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Something else he hates, this habit of turning a statement into a question. Either she’s drinking a white wine spritzer or she isn’t. Where’s the ambiguity? Such habits point to a lack of confidence. And confidence in a woman is something he’s always admired.
It makes watching such confidence dissolve that much more fun.
He orders a wine spritzer for her and a glass of expensive Shiraz for himself, then clinks his glass against hers. Once again, he steals a glance in Wildflower’s direction, hoping to find her eyes searching the room for his, eager to reconnect. But instead he sees that she is still fully engaged with Mr. Sam Nobody and seems to have forgotten all about him. He stiffens, deciding that he will have to remind her.
“Eric?” a voice asks.
It takes several seconds to realize the voice is Lulu’s. “Hmm? What?”
“I said, what are we toasting?”
“How about the start of a lovely evening?” he responds, recovering quickly.
“I’ll drink to that.” She takes a sip. “So, Eric,” she begins. “Your profile says you’re an entrepreneur?”
“That I am.”
“You mean like onShark Tank?”
“Exactly like onShark Tank,” he concurs, silently thanking the TV show for popularizing the idea of entrepreneurship, making it seem less vague, less in need of explanation.
“So, like, people come to you with their ideas and you invest money…?”
He tries not to blanch at her repeated use of the word “like.” Another lazy habit he intends to cure her of later. “Yeah. That’s about it. You wouldn’t believe some of the crazy ideas people come up with.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, this one guy came to me with his plan to manufacture a line of scuba equipment for dogs.”
Lulu laughs. “Really? That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s what I told him.” He takes a sip of his drink. “He actually has a patent for it.”
She looks appropriately fascinated, which fuels his disgust. A fucking patent for canine scuba equipment! Is she really that stupid?
“So, like, where did you make your money? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Don’t mind at all,” he says, having anticipated the question. It’s the one they can all be counted on to ask. Women are so transparent. Money and good looks—that’s all it takes to have them eating out of your hand. He laughs to himself—that part will come later. “I had a small business that I sold to a big company for an obscene amount of money, invested that money well and made even more, and presto, an entrepreneur is born.”
“Wow,” she says.
The word bangs against the side of his brain like an unpleasant echo, and he takes a deep breath, suppressing the urge to throttle Lulu to death in front of all these people. “How about we discuss it over dinner?”
“Dinner?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. And I know a great place where we can go and really get to know each other. Plus, the chef is a great friend of mine.”
“Really? What place is that?”
“My place,” he says with his most charming smile yet, the one that generally overwhelms even the worst skeptics.
“Your place?” A quiver of hesitancy registers on her face.
He feigns embarrassment. “At the risk of sounding a little presumptuous…”
Lulu cocks her head to one side, emphasizing her double chin, and waits for him to continue.
“I actually went out this afternoon and bought a couple of steaks. Not that I was taking anything for granted. Just that I was so smitten with your photo. And you’ve turned out even better than I’d hoped…” He almost gags. “We can go somewhere else, if you’d prefer. Somewhere more public.”
