AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No.” Daniel’s frown returns. “Is that a new dress?”
I strike a pose. “Clearance rack. Fifty-nine, ninety-nine.”
“Money well spent,” I hear behind me.
My heart jumps. I’d know that voice anywhere. I spin around and face Nate Owen, who seems to have a penchant for sneaky entrances. He’s mouthwatering in a dark suit and a black tie with a subtle pattern. It could be the same Armani he wore the day I met him, or perhaps it’s a different one. I imagine his billionaire’s closet holds a slew of expensive suits.
“Owen,” Daniel says, his back straightening.
Nate dips his head in silent acknowledgement.
Daniel’s eyes shift from Nate to me. “I’m going to grab a drink and say my goodbyes. Vivian, feel free to leave whenever you’re done here.” He pauses before walking away. “But since it’s time and a half, no longer than another hour.”
He hustles off, moving his arms like they’re propelling him.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, then,” Nate says.
“Are you still here?” I swallow the last of my sparkling water and place the empty on a tray of discarded glassware. My heart races, the attraction between us ratcheting up now that he’s standing next to me. I remind myself entanglements with anyone are a bad idea, and with Nate, possibly the worst idea of all, but I make no effort to move away from him.
His mouth pulls into an entirely too attractive half smile. “Let’s find you a real drink. This crowd can take care of itself.”
He offers an arm. I hesitate momentarily before I slip my hand over his jacket sleeve.
“How much did you pay Daniel to sign off on your permit, again?” I ask, desperate to steer us back to choppier waters.
“I didn’t bribe him,” he says, sticking to the same story. “Owen Construction made a generous donation to a cause he cares about.”
“Daniel cares about something?”
“Every man has their price.”
We walk along the fancy parquet flooring, overhead lighting reflecting on the shiny surface. The cream and black and gold pattern is 3D and almost dizzying if I watch my feet. I avert my attention to the art on the wall. Paintings of men and angels and naked women and dragons line these halls.
At the bar, Nate orders a bourbon, neat. “Vivian?”
“Dirty martini, vodka.” I don’t miss the subtle cringe from Nate. “What’s wrong?”
“Olives.” His big shoulders shudder, and I can’t help laughing.
“I promise not to kiss you later.” I don’t know why I said it, but when he gives me his undivided attention, I’m glad I did.
I’m not the only woman in the room who’s noticed him. Tall, fit, well-dressed. He stands out. The backdrop of sullen paintings and rich folks falls away. There is only Nate. Only me.
This is why I looked forward to seeing him. It’s been a long time since being under someone’s attentive gaze has felt this welcome. We have this… Is connection the wrong word?
The bartender hands over our drinks and Nate tucks a large bill into the tip jar. My glass is so full I have to take a sip to avoid spilling it on my toes.
“I was hoping you’d be here,” Nate tells me, proving he’s more comfortable with transparency than I am. We stop in front of a painting and pretend to study it. Or, well, I’m pretending. Maybe he’s contemplating the meaning behind the woman standing on her porch looking out at a desolate field.
“Didn’t have your fill of me at dinner?” I like flirting with him. I tell myself it’s harmless.
“No.”
That one word carves a path of longing into my chest. I’ve felt unwanted for a while. Or wanted for the wrong reasons. For a magazine interview. For a ghost-written autobiography. For a consultation on the movie based on Walter Steele they’re peddling around Hollywood right about now.
Suddenly warm, I take a gulp from my glass and change the subject. “How can you not like olives? They’re so…briny.”
“You said it.” He makes a face that makes him look a lot younger. Like, thirteen.
