What was with him?
‘Apparently, Felix turned up at her door last night, begging for her to take him back. Saying he was a changed man.’
‘That’s bullshit. He’ll be out looking for fresh blood the minute he gets his confidence back.’
‘Well, for someone who is a complete amateur, you seem to be doing a remarkable job.’ He told her there was $22,500 waiting for her at the office.
This was all said in a bland monotone, as if he was simply going through the motions. Rosie thought she might suggest he take something to pep him up. Vitamin B, at the very least.
‘Why don’t we wait until you can take me out for a coffee, give it to me then?’ Rosie had said before she could stop herself.
Alex remained quiet.
‘So, now it’s back to Cliff Askie,’ Rosie finally said, to end the awkward silence.
‘You’re confident you can get him to marry you.’
‘He thinks I am a recovering sex addict, Alex. The only way he gets to shag me is to marry me. I only hope Georgia doesn’t call it off like Julia. It would be a shame not to be able to invite my friend Scarlet over for the fake wedding.’
Every bride needed a bridesmaid, after all.
‘I can assure you, Georgia Kettle wants blood. She’s already dating somebody else, this is strictly about revenge for her now.’
That wasn’t the impression Rosie had got when they’d first met Georgia, but what did she care? Even if the wedding was called off, she could afford to pay for a little holiday for Scarlet, what with the bonus from the Hastings’ job.
‘Okay, then. I’m seeing him later today.’
‘Where?’
‘Russian Tea Rooms.’
‘Your suggestion?’
‘His, actually. Went there as a kid, fond memories. Apparently.’
‘Well, enjoy. And good luck.’
The booth at the Russian Tea Rooms was perfect for a proposal – and by the look on Cliff’s face – and the bulge in his jacket pocket – Rosie was satisfied her sad story of sexual addiction had hit the mark.
Plus, she loved the food there – it was quintessential New York.
‘How are you feeling after that horrible fool’s accusations, Rosie?’ Cliff was all concern.
‘Better. It’s so difficult to get over a problem like mine, Mr Askie, when people keep throwing it up in my face.’ Rosie administered a doe-eyed glance at the billionaire.
‘My dear, call me Cliff, please.’ He placed his hand over hers.
‘I don’t want to lead you on, Cliff. I am so attracted to you though. Perhaps you will wait for me.’ Given the massive stiffy Rosie could see in his trousers, she wasn’t sure he could wait until the end of lunch.
‘I think I might have a solution to our problem, Rosie.’
‘Really?’ God, her eye muscles were beginning to object to being so widely stretched.
Suddenly, he was out of the booth and bending down. The entire restaurant stopped talking and looked over – no one had failed to notice the drop-dead gorgeous blonde and the billionaire.
‘Rosie, will you marry me?’
Wanting to laugh in his face at the boring, boring, predictability of his actions, she forced a serious but excited expression onto her perfect features.
‘Really? You want to marry me? After all you know about me?’
The most stunning girl he’d ever met, and a sex addict to boot. He’d have to be a homosexual monk not to want to marry her!’
‘Of course, my dear. And I think we should do it–’ he began coughing and Rosie eventually thumped him on the back – ‘as soon as possible. Next week, if I can get The Plaza. I’d have to cancel an important trip to Australia, but, for you, anything is possible.’
The Plaza! God, that was hilarious. Georgia would love it. He’d have to pay a fortune to bump another wedding party at such short notice.
And all because he can’t wait to fuck a sex addict.
‘So what do you say?’ Cliff’s watery eyes were even mistier with anticipation. He was holding a ring up now – it was huge. She could buy a flat on the Upper East Side with that thing. Shame it would have to go back. No point in getting sued, was there?
‘I say yes, of course.’ And she swung her arms around the billionaire and squeezed tight.
As Cliff went for a surreptitious grope of a tit, Rosie checked her watch over his back. Maybe she should call Alex, and insist on coffee.
Tell him he gets no further information on her progress unless it’s face to face.
Absolutely, Rosie. That didn’t sound needy at all.
What the fuck was wrong with her?
‘So,’ Cliff said, finally letting her go and handing her the ring. ‘Shall we drive up the road and see if The Plaza can accommodate us?’
‘We can have a small wedding, you know?’ Rosie said. Even though the retribution aspect was attractive, Rosie felt her nerve slipping slightly as reality sunk in. Rich men didn’t do anything by halves, did they? All of New York was going to know about this.
‘Nothing but the best for you, Rosie. Invite who you want, charge it to me. I’ll give you the name of my accountant, she’ll handle everything. Get a dress designer, anyone you want, get your family over here. This is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime event.’
‘Okay, if you say so.’ Rosie allowed herself to be led off to The Plaza to observe the spectacle of Cliff bumping a mid-western farmer with compensation of a quarter of million dollars and the exclusive use of his place at Martha’s Vineyard. ‘Airfares included,’ he promised the father of the bride on the phone, winking cheerfully at Rosie.
Shit. This revenge date is going to cost this guy a fortune. Rosie felt another twinge of guilt. Felix was far easier – all he wanted was a fuck or two. This one was in it for life. It made her very uncomfortable.
Never mind. She’d discuss it with Alex later. Confirm that Georgia was completely sure that this is what she wanted.
Surprisingly, Alex agreed to after-dinner espresso at some little dive near his office, and Rosie hopped a taxi, quickly dialing Scarlet with scant regard for the time in London, so that the drooling driver wouldn’t start up a conversation.
‘I’m getting married.’
‘Is this a real marriage or that fake one.’
‘Fake one, of course.’
But why did Alex’s image pop into her mind when she thought of marriage?
‘Rosie, is this wise?’
Given she was having her own doubts, Rosie thought it best to change the subject.
‘There is someone I am interested in, though.’
Scarlet let out a low whistle. ‘Are you kidding? You’ve never said that to me. We’ll you have, but only when you are taking about sex. You’re not, are you?’
‘Nope.’
‘Christ, not the Mayor of New York or something?’
‘No, no one like that. A nobody. It’s my boss, Alex Clunes. He doesn’t have any money, works as a private investigator. And get this. I don’t think he actually likes me.’
‘What, in that way? Is he gay?’
‘No, he’s been married, but I don’t think he likes me in any way. I am just an employee to him.’
‘Shit, that’s a shame, Rosie.’
Rosie agreed that it bloody well was.
‘Nevertheless, I am not giving up, Scar. I mean, he’s got to feel something. He is a heterosexual man.’
‘I hate myself for having to say this, Rosie, but maybe, you just aren’t his type.’
‘Come on,’ Rosie replied. ‘What are the odds that of all the men I have ever met, he is the only one not to have the hots for me?’
‘Impossible odds have been known to win out, Rosie.’
‘Perhaps, but I haven’t actually made a move yet. He might just be shy.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Listen, I am meeting him now, but book those flights, okay. It’s on me.’
And her friend, after agreeing to fly out for the fake w
edding, wished her the best.
‘You might need it,’ she warned. ‘Don’t get hurt.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE CAFÉ WAS MORE OF A dive than she’d expected, and Rosie felt decidedly overdressed, in her tight, short-sleeved Lauren jumper and dark denim mini; the outfit finished off with high polished brown leather boots. Her hair hung from its usual side part, freshly washed but otherwise left alone.
The owner, a stubby little guy with studs covering his face and a tattoo on the back of his bald head, nodded with appreciation at the sight of her.
‘Very, very¸ nice,’ he leered, as she sat as far away from the counter as possible.
Luckily for him, Alex arrived before Rosie had the chance to call him on his sexist ogling.
‘Hi,’ he said, throwing an envelope down on the table. ‘It’s a bank check, you might use it to start a U.S. account. There are some you can draw down on from London too. Citibank, I think.’
All business, as usual. Rosie couldn’t figure him out.
‘I’m supposed to marry Cliff Askie next week at The Plaza.’
Alex’s left eyebrow shot up. ‘Wow, that was quick.’
‘He wants a shag. Desperate for it.’
‘Hmm.’ Alex didn’t respond. What was with him.
‘Alex, can I ask you something?’
His incredible blue grey eyes looked up from the notepad he was scribbling in. ‘Yes?’
‘Aren’t you attracted to me?’
She noticed, with satisfaction, a small blush at the base of his neck.
‘We are employees. I told you when I met you I wasn’t after anything like that.’
‘I know. But you see, maybe now I am.’
Wow, she had never actually come on to a guy first. Ever! Rosie’s heart was thumping so quickly she feared she might need urgent medical attention.
Come on, say something.
Anything.
Please.
Then, finally, he replied.
And it was the reply she had hoped for.
‘Well, it that was the case, I wouldn’t say no.’
Okay, sort of the reply she’d hoped for. A little lacking in enthusiasm, but it wasn’t a no.
‘So,’ she moved herself a little closer. What was she doing? This was man’s work, not hers! ‘What happens now?’
He stared at her for a moment, the gaze so intense that Rosie’s insides were jumping to a beat along with her heart.
Come on, Alex, she willed. Do something!
Then Alex’s lips were on hers, and the feeling was like nothing else. Increasing in intensity, Rosie didn’t want the kiss to stop and neither, it seemed, did he.
Ten minutes later they came up for air.
‘My God,’ he whispered, running his hands through her hair. ‘I never imagined it would be like that.’
He didn’t look bloody happy about it.
‘What’s wrong? Does crap kissing excite you more?’ Given the huge bulge in his trousers, she doubted it.
Then his lips were back in place. ‘What to you think?’ he murmured.
‘Let’s go back to my room,’ Rosie suggested, her entire insides churning with want. She had never, ever, craved a man so much in her life. Not even sexy Pierre. And he was French!
Still looking preoccupied, Alex nodded. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’
Moments later they were liplocked again in the back of a taxi, and when they stumbled into Rosie’s hotel 30 minutes later (bloody Manhattan traffic), Rosie couldn’t even be bothered looking towards the reception desk. She was in no doubt the perky brunette thought she was a huge slut, and at that point, she didn’t care.
Upstairs they didn’t bother taking their clothes off; didn’t bother moving into the room. Standing with her back to the door, Rosie yanked down his trousers, revealing the most delightful surprise – like the rest of him, his penis was perfect. Following her lead, he raised her miniskirt, and pulled her knickers aside, thrusting inside her with urgency.
‘Fucking hell, Rosie, I never thought it would be like this.’
‘Mmmm.’
Rosie was trying hard to make the moment last, so although she clocked he kept saying that, she didn’t pay much attention to it.
A moment later and they exploded together, and when their hearts stopped pumping so violently, they slid back down against the door, still connected.
Finally, he withdrew and kissed her again. ‘Okay?’
‘Mmmm.’
The kissing continued, and the passion grew and moments later, lying on the bed, he moved his head downwards, kissing her belly as he went. ‘Feel free to do the same,’ he smiled, indicating his own privates, and making a circle with his finger, as if she should swing about to accommodate both of them.
But I don’t do that.
Yet, for some reason, the stupid rules of the past didn’t apply.
For the first time, Rosie wanted to go down on him.
And even if he had facial hair, she’d let him do the same.
She moved into position and took him in her mouth, happy to hear his appreciative little groan.
All bets were off.
This time, Rosie Matchall was in love.
Alex fell asleep after the second time, but Rosie didn’t. She just lay there, happy to watch him, feasting her eyes on his amazing pecs, his incredible jawline, noting with relief that he didn’t snore.
The usual feeling she got after sex – the need to get the hell away as soon as possible – was totally absent.
It felt strange.
It felt like the beginning of something wonderful. The whole world seemed fresh, and everything seemed possible.
Was this what it was like, falling in love?
If it was, she felt sad that she’d never encountered it before.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, AND AFTER another vigorous session of lovemaking in the shower where Alex showed intimate knowledge of the inventive use of a showerhead, he finally left, promising that next time he would introduce her to the delights of a bath loofah and a little known position featured in the Karma Sutra.
‘When will that be?’ She ran a practised finger around his dimpled chin. ‘When am I going to see you again?’ Rosie couldn’t believe she was asking that. ‘Maybe Starbucks, around the corner, tonight?’ The staff there would no doubt make assumptions about the beautiful blonde who brought in a different (and often famous) man every other day, but she couldn’t care less.
Alex, however, didn’t appear that eager. ‘Er, I’m pretty busy this week, let’s play it by ear, okay?’
Rosie was about to object but Alex kissed her again, and again and again and finally she couldn’t think straight enough to question him about their next date.
Their goodbye kiss lasted about twenty minutes, and the moment he was gone, Rosie felt her guts retract, as if in withdrawal.
In the end, it seemed the Grey Virgin was right – if this was what sex was truly like, then she could definitely, absolutely become addicted.
Problem was, it had only ever happened with one guy.
Yes, she was addicted to one, single, solitary man.
And his name was Alex Clunes.
Over the next few days, Rosie tried again and again to meet up with Alex, but there was always an excuse. First, he had to fly to LA – he did have another office there so that was fair enough. Next, his mother became ill and a date had to be cancelled because he was driving up to New Hampshire to see her.
In the meantime, she was being run around New York by Cliff Askie’s overbearing sister Kelly – an obese woman with a crazy perm and a perpetual grin. Dress, veil, hair, nails, catering, flowers – the appointments were ongoing and boring in the extreme, and Rosie was so exhausted that the one time she agreed to see Cliff before the wedding, she’d actually fallen asleep in the opening monologue at an off Broadway show.
Despite her exhaustion, however, she couldn’t stop thinking about Alex. She needed him. Wanted him.
So, when she woke up the Friday before the Saturday wedding to Cliff, Rosie was determined not to let Alex slip through her fingers again.
God, those fingers! She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and what they had done to her, and with her.
It was blissful to be able to contemplate a future with a man, and it didn’t occur to her that he wouldn’t want the same thing.
Why wouldn’t he?
After all, she was Rosie Matchall. If superstars and billionaires couldn’t resist – how could he?
She got dressed (short, dusty pink cami dress, her French Sole flats and a grey loose knit cardigan) and hopped a cab to his office, in the hope of catching him off guard.
Suspecting that the reason he was avoiding her was that he didn’t want the press to find out Cliff Askie’s fiancée was two-timing him – that would mean that Georgia Kettle’s payment was as good as gone – Rosie decided a brief sojourn in that big leather chair in his office would be a perfect solution to both their problems.
But when she arrived, there was someone else in the office with him, a man in a suit, and Alex slammed his office door shut so quickly when he saw her that he almost shattered the opaque glass.
The Revenge Date/Ten Reasons to Say I Don't Bundle (Romantic Comedy) Page 10
