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She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was he really this clueless? “To date,” she said. “It’s a respectable amount of time to date. Not for an engagement. Especially if we’re both people who come from money.”
His frown deepened. “What does money have to do--?”
“We don’t have to save up or start a GoFundMe or anything. Money’s no object, so…six months. Tops. That gives us enough time to set the date, send the invitations, book the hall, get the dress and the tux… If our engagement is set for eleven months, people are going to think that there’s something wrong with one of us.”
He stiffened. “That might actually be the case,” he said. “I was married before.”
She raised her eyebrows with surprise, then as she thought about it, it wasn’t all that surprising at all. She smirked as she took another drink from her glass. “Of course you were.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She sighed. “How do I put this delicately? You’re older than I am and if I were to guess, I’d say the age gap is pretty significant, right? How old are you anyway?”
“I believe that’s on page one.”
She rolled her eyes and flipped through the pages to the demographics sheet on the first page. She ran a single elegant finger over each line until she smirked. “Forty-five. Yeah, that’s a noticeable difference.”
“So, because I’m older than you, then, of course, I was married before.” She could hear that he was beginning to get pissed at her tone, but he was trying to hang in there. She sat up and looked at him with her sparkling blue eyes.
“You can be taught,” she said, taunting him. “Good.”
“Funny,” he said with a snarky tone.
Stella sighed and decided to back off him. This was hard enough as it was for both of them. “That’s not what I think,” she said calmly, “but it is what everyone else is going to expect. And it’s something I need to be aware of.”
He scowled and got up to refresh his own drink. “You seem to know an awful lot about how people think,” he said as he selected the scotch from his collection on the drink tray. “I should have hired you for my research team. Maybe this information would be more useful to you, then.”
He sounded pretty pissed. Stella surmised that he probably wasn’t used to someone talking to him the way she was. She imagined that he planning on showing her the binder with the intention of her using the information inside, not criticizing him for having it.
“Listen,” she said, “you’re the one that needs this to work, okay? Don’t be so pissy about all this.”
“Pissy?” he squawked.
“Yes, pissy. Look, Richard, I’m not trying to sabotage this or anything. I’m just trying to help you.”
He turned around and she saw his eyes drift to her bare legs. They were crossed, making her dress hike up so her thighs were showing. He looked away quickly, taking a drink from his glass. “All right. Then what do you suggest we add?”
“Well,” she said. “I think it’s got a good start with the demographics. So, let’s start there.”
“All right.”
“How old am I?”
He paused, narrowing his eyes at her. “That’s not relevant. No one is going to ask that.”
She laughed. “You really think that no one’s going to look at the two of us and inquire about my age?”
He snorted. “I’m not a fool. Of course, they’ll ask. But it’s rude to ask such a thing about a woman, so no one will expect an answer.”
She swished her glass around for a moment, the ice clinking in the glass. “Touche,” she said. “All right. Turn around.”
He sighed. “What for?”
“Just humor me.”
He turned around and she asked, “What color are my eyes?”
He turned his head slightly, so she could see his profile. He was smiling slightly. He took a drink to conceal it. “Sapphire blue.”
