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My bio page on the Faye & Sons’ website pops up. My social media accounts take up the next four spots.
There are quotes that clients have made and an old magazine article that features a picture of Clive Parker, the head of Corteck, a software company that hired me to help them launch a series of new apps two years ago, and me.
I read every result; page after page of generic work-related material is all I find.
Snapping the cover of my laptop shut, I breathe a sigh of relief. My biggest mistake hasn’t found its way online. I pray that it never does.
Chapter 32
Jeremy
“You’re more creative than you look.”
A smile plays on my lips as I stare across the table at Linny. “Is that a compliment?”
She shrugs and finishes the last sip of wine from her glass. “That’s for you to decide.”
We’ve been sitting at this table in a bistro on the Upper West Side for the past hour. I ordered for us both when I arrived. She dove into the steak salad with gusto, complimenting me on my good taste.
I told her to eat it all since I plan on using up every ounce of her energy at the hotel around the corner once she agrees to join me there.
“I’ll take it as intended.” I drink from the glass of ice water the server has already refilled twice for me. “You don’t view me as the creative type, but you’re impressed by my creativity as it relates to my plan for us to fuck.”
Her brows lift at the last word. “Is that why you called this meeting? So you can tempt me with steak and wine before you strip me naked?”
I’d agree immediately except that the pale pink sweater dress she has on is the hottest thing I’ve seen her in, save for the tank top and tutu.
A vision of her in that dress
on her knees with my cock sliding between her lips has been floating through my mind since she walked into the bistro.
I lean my forearms on the table and drop my voice to a low whisper. “We’re going to spend all afternoon fucking each other at the hotel around the corner.”
Her gaze drifts to the door of the bistro. “Are you taking me to a hotel instead of your place because you’re worried someone will spot us?”
That should be the reason, but it’s not.
I can’t take her to my apartment. Explaining why is a conversation for another time, another day, preferably when whatever is happening between us has a foundation that’s rooted in more than an undeniable attraction and phenomenal sex.
“We could go to my place, but Mitchell drops by there sometimes to annoy the hell out of me.” She rolls her eyes. “I never invite him over but that hasn’t stopped him from showing up unannounced.”
“When did your dad marry his mom?”
My question surprises her. I see it in the slowing of her hand as she lifts the napkin from the table to bring it to her mouth. “It’s been about seven years now.”
“Were you happy for them?” I ask, searching her face for any sign that this subject is making her uncomfortable. The only thing I see is quiet resignation.
She nods. “After my parents divorced, I wanted them to be happy. For the first couple of years I wanted them to do that together, but once I realized that would never happen, I was rooting for them both to find love again.”
It’s a mature approach to a fucked up situation.
“Did your mom find love again?”
A soft smile tugs at her lips. “She’s still looking, but she’s having a lot of fun figuring that out.”
“Tell me about your sister.” I lean back in the chair and cross my arms over my chest. “What’s she like?”
“Bethy?” Her entire face brightens. “She’s bold and smart. Bethy is blonde, blue-eyed. She’s the spitting image of my mom.”
