“Hey, Evan. What has you awake this early on a Saturday morning?”
“Sean and I wanted to apologize for not meeting you last night. Hopefully, you met someone interesting to keep you company,” he chuckles.
“Yes, and no.” I sigh, staring out the window at the street far below. There’s no sign of Brooke. In fact, there’s not much to see. It’s Saturday morning. Downtown LA isn’t brimming with pedestrians and traffic.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I spent most of the evening stranded in the lift due to a brownout in the area.”
“That’s bloody bad luck.”
“It was, except I had the company of a particularly interesting woman.”
I exhale, running my fingers through my still damp hair, annoyed I didn’t manage this morning more deftly. It never occurred to me that she’d leave in such a hurry, and we wouldn’t have more time together.
“I guess it worked out okay then. Why don’t you bring her to our place at the beach today? We’re having a party.”
“I wish I could, but she left before I could ask for her number. Hell, I don’t even know her last name.”
“I bet you didn’t tell her who you are, did you?”
“No. It didn’t come up in conversation.”
“That’s where you mucked it up. You should have found an excuse to tell her. When women learn who we are, they never walk away. It’s usually us trying to send them on their way.”
“True. It’s not a big deal though,” I fib as I sit on the side of the bed where she slept, wishing she were still here.
Her citrus scent lingers on the rumpled bed sheets. As strange as it sounds, I miss her, which makes me frown. I’m disappointed that it won’t be easy to erase her from my thoughts.
That’s a strange, new feeling for me. My friends and I have unlimited opportunities to party with beautiful women who are more than willing to satisfy our needs. Why does missing a chance to see Brooke again bother me so much?
Evan’s voice draws my attention back to our conversation. “That’s why you should come to Malibu. The beach is filled with endless possibilities. And we hired a great chef, so the food is first rate.”
“Unfortunately, I’m stuck here until after the charity events. Maybe you and Sean can come to one of them.”
“Sure. Text the info.”
“Will do. Talk later.”
If they are still in town when I’m done with Dad’s charity work, I’ll head to Malibu for a few days. That will take my mind off Brooke. It’s for the best that we won’t see each other again anyway. Something tells me she’s not the type for a weekend fling, and I’m not looking for anything serious at this point in my life. At thirty-two, I have a few more years before my parents will insist I marry and provide an heir.
And when that time comes, I’ll be expected to wed Lady Whitfield. We’ve known each other since uni. She’s attractive, but there’s no real chemistry between us. It’s purely a business pairing that would benefit our two families. That’s why my parents think she’s the perfect match for me. In our realm, abeneficial partner is considered more important than love. We both know the deal.
That’s another reason I’m avoiding anything serious with a woman. I have no desire to hurt someone if I’m going to need to end the relationship to fulfill my family’s long-held expectations that Lady Whitfield and I will wed.
I can’t even imagine what my parents would do if I ignored their wishes and proposed to someone else.
4
BROOKE
After one of the strangest nights of my life, I returned home Saturday morning, showered, and hid under the covers on my bed for the rest of the day.
As the remnants of my headache waned, memories of my time in the elevator with Stu returned with a vengeance. I can’t believe what happened. It was bad enough that I had a panic attack due to being stuck in the confined space. Then I made it worse by kissing a stranger, drinking too much of his whiskey, cuddling against him, and passing out in his arms.
Ugh. God knows what embarrassing things I said to Stu after the alcohol took hold. Regardless, I can’t imagine what he must be thinking of me. It must have been incredibly awkward for him to carry me to his suite. Reliving it in my head is painful enough.
Cringing at the memories as they run through my head, I’d like to erase them—except for the kiss and the feel of his warm body against mine. I’d rather hold onto that part.
