of Huxley. I’ll probably never forget him—every time I see the place it brings to mind the most erotic experience of my life.
A valet in a crisp uniform takes my car. I walk up to the entrance, trying to ignore both memories of Huxley and the feeling that I don’t belong in this sea of expensive vehicles and casual affluence. But then, I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere since I met Nelson. I feel so alone without Mom by my side.
I stop by the ATM in the back of the lobby and take out two hundred bucks. It should be enough to pay the stranger for the ride.Or at least I hope it is.He mentioned his seat getting wet, and if there was any damage to the leather, he may want me to pay for it.
Can’t recall the exact make of the car.I was in a panic at the time, plus it was dark and raining. I can’t even remember clearly what the driver looked like. But I definitely recall that his car was one of those super-expensive ones Mick sighs over all the time.
If he wanted you to pay for the seat that bad, he would’ve contacted you already.
Yeah, true, but then why is he contacting menowand saying he wants to see me in person? This can’t possibly be over some cleaning bill… Can it?
Okay, no reason to get anxious yet. He hasn’t said why he wants to see me. And if I ruined his seat, Ishouldpay for it. That’s the right thing to do. I just pray it doesn’t break my little bank.
The cash stuffed in my purse, I make my way to Merry. Named after the wife of the current CEO of the Aylster hotel chain, it’s one of the swankiest cafés in the city. Beautiful golden marble sparkles on the floor and walls, and Swedish crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceiling in a chic contemporary display. The place plays nothing but classical music at a low volume so people can linger over their drinks and converse with ease.
Coffee here costs a kidney and half your liver, but it tastes like liquid gold and has an intense jolt of caffeine to wake you up. I would never come here on my own—it’swayout of my budget—but Andreas loves the place.
I probably should’ve suggested a different place—some cheaper café,I tell myself as I stand in the entrance. But I was so surprised to get a call from the man who helped me out that I forgot to try to change the venue.Well, it doesn’t matter.No need to order anything. Just thank him again, give him the money and get out. How hard can it be?
I look around for the man.He said he’d be in a white shirt and khaki slacks.Most of the tables are occupied by well-heeled and even better-dressed patrons. Many of them have tall, asymmetrical tiered trays of colorful desserts and coffee and tea. Merry has an afternoon tea service, although most people get coffee. Andreas sure did.
“Grace?”
I turn and look up at the voice I never thought I’d hear again. “Huxley?”
He’s as gorgeous as I remember—the beautiful eyes with a hint of silver, the straight and narrow bridge of his nose andthe fullness of his lips. The sight warms my blood as my libido relives the sensation of having that mouth between my legs.
“What are you doing here?” I manage a calm voice despite the urge to fan my suddenly overheated face and neck. “Didn’t you go back?”
His eyebrows pinch. “Back where?”
