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She giggles. “What would you have asked CeeCee about me?”
“Your name, to start with. Your age. I definitely would have asked if you’re a music student.”
She shakes her head. “Journalism. I’m graduating next week.”
My dick cautiously jumps for joy. She’s not off-limits. “Congratulations. Are you a musician on the side, maybe? A singer?”
“Nope. Just a writer. My passion is investigative journalism.”
I’m losing my mind with relief. Euphoria. Lust. Even as the business side of my brain is slightly disappointed I won’t have the chance to make her a star. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m turning twenty-two next month.”
She just keeps getting better and better. “I’m relieved to know you’re not a teenager,” I admit. “The thought occurred to me at the panel, as I was flirting with you, that your age could very well end in the word ‘teen.’ Once I realized that, I was pretty disgusted with myself for continuing to flirt.”
“Not disgusted enough to stop, apparently.”
I chuckle. “True.”
“So if I’d turned out to be nineteen, you would have hung up with CeeCee tomorrow, and not tracked me down?”
I pause, unsure. Hearing her say that out loud, it doesn’t ring true to me, even though before today, I would have sworn I’d never be caught dead pursuing a teenager. But, come on, I saw Georgina today and brazenly came on to her for a full hour, even though I knew there was a good chance she was eighteen or nineteen... So can I honestly say I wouldn’t have pursued her if it had turned out she wasn’t old enough to order a beer?
But, still. There’s no reason to say any of that out loud, and come off as a dirty old man. And so, I say, “If CeeCee had told me you were a teenager, then I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have tracked you down.”
She laughs. “Liar. If I’d been nineteen, you’d have told yourself ‘Hey, she’s legal,’ and then done exactly what you’re doing right now. Whatever that is.”
“Whatever that is? Oh, God. I’ve got to step up my game, if you don’t know. Georgina, sweetheart, I’m hitting on you. With all my might.”
She bites her luscious lower lip. “Oh? Good to know.” She smiles. “I think it’s interesting you think nineteen is too young for you, but twenty-one isn’t. Explain that one to me.”
“Oh, twenty-one is too young for me, too.”
We both laugh.
“Actually, before this moment, I would have sworn I’d never hit on a twenty-one-year-old. Never say never, I guess.”
She adjusts her elbows on the bar. “To what do you attribute this astonishing reversal of yours, Mr. Rivers?”
I motion to her, like the answer is self-explanatory, and then add, “It’s easy for a man to draw imaginary lines in the sand before he knows Georgina Ricci exists in the world.”
She blushes. “Aw, well. Don’t beat yourself up too much about being a creeper. Age is just a number, anyway.”
“I think you have to get to your late twenties to be able to say that with a straight face. Before then, you come off as naïve.”
“Oh, I’m not naïve. Not in the slightest.”
My dick tingles at the possible subtext of that statement. Does she mean that as code for something naughty? Is she trying to tell me she’s a freak in the sheets? “I didn’t mean to insult you. I just meant there’s a lot of highly formative life experience a person acquires between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.”
“There’s a lot of highly formative life experience a person acquires between the ages of zero to a hundred.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“Speaking for myself, I’ve acquired an ocean of ‘highly formative’ life experience between the ages of ten and twenty—too much of it, to be honest. But that’s life. If we’re doing it right, then we’re constantly learning and growing.”
“True, again.”
“Except when it comes to you, I guess. You’re so smart, so much smarter than the rest of us, you’re all done learning and growing, now that you’re the wise old age of thirty-five.”
Holy motherfuck. Just this fast, this sassy girl’s got me tied and trussed like a pig over a spit. And I’m loving it. I lean forward, smiling. “First off, I’m only thirty-four. Don’t rush me. And, believe me, just like everyone else, I’m still figuring plenty of stuff out.”
“Which proves my point. Age is just a number.” She lays her cheek in her palm. “You’ve honestly never dated someone my age?”
“Not since my early twenties. And, to be clear, I don’t plan to date you, Georgina. Just seduce you.”
Her eyebrows rise at my brazen comment, though she seems more amused by it than offended. “Points for honesty. Damn.”
“I’m a big fan of honesty.”
“When it suits you, apparently.” She smirks. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already lied to me at least a couple times.”
