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Her smile indicates this is exactly what she was hoping to hear. She leans forward, allowing him a slight peek down the front of her dress. He’s furious to find her so obvious. She’s proving to be a major disappointment, and she will be punished severely.
“What about me?” he asks.
“Much,muchbetter,” she says, another giggle following. “I think you know you’re pretty hot.”
He glances toward the floor, as if embarrassed by the compliment.
“So, Mr. Right Now,” she says, taking the lead. “What is it you do?”
The question catches him off guard. He’s already told her what he supposedly does for a living, and the fact that she doesn’t remember means she either has a very poor memory or he’s just one of many men she’s been meeting online and it’s hard to keep track, which again, is as infuriating as it is unexpected. Not that it matters. He intends to be thelastman she meets, online or otherwise. “Stockbroker.”
If that rings any bells, she gives no such sign. “Must be challenging.”
“It has its moments. And you? Heard back about your interview yet?”
The expression on her face freezes, almost as if she has no idea what he’s talking about. It makes him wonder how much of what she’s told him is true. Perhaps she’s as good a liar, as skilled a game player, as he is, an unexpected twist he finds exciting.
Because this is a game where there can be only one winner.
And, Wildflower,he says with his eyes,you’re looking at him.
“Nothing yet,” she says, recovering. “Hopefully soon. But let’s not talk about work. It’s too depressing.”
“Fine by me. What would you like to talk about?”
“How about you start by telling me your name. I mean, I can’t keep calling you Mr. Right Now.”
“It’s Smith,” he says, deciding to try it out. What the hell? It’s not like she’ll get the chance to tell anyone.
“That’s your first name? Smith?”
“It was my mother’s maiden name,” he says. Another lie. His mother’s maiden name was Ukrainian and virtually unpronounceable.
“I like it. It’s very sexy.”
“Glad you approve. And you?”
She hesitates. “It’s Heather,” she says finally.
Heather?Why, you lying little bitch,he thinks, deciding she might make a worthy adversary after all. “You don’t sound sure,” he says with a smile.
“Well, it’s…complicated.”
“I look forward to hearing why,” he says, as the waitress approaches with the glass of champagne.
“Maybe later. After I know you better.”
“To later.” He clinks his glass against hers.
“To later,” she repeats, taking a long sip. “Hmm. Good stuff. But I warn you, this is probably going to go straight to my head. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“You’re not on some crazy diet, are you?”
“God, no.No…it’s…”
“Complicated?”
“A little.” She giggles, then takes another, longer sip of her champagne.
