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This time, the smile she gave him reached her eyes, and her dimples appeared. For a moment, her expression lightened, and he felt an utterly unexpected jolt of arousal. He’d forgotten just how attractive she was. He remembered when she looked like this…and his mind filtered back over the last few months. Slowly, she had wilted, her unhappiness easy for him to discern now. Which was sad, considering he’d been engaged to her ten minutes ago. Cynthia deserved better than that. Hell, they both did.
“I’d like that, Max. I’d like that a lot.”
“I think the best thing to do is show a united front. If your father gives us any problems, I’ll handle it. I promise.”
Surviving the gossip would probably kill Cynthia, and the only way to avoid that was sticking together at the ending of their engagement. Truthfully, he couldn’t care less about it, but she would be mortified by the whispers. And, in the world of dating, it would make him more of a catch if a woman could gain his attention. In their small Georgia town, dating and marriage were a debutante’s favorite blood sport. He would be a trophy to fling in Cynthia’s face.
She left after many reassurances that he would handle everything and that he harbored no ill will. When she was gone, he motioned for the waiter and ordered two fingers of whiskey. Max never drank in the middle of the day, but he felt the need to celebrate. Cold, yes, but theirs had been more a wedding of two companies than of two people.
He took a sip of whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. It’d been a while since he’d enjoyed a drink without the irritation of other people.
As he downed the last drops, he motioned to the waiter for another one and knew Anna would approve.
* * *
Anna Dewinter staredat her almost ex-boyfriend and wondered why she’d started sleeping with him. Most women would jump at the chance and into his bed. That wavy black hair and his brooding blue eyes had many women comparing him to Heathcliff more than once in her presence. He did act the part of a tortured hero—when it suited his purposes. Like now as he stared at her as if his life depended on her attention. Lord knows it probably worked on the college girls he usually dated. Those little girls didn’t understand that his ego—not his life—depended on the attention.
She’d been attracted to him in the beginning. The sex had been…pretty good. His hands were quick and eager, and he had the most amazing mouth, which had worked wonders on her pussy. But, as an artist, Brad tended toward the dramatic. Everything was either a high or a low, nothing in between. Nothing, just level. It got old—fast.
Trying to ignore her frustration, Anna sipped her latte and glanced around her restaurant and coffee house,The Last Drop. The lunch crowd had dwindled, but several customers lingered.
Another good month or two…
If she kept it going, she could open that second location in Valdosta she was planning. With the college there, a storefront somewhere near the campus would clean up. She could even plan some weekend events, like maybe a few local performers or a poetry slam. The college groupies would pay a fortune for designer coffee and snacks, along with a few extras. She could take her business to the next level with today’s popular delivery apps. She would make a killing.
“Anna, are you paying attention to what I’m saying?”
Brad’s voice interrupted the thoughts of expanding her business. Guilt sent a wave of heat to her face, and Anna turned her attention back to him. His bottom lip drooped into a pout. Anna sighed. She liked him, but Brad took things a little too seriously. He was too young to be so serious. Besides, they’d had some fun, and now he wanted to complicate things. His eyes spoke of the pain he thought he felt. Which she knew he didn’t. Men his age—or about any age—didn’t get their feelings involved in a three-week affair.
Anna sighed again. He wasnotgoing to make this easy on her.
“Listen, Brad, we had a good time, but I thought we weren’t going to take each other seriously.”
“I took our relationship seriously, Anna. I can’t believe you’re dumping me.” His voice rose, and several customers sitting close to her table looked in their direction.
“You said you didn’t want to get serious. Your art was the only thing that mattered now.”
“Until I met you.” His voice spoke of his anguish. Again, she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. God save her from little boys pretending to feel.
She tried not to notice that more people were paying attention to them. An older couple kept glancing their way, the woman looking slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Anna had the best reputation in town because of her personal life. Still, it had never boiled over into her business. She’d be damned if it would now.
“You said that last week.”
He paused, then leaned forward and pronounced—with much conviction, “I’ve changed.”
No, what Brad meant was he thought he’d be the one to dump her. She had stolen his thunder, and if there was one thing Anna understood, it was men’s egos and how they could ruin a woman’s life. She’d been down that road before and wasn’t ready to take the trip again.
“It’s been fun, and we had a good time, but Brad, we’ve run our course.”
“Do you care so little for my feelings?” His voice cracked on the last word.
Oh, God. He sounded like he was going to cry. Never again. Never again would she tumble into bed with an artist. No matter how talented his hands were, how enthusiastic he was, or how much she needed a good fuck, they weren’t worth the trouble. A value pack of batteries was a better deal—and a lot less trouble.
“I care, Brad.”
And she did. She’d been drawn by his talent and his sense of humor, as well as his looks. And he was a wonderful man. But he didn’t want a long-term relationship any more than she did. He was young and scared to move on. It was her job to give him a little push.
Anna cleared her throat and tried her best to sound soothing and not irritated. “But you said you were thinking of moving to Athens at the end of the month. I think that will be good for you.”
