Maggie frowned at the thought of Drew. The next day was the third Monday of the month, when they usually met for their monthly discussion on her investments, but she had not heard from him all weekend. She tugged her smartphone from her handbag, but Drew had neither called nor sent her a text.
The message light on her home phone, however, was flashing. Odd. Drew always reached her on her mobile. Maggie called her answering service and smiled when she heard Drew’s familiar voice. “I have some investment ideas for you, but I know you’re busy. Let me know if you still want to meet tomorrow.”
She called him back immediately. It bothered her, just a little, that he sounded surprised to hear from her. “I still want to meet tomorrow,” she said immediately. “Same time, same place?”
“Sure.”
“So, what are these ideas you have for me?”
“Ways to make your money work harder for you—passive and active partnerships in various fashion ventures.”
She leaned against the wall. “You want me to own my brand?”
“You already own your brand, and you can leverage it the way many models have done by launching your own line of fashion or cosmetics.”
“But I don’t know how to run a business.”
“You learn, and you take on partners and employees you can trust.
I trust you. “But won’t it take a while?”
Drew sighed. “Anything worthwhile usually takes a while. After our last conversation, I thought you wanted a stronger guarantee of future income. Well, this is one way to do it.”
Maggie giggled. “You didn’t like my alimony retirement plan?”
Drew responded with silence—a silence that managed to make Maggie feel like a bitch and a fool for baiting him. Tyler would have had a witty comeback. Heck, just about everyone else she had ever dated would have known how to respond with humor. But not Drew.
She decided to hang up before she said something else stupid. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” A passing thought pricked her. “Drew, wait.”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you call me on my cell phone?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”
Maggie inhaled sharply and bit down on her lower lip. “You knew?”
“Anyone with a Twitter feed knew. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 6
Maggie was already waiting at their usual table outside the Green Café when the elevator doors opened and Drew walked out. His messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and in his other hand, he held a brown paper bag. Maggie smiled. Relief flooded her like a tsunami washing over the beach. Drew wasn’t angry with her; how could he be when he had brought her roast pork buns?
The rational part of her wanted to smack the giddy part of her. Was she really using the frequency and quantity of “roast pork buns” as the gauge for her friendship with Drew? She peeked into the bag he held out to her. Six, as usual, and still warm. She drew in a deep breath, sucking the aromatic fragrance into her lungs.
Out of habitual politeness, she offered him one. He refused, as he always did.
Good start, Maggie thought as he took his seat across from her. The familiarity of their encounter soothed the nervous jitters in her stomach.
“You look tired.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Actually, he looked a great deal more than tired. The tense set of his mouth and the way he flicked his gaze away after meeting her eyes—as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at her for any longer than a few seconds at a time. Oh, God. Maggie pressed her hands against her stomach. He’s angry with me.
“I had a busy weekend,” he said. His tone was steady.
“Did you and Felicity go anywhere special?”
“No, not really.” He set his computer notebook on the table. “Are you ready to discuss the investment ideas?”
She stared at him. “You don’t do small talk, do you?”
“I don’t have anything small to talk about.” His gaze flicked away again. “I know you’re busy. I am, too, and we’ve got a lot to cover.”
“Why are you mad at me?” No, no. She had wanted the words to come out stronger, but even to her ears, she had sounded like a whining child. She supposed there wasn’t much difference, sound-wise, between a whining child and a woman on the verge of tears. Unshed tears from the shocking awareness that she had disappointed him, or worse, broken his heart, lay heavy against her chest.
Drew stared at her. “I’m not angry.” He looked away. “Not at you. Can we just—” He angled his computer screen toward her. “—talk about this?”
“Is it because I went out with Tyler?”
A muscle twitched in his smooth cheek. “No.”
Yes. “It didn’t mean anything,” she hastened to explain.
“Look, Maggie, you don’t have to justify your dates to me. I’m just your financial advisor.”
“I thought you were my friend.”
His dark eyes locked on her. The intensity in them scalded her. “Don’t make this difficult.” His voice was harsh.
Her chin tilted up. “Make what difficult?”
“You know—”
“I don’t know anything. You don’t tell me anything, but you growl at me like a bad-tempered pit bull and act as if I’m supposed to read your mind.”
He slammed down the computer screen. “I’ll e-mail the files to you. We can talk next month.”
She stood and grabbed his hand before he could walk away. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my dates with Tyler?”
He stopped as if she had punched him in the gut. Pain rippled over his face. Maggie expelled a shuddering breath. Oh, God. If only she could take the words back.
“No need to,” Drew spoke after a long, silent moment. His voice was even. “It’s all over every social media channel. Even mainstream media picked it up.”
“Only because he’s a normal person. I swear, it didn’t mean anything, Drew.”
“I told you; it’s not my business.”
“That’s what you say, but I’m getting an entirely different message from the way you act. What is it, Drew? Do you want me or not?” Oh, damn. Maggie pressed her hand to her lips. That last question had popped, completely uncensored, out of her mouth. It had to have come from a perverse desire to get a reaction—any reaction—out of Drew.
She watched the play of expressions across his face, too quick and too subtle to decipher. He inhaled deeply. His hands clenched into fists and then slowly relaxed as he exhaled. “I’ll see you next month.” He pulled out of her grip and strode away.
“I hate the way you walk away from me.” Like you’re leaving me and never coming back. Her mouth twisted into a sneer. Deliberately crude, she said, “I want to know what crawled up your ass and died.”
He spun around to face her. “I don’t want to argue.”
“News flash, hotshot. We’re already arguing.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “You…this friendship matters to me. I’m not going to let you provoke me into walking away.”
“Walking away? What the hell do you think you are doing now if not walking away?”
“I…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m giving us space so I don’t say something I’ll regret.”
Too late. I’ve already said things I regret. Maggie scowled. She had already put her foot into a tense and crumbling situation. She might as well go all the way. “Do you want me or not?”
He hesitated long enough for her to wonder what his answer might have been if he had answered impulsively. Moments passed in silence until he turned his back on her. “Goodbye, Maggie.”
“That wasn’t an answer, damn it.” Or was it? “I’m going out with Tyler again,” she shouted at Drew’s back. “I’m falling in love with him, and if he asks me to marry him, I’ll start planning a wedding.”
Drew did not turn around. He did not even stop. He did, however, fling out two words in parting. “Bud
get it.”
Chapter 7
Budget it?
Maggie sulked over Drew’s dismissive attitude all week. Her mood had not substantially improved by the time the weekend rolled around, so she called Tyler and left a message, cancelling their date that evening.
It left her the rest of the evening to wallow in a justified sulk. The nerve of Drew. How dare he tell her to “budget it?” How dare he treat her like an irresponsible credit card wielding teenager? Just because she didn’t take an active interest in her investments didn’t mean she didn’t understand the fundamentals of financial management. She even knew the password for her checking account.
Maggie’s brow furrowed with a frown. Maybe.
Actually, she didn’t. It had been months, perhaps even years, since she had last accessed her accounts.
She could ask Drew, of course, since he had access to all her accounts, managed all her money, and paid all her bills, but it would be too much like admitting that he was right. If she triggered a lost password reset, Drew would most certainly know that she had forgotten. She wasn’t going to give him that victory.
The password was an acronym for a phrase; she knew that much. Chewing on her lower lip, Maggie tested a few variations before stumbling on the right one. IlDmta1.
I love Drew more than anyone.
Not anymore, the stupid jerk. It was a good thing she hadn’t actually told him what those letters stood for.
Maggie clicked on the consolidated view of her accounts. Her jaw dropped. Where had all that money come from?
Her account had been pitifully empty five years earlier when she arrived in New York City to attend Parsons. Her father, however, had paid for college and given her a generous allowance. She had also taken on part-time modeling jobs. After she graduated from college, she signed on with Armani. Modeling provided her with a solid six-figure salary, but her expenses were also astronomical, including a three-bedroom condo on the Upper East Side and sexy new dresses each time she met with Drew. Shoes too. And the occasional necklace. And the—
How her excessive spending translated into a net worth in excess of a million dollars, she didn’t know. She hadn’t bothered to track her money; Drew had taken care of everything. Frowning, Maggie dug into her most recent bank statement, noting her incoming salary and the generous outgoing payments to American Express, Visa, and MasterCard. Twenty percent also came off the top; Maggie tracked that amount to her investment portfolio.
That pattern repeated itself as Maggie scanned through older bank statements. From the moment Drew had taken over the management of her financial accounts five years earlier, he had yanked twenty percent of her allowances, salaries, and—her eyes widened—a hundred percent of her bonuses out into her investment accounts. There, carefully managed and fueled, in part, by a bull market, the modest sums had burgeoned into over a million dollars.
It was not enough to retire, but within a few years, if she kept earning and if Drew kept investing, it would be.
Drew’s voice replayed in her mind. I’m managing your money, growing your wealth, planning your retirement, so you don’t have to marry for money, so you don’t have to depend on anyone but yourself, ever.
Right, Maggie scowled. I don’t have to depend on anyone ever, except Drew.
Somehow, the realization did not make her as sulky as she thought she ought to have been feeling.
Her doorbell buzzed. Maggie went to the door and looked out through the peephole. She stifled a sigh as she swung open the door. “Tyler, what are you doing here?”
He spread his arms and managed an exaggerated expression of broken-hearted sorrow. “You bailed on me.”
“I’m bailing on polite society tonight.”
He eyed her faded denim jeans and shapeless gray sweater. “So I see.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t come to check on me. Did you really think I would cancel on you to go out with someone else?”
“Rumor has it you’ve been a little short-tempered all week.”
“Really?” That’s because my financial advisor is treating me like a thirteen-year-old who can’t even spell B-U-D-G-E-T.
“I know just the thing to get you over your funk.”
You know how to get Drew out of my system? Good luck. He’s been in there for ten years. He can’t even get himself out, not even when he’s acting like a jerk. That time, Maggie did not bother to stifle her sigh. “I’m not really in the mood to get mobbed, Tyler.”
“Hey, I get that you don’t want to see and be seen, so why don’t you come over to my place? It’s on the other side of the park, just a ten-minute walk. I’ve got a great wine chilling, artisan cheese, and crackers. Chocolate too.”
Maggie peeked at him through her long eyelashes. “Chocolate? Dark?”
“Milk. But if you come with me, I’ll pick up some dark chocolate on the way back to my place.”
“I don’t know. I’m not really good company right now.”
“All the more reason to cop a change of scene. Come on, Marguerite.”
She stared at his handsome face. Why did Tyler have to be the wonderful, agreeable man in her life? Would it really kill Drew to be as warm and engaging? Maggie smiled. “Sure. Why not?” She grabbed a baseball cap, slid her feet into sneakers, and followed Tyler back to his place.
Fifteen minutes later, they were ensconced on his couch with two glasses of white wine, a box of dark chocolates, and a platter of cheese and crackers.
“So, do you want to watch a movie?” Tyler asked.
“No, not really.”
“Music?” Tyler pressed on a remote control and a melancholic jazz tune filled the room.
Maggie’s response was a non-committal huff.
Tyler slid an arm across the back of her shoulders. “What’s got my lovely in a knot?”
Maggie pulled back to stare at him. “First, I’m not ‘your lovely.’ Second, I’m not in a knot.”
“Oh?” Tyler smiled. “So you won’t mind if I kiss you, will you?”
A kiss? Maggie flicked aside the image of Drew’s unsmiling face. Drew had no right to her mental and emotional real estate if he did not intend to claim physical real estate too. The vision of Drew refused to stay away though. His dark eyes focused on her; his silence condemned her.
Oh, go to hell, she snapped at Drew, and when Tyler’s lips hovered over hers, she welcomed his kiss with her eyes closed. Physically, Tyler was enough like Drew—both six feet two, both leanly muscular with a triathlete’s build—that she could lose herself in the interplay between fantasy and reality.
He leaned against her, his weight pushing her down into the cushions. His hands caressed the length of her body, his touch firm, yet gentle. She arched her back and raised her arms when he tugged her sweater up and over her head. The soft cotton brushed against her skin. Moments later, his warm hands traveled along the same path to cup her bare breasts.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
His voice jarred her momentarily, but the soft jazz in the background washed over it and dragged her back into her dreamlike state. She did not resist when he unzipped her jeans and eased it down her legs. Her silk panties followed, and when he pushed at her feet, she willingly spread her long legs for him.
His weight shifted, and his warm breath fanned the liquid heat between her legs. Her fingernails dug into the cushions as his wicked, clever tongue probed and teased. She arched, pushing against his mouth, demanding more. The intensity layered, each surge of tingling pleasure pushing her closer to release.
Her orgasm, when it came, trembled through her body. She clutched his head, her fingers wrapped in his hair as she breathed his name like a prayer. Delightful little aftershocks shivered through her, slowly easing her down from her sexual high. She remained blissfully relaxed until Tyler’s voice asked, “Who’s Drew?”
Damn it. She scooted back on the couch and reached for her discarded clothes. Turning her back on Tyler, she dressed as quickly as she
could with trembling fingers.
“Who’s Drew?” Tyler asked again, his voice cool.
“No one important.”
“Obviously important enough for you to call out his name when I gave you an orgasm.” Anger ran like an undercurrent through his voice. “Is he someone famous?”
“He’s nobody important.”
“Don’t you think I deserve some kind of explanation?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Maggie turned to face Tyler. “We’ve been out on two dates. It doesn’t give you a claim on me any more than it gives me a claim on you.”
“Claim? This isn’t a claim. It’s courtesy.” His cold voice contrasted with the fury in his eyes. He followed her to the door. “I want to know who he is.”
“Why? So you can ask all your followers to flood his social media accounts with hate mail? I don’t think so. This isn’t about him.”
“You’re protecting him?” Tyler shook his head. “I’m getting the impression this isn’t about me. It’s about you and him. I’m just the idiot who got in the way.”
“There is no me and him.” Maggie stepped into her sneakers and walked out of his apartment. “Goodbye, Tyler.”
His stare burned into her back until the elevator doors closed behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears welled up in her throat. Tyler was right. He was an innocent victim in the tangled mess she had created out of her imaginary relationship with Drew. The fault, she knew, was entirely her own. Drew had promised her nothing, but she had wanted more than she could have.
All she wanted was Drew. How could it possibly be too much to ask for?
Chapter 8
Drew awoke to the familiar and annoyed buzz of his smartphone. He groaned as he rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hands. The Google search on Marguerite Ferrara had been silent for a few days, although it was too much to hope that Maggie could stay out of the spotlight indefinitely. Why she chose to land up in the news on Saturday and trigger the Google search on the one day when he could actually sleep in was his lousy luck mocking him.
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