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Lenny was going to crap her pants laughing. Fin danced around her apartment making Scungy hiss and spit. Maybe she could make something of this pub performance thing.
“Better than sex,” she said to the couch, under which Scungy had taken up residence. But maybe not better than sex with a man who promised so much then left you with a hotel room. Sex with Cal Sherwood had the makings of being amazing, until he did a runner, if only because of the way the tension between them had fizzed like a shaken cola.
Cal’s
card was stuck to the refrigerator. Fin bopped across the scarred kitchen tiles to check it out again. It looked like money: thick, white card stock; modern, spare design; an official-looking crest; and sensible black type. His office had a swanky Sixth Avenue address. Why would he promise to help with her pitch?
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
Cal could forget he’d ever met her. He could blow her off in a way that made her feel stupid and insignificant.
She opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. An out-of-date yogurt was the best thing going. She closed the door. There was nothing to eat because she’d been lazy. There were women trying to raise kids in situations that were unsafe and living hand-to-mouth with little hope of their lives improving who had more initiative and courage than she did.
“Not negotiable.”
She had no option but to call Cal’s office and face whatever hold music was playing until he proved to be a one-night mirage and a total letdown. And after that, she’d come up with a new plan and keep doing that until it was second nature and she became a problem-solving ninja who never flaked out.
When she made the call, she was forced to listen to some Adele wannabe warbling for so long she was about give up, but then she heard her name in Cal’s smooth, dirty-thought-inspiring voice. “Fin. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
Cal Sherwood was a man who seemed worth waiting for, but she wasn’t telling him that. She sang a line from the horrible hold music to mess with him.
“I know it’s you, Fin. You were my call waiting on line two.”
“You have more than one call waiting?” None of this was in her phone-Cal-Sherwood script, but he had a way of throwing her off track and making her like it.
“Frequently. I’m a big shot, didn’t you know?”
“But you do remember me.” It was physically difficult to get those words out because she was smiling so hard.
“You’re the groomer calling to tell me Fido is ready to collect. No, wait, I know this one, you’re from the clinic, and I’m not pregnant.”
Oh, he could be so freaking wry. “You have a dog?”
“No, Fin. No dog.”
“I’d like to see you.” Ergh, that came out wrong. “I mean, I’d like to see you, but I’d like to see what you can do for me.” Christ on a cracker. “You know what I mean.”
He laughed, and he might as well have goosed her. “I’m not sure I do. Most fun I’ve had all day.”
“Don’t like Mondays?”
“This particular one has been a challenge.”
“Wanna run away with me?” Oh shit. If she couldn’t stick to her script, she had to up her phone flirting game.
His sigh had the weight of a skyscraper tower made of dumpsters. It sagged and wobbled and would surely topple and spill foulness everywhere. “I would love to run away with you, but I have responsibilities and so do you.”
And apparently, trouble remembering that. “I would like to see you. You said you’d help me with my pitch for Dollars for Daughters. Was that just to get me into the bed you never bothered with?”
“Yes, it was exactly that.”
She laughed. She’d flirted herself into a knot. Something about Cal, even on the phone, made her feel delighted and dizzy. “So, will you?”
“Get into bed with you?” She sucked in a breath and held it. Was he going there on the phone? This was almost phone sex with a VC. “No, Fin, there are no shared beds in our future if you want me to help with your charity.”
Oh hell. There were times when exclusivity was the perfect choice. Like when your partner slept with you exclusively instead of you and his new fiancée at the same time, meaning you had to have every sexual health check there was. And then there was the exclusivity that was making you pick between a fast-and-furious fling with an intriguing, sexy man or the help you needed to be less of a flake and do some good in the world.
“You’re making me choose?”
