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He studied her profile. “It feels like you know what you’re doing,” Drew murmured.
She looked up at him, their eyes locking. After several moments passed, she said, “I think you’ll be okay.”
She carefully lifted his foot from her lap and slipped from the chair, setting his foot down on the seat she’d just vacated. “Why don’t you sit here for the next three hours, just to be sure?”
He grinned. “Will you come back to check on me?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so. After all, I’m a pediatric surgeon. I wouldn’t want to…how did you describe it? Get in over my head?”
She winked and walked away.
3
Drew had already removed his necktie and jacket before he walked through the door of his executive suite. He headed straight for the wet bar, but set down the decanter of bourbon he’d ordered without ever removing the crystal stopper. If he was going to have a drink, he’d rather have it at the bar downstairs instead of in his hotel room. Being alone held little appeal after being surrounded by his classmates tonight. And to think he’d almost skipped the reunion.
He didn’t bother with the tie, but slipped his jacket back on before leaving the room and heading for the elevators. It stopped on the eighth floor and a group of twentysomethings boarded. They wore matching bright pink T-shirts withSHANNA’S BACHELORETTE WEEKENDwritten across the chest. Their hair matched the T-shirts.
“Catching the bars on Sixth Street in all this rain?” Drew asked in an effort to make small talk.
“All night long!” the women answered in obviously practiced unison. They cheered and high-fived each other until the elevator made it to the first floor.
As if their youth and exuberance hadn’t already made him feel old, Drew heard himself say, “Be safe out there,” as they exited the elevator.
When had he gone from being the guy asking to join a group of beautiful women on their barhopping adventure to the guy issuing warnings like a concerned dad? If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself crocheting alongside London.
Drew did a double take as he looked toward the bar and spotted her. He was surprised to see her still here, since the reunion had ended a half hour ago. These days, the class of 2007 was more concerned with making it home to their kids than partying past midnight.
He walked up to where she stood with both elbows on the bar. “You’re still here?” he asked.
Was that a flash of interest he saw in her eyes when she looked over at him, or was that just wishful thinking on his part?
“Yes, I am.” She held up a silver credit card. “I have to square away the remainder of the bill for tonight.”
“With your personal credit card?”
She shrugged. “I added a few things that weren’t agreed upon by the committee. It’s only right that I cover it.”
“Let me take care of that.” Drew pulled out his wallet from inside his jacket pocket.
“Put that away,” London admonished. “I may not be a rich hedge fund manager, but my little job down at the county hospital pays me well enough to cover a few dozen bacon-wrapped shrimp and fried ravioli.”
“But you’ve already put in enough of your time planning this reunion, you shouldn’t have to come out of your pocket,” Drew said. “And don’t try to deny that you put most of this together. Tonight had the London Kelley hand stamp all over it.”
“It was my job as class president,” she said.
“I call bullshit on that. You just wanted to make sure things were done your way,” he said. Drew raised his brows as she remained silent. “What? No rebuttal?”
“Shut up, Drew.” She laughed. She jutted her chin at his leg. “How’s the ankle?”
He stretched his foot out and rotated it. “Good as new.” He put his credit card back in his wallet and tucked it away. “If you won’t let me cover the balance for the reunion, you can at least let me buy you a drink.” He pointed to the tall, smoke-gray windows. The storm raging outside made it nearly impossible to see anything beyond the sidewalk. “There’s no way you’re going anywhere anytime soon.”
The woman Drew had noticed London talking to earlier at the reunion—the banquet manager, he presumed—came over, and London handed her the card.
“I’ll have this back to you in just a few,” the woman said.
“Thanks, Yvette.” London glanced at the windows, then turned her gaze on him. Her eyes traveled from his head to his feet, as if sizing him up, or trying to figure out what kind of game he was running.
“It’s just a drink,” Drew said. “Something to do while you wait out the rain.”
