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Punctual, handsome, and he had a good memory. The man’s list of attributes kept getting longer and longer.
“I was so nervous the night of the fundraiser, I don’t remember much from our conversation.” With her first two questions answered, she saw no reason not to question him more. Considering he’d showed up out of the blue, he had to expect that she had questions. “When did you get back?”
“Arrived in Boston late yesterday afternoon. Spent the night at my parents’ house in Weston and drove down here this afternoon. I stopped and visited my cousin Trent before coming here. He lives in Providence with his family.”
Everyone knew Trent Sherbrooke lived in Providence. Just like everyone knew about his whirlwind romance the previous summer, his wedding in January, and the birth of his son earlier this summer.
Only a few tables inside the cafeteria were occupied when they walked inside, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day, and she headed straight for her favorite one. “I brought food from home, but I’m going to get a coffee. Do you want one?” she asked, setting her purse and lunch bag on the table.
“Have a seat. I’ll get it. Cream and sugar, right?” He pulled out the vinyl-covered chair and waited.
He remembered where she worked, when she took her break, and how she liked her coffee. Was there anything the man didn’t remember? Her ex-husband had had trouble remembering her birthday. Both years they were married, he’d forgotten. Paige nodded and handed over a five-dollar bill.
Scott ignored the money and said, “Be right back.”
She took out the sandwich and yogurt she’d packed, but her eyes never looked away from him. Jeans had been made for the man’s ass.
A few tables over she caught a gray-haired woman pointing in Scott’s direction before saying something to her companion. Immediately, the companion turned her gaze on Scott and she spoke as she watched him stop at the cashier. Paige couldn’t hear what either said, but she had a good guess. She wondered if he realized how much attention he got from women of all ages. Probably. Good-looking men usually did.
“Added the cream, but not the sugar. I wasn’t sure how much you liked.” Scott placed a large paper cup in front of her along with several packets of sugar.
The two women from the other table didn’t even bother to pretend they weren’t watching them as he sat down across from her.
Paige tried to ignore the stares coming their way, a difficult task since not only were they staring but they were whispering to each other too. “Three or four is usually good in a coffee this large.”
“Would’ve guessed more, considering how much you like sweets.” He smiled at her over the rim of his cup, and for a moment she felt like a sixteen-year-old getting smiled at by the boy she liked.
“I know you’re here until seven. What are your plans afterward?”
Plans after work? Now that was funny. Some nights after work, she had barely enough energy to drive home, never mind go out and do anything. “Hot date with my couch and television. I have two weeks of my favorite television shows waiting for me.”
“How do you have the energy after being here?” He sipped his coffee before setting it down, his expression serious.
Paige considered his question while mixing her peach yogurt. Joking around with him was so easy. Not to mention enjoyable. If she hadn’t spent time with him, she never would guessed he’d be so good at making her laugh. “It’s tough, but you do what you have to.”
“Would company fit in with your hot date tonight? I’ll bring chocolate brownies.”
She pictured them standing together on his roof kissing. If he came by tonight, there was a good chance they’d do more of that. “You—”
“I’m sorry. I have to ask,” one of the two women who’d been watching them said, stopping at their table. “You look familiar. You play the new doctor on Code Red, don’t you?” She directed her question to Scott.
“No, sorry. I’m not on television.”
“See, I told you.” The taller of the two women nudged the other in the arm. “He’s one of the men featured in the article about the bachelor auction. He’s the president’s nephew, Scott Belmont.”
“Not possible. He doesn’t look anything like the president. Everyone in that family looks alike.” The shorter gray-haired woman said before Scott could confirm or deny.
“I’m telling you, Pam, it’s him. I’ve read every article printed about the auction. ” The woman’s voice went up several decibels when she spoke, and Paige was glad the cafeteria remained fairly empty. “And I read the newest biography released about the Sherbrooke family last year.”
“Denise, you don’t know everything.”
Paige remembered the release of the book. It had been advertised as the tell-all book about the family. For several months it had stayed on best-seller lists. Once the family sued both the author and the publishing house and the so-called secrets inside were proven to be fabrications, it had disappeared from bookshelves.
Judging by Scott’s expression, he hadn’t forgotten about the book or the lies printed inside.
“Ladies, please.” He looked at the shorter woman. “Pam, your friend is correct. I did participate in the Helping Hands fundraiser and the President is my uncle.”
“See, I was right,” Denise, the taller of the two women, said.
