by Mika Lane
He turned to Brodie, “Sir? Would you like a second Macallan?”
I knew it.
He nodded and turned back to me. “So, Nara, I have to be honest with you. I was expecting a redhead.”
I couldn’t help but belt out a laugh. “Oh, right! My assistant got to the auction before I did and bid on my behalf. I was running late. In fact, I asked her to handle this date for me, but she wouldn’t have any part of it.”
Oh shit. Did I just say that?
He smiled. Or was that a smirk? “And why’d you do that? Try to get her to take the date for you?”
Ugh.
“Oh gosh, I didn’t mean any offense. It’s just that I’m so busy—”
“Do you have a boyfriend or something? A husband?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” I sputtered. Simon didn’t count. Did he?
“No?” Now I could really read his face, and it was definitely amused. Glad I could be entertaining.
I yammered on. “You know, I mean, I didn’t want to do this silly date thing. Who would? I’m happy to support the Avenue A homeless shelter, but Mrs. Dolan twisted my arm to bid on a date. I mean, who bids on a guy in a freaking auction?” Ugh. Stop talking. Now.
His mouth dropped open, but he snapped it shut just as quickly. Jesus, what was wrong with me? I sucked down my drink and waved the bartender over for another glass of bubbly. Anything to keep from talking.
Brodie nodded slowly as if some profound understanding had washed over him. Like he’d realized I’m a big, huge bitch.
Christ.
“Look, I’m sorry. That was rude. I don’t know why I said that.” My phone buzzed. Mimi! I texted her back.
b there soon just finishing up
I’d leave early. Who cared? I’d already done all the damage I could. And this was a big city. I’d never see the guy again.
But then there was the Page Six story. And possibly some free publicity for Mommy Knows. There were a lot of moms out there who were tired of sniffing their kid’s butt…
And he was damn handsome, in that chiseled, dark-eyed, Ralph Lauren model sort of way. But it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be seeing him after this one time. Although I did feel a little twinge in my core…
“So Mrs. Dolan strong armed you?” he asked.
“Yes, she did. Is that how she got you, too?” I was trying to keep my words to a minimum. No more verbal diarrhea if I could help it.
He sipped his scotch. “Oh yeah. I’ve known her a long time.”
“No kidding! She’s a little cutie, isn’t she? How do you know her?”
He looked down for a sec.
“Old family friend,” he said, looking back up. “How do you know her?”
“My company volunteers several times a year at the shelter. They invited me to a fundraising meeting, and I met her there.” I laughed. “She sank her claws into me pretty hard and hasn’t let go.”
The smile returned to his face. “She’s like that, isn’t she?” His phone vibrated on the bar, but he ignored it. “What kind of company do you work for?”
“A small tech firm called Mommy Knows.”
“Mommy Knows…I can’t say I know that one. What’s the product?” Of course, he didn’t know about it. He wasn’t a parent saddled with poopy diapers.
“We have a software app. It links to a mom’s—or dad’s—iPhone and lets them know when their kid has a dirty diaper. So instead of waiting for the baby to start crying, you know right away. You can even have babysitters use it.”
His eyes widened. Then he threw his head back and laughed. I couldn’t blame him. The concept always sounded absurd at first. But explain it to any parent of a kid in diapers, and there was immediate understanding. It was like lights turning on. One mom I had explained it to had actually gotten tears in her eyes.
“Wow. That’s quite a concept. What do you do there?”
“I’m the founder and CEO.”
His eyes widened again. I was familiar with this part…“You’re kidding!”
“Yup. I’m a software developer.” Here it comes…
“You’re a tech CEO. Wow! But you look so…”
“Yeah, I know.” I was wearing my usual black pencil skirt, silk blouse, and sky-high pumps. On the other hand, most of my staff usually looked like they’d just rolled out of bed.
“How’d you come up with the concept? Do you have kids?”
My hand flew to my chest in mock horror. “God, no! I’d seen other moms sniffing their kid’s diapers to see if they needed changing. I thought that was just gross, and I wanted to come up with a better solution.”
“So you’re a software developer.” I noticed him sitting up straighter in his seat.
“Yup. Sure am.” Mimi would be expecting me, but I couldn’t sneak a look at my watch. Too rude.
“What about you, Brodie? How’d you end up as one of Mrs. Dolan’s victims?”
“Mrs. Dolan used to do charity work with my dad.”
I nodded. “Well, that was a gorgeous hotel, wasn’t it?”
He nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, thank you.”
“What do you mean, thank you?” I asked.
“That was my hotel. Hotel Vertigo.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“No kidding! Great place.” It really had been quite beautiful. And elegant.
“Thanks,” he said, nodding. “It’s been in the family for a long time. My dad’s no longer involved, so I’m in charge now. We’re doing okay for ourselves.”
So he was a hotelier. That was no pretty boy job. He probably worked his ass off and did long hours, holidays, weekends. Well, well.
But still. Didn’t one have to be conceited to be auctioned for charity?
Just then, my phone chirped. It knew it was Mimi, letting me know it was time to excuse myself and go.
Only I wasn’t ready yet.
Chapter 8
Brodie
I’ll be damned. Nara, my auction date, wasn’t a desperate, lonely cat lady after all.
She was a freaking tech CEO. And she didn’t even bid on me—her damn redheaded assistant did. Here I was, bracing myself for another charity date, and I was met with this gorgeous woman in clothes possibly more expensive than mine, who was not the least bit impressed with me or anything about me.
Why did I feel like the joke was on me?
At least she liked my hotel. And I totally dug how she blurted out her true feelings about the auction. That was something.
She pulled her phone out and typed a quick message, then slipped it back into her bag.
“Sorry ’bout that. My assistant’s just checking in.” She turned her barstool toward me and crossed her long legs. I wish she’d go to the ladies’ room or something so I could really check her out. At such close range, my gaze could scarcely leave her face.
And what a face it was. Jesus. Bright blue eyes, black hair, and lips that curled into the most adorable, lopsided smile. A long-ish face that on anyone else might not have worked. But on her, it did. Beautifully.
If only all the women at those auctions were like her, I’d sign up for every damn one in town.
And she wanted to know more about my business. Not in an I want to know how much money you’re worth way, but an I’m interested in business sort of way.
It got my dick hard. Smart girls did something for me, no doubt. And it wasn’t that Manhattan wasn’t full of brilliant women—it absolutely was. It was just that I rarely met one who…I don’t know—didn’t give a shit.
“Since you took over the hotel from your dad, how have you changed it?” she asked.
I’d given her the Cliffs Notes version—I couldn’t tell her the whole story. It was too ugly, too complicated, and too personal.
“Well I got the investors to agree to remodel. Then we hired an agency that not only got us advertising in all the high-end, luxury magazines and blogs, but also got celebrities to stay with us. Once you get a few celebs, the rest flock to th
e hotel like flies, followed by the general public.”
“That’s cool. Maybe I should get some celebrity moms using my software app.”
“Or celebrity dads,” I suggested. That made her laugh, which was awesome, because I got to see that off-kilter smile again. I was tempted to tell her how much I liked it. But I wanted to play it cool.
“Oh yeah. Dads change diapers, too.” She held her hands up as if in surrender.
I might like her to surrender to me…
My phone buzzed. I grabbed for it and explained I needed to check in with my admin Trudy. Just like she’d done with her assistant.
Wait a minute. Was she beating me at my own game? Did she have her admin queued up to rescue her, in case I was a dud?
Nah. I was the shithead, not her. I texted Trudy back.
not ready to head out yet. give me 15
“So Nara, where are you from? Wait, my first question is, what kind of name is Nara?”
Damn, that smile was back. Crooked but wide with perfect straight teeth, and red lipstick. A real contrast to her pale skin.
“Nara is Irish for happy.”
Nice.
She scooted closer to hear me. The restaurant was getting noisy with the dinner rush. Forty-five minutes had clearly come and gone. “And I’m from nowheresville, Indiana.”
“I like that. Nowheresville.” Boy, did she smell good.
“Yup. Got out of town on a college scholarship and never looked back.”
“You still have family there? Friends?” I downed the last of my scotch. I was contemplating another, but once I got past two, I was committed to a night out. Possibly a very long night out. Maybe Miss Happy and her awesome smile would join me…
She shrugged. “Sort of. My mom is still there. My old friends are, too. I don’t really keep up with them.” She looked down the length of the bar, clearly somewhere else for a moment. I didn’t know where, but definitely not in a noisy restaurant in the busiest of American cities.
She continued, “My high school reunion is coming up. My mom’s bugging me to go.”
“And? Are you going?”
She shook her head. “Probably not. I mean, what am I going to do? Walk in there among all the people who never got to leave town and sit there and brag about having started a tech firm in New York City? I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She was modest. I liked that.
“Okay. I can see that. If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”
She gazed directly at me and seemed relieved I agreed with her. It was clear the pressure to return home was all over her. I never understood why women got all riled up about things like that. Why didn’t they just say no and be done with it? Seemed easy enough to me.
But then, I was an asshole.
She waved at the bartender for another round. Guess I wasn’t going back to work.
“So what about you?” she asked. “Where’d you grow up?”
“Right here in New York City.”
“No kidding! You have no accent,” she said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment. I went to boarding school in New Hampshire. That had a big impact.”
Damn, her blue eyes were killing me.
“So when you were around, did you help out at the hotel?”
“I sure did. My dad made sure I learned to do everything from the time I was old enough to fold sheets and towels. I did every crappy job there was in that place.” I laughed, remembering how I’d hated some of those jobs. But now I was damn glad. I’d do any of them if I had to.
“Is your dad retired?”
That question was always a kick in the teeth. “Um, pretty much, yeah.”
He was retired all right. At Sing Sing Correctional Facility, enjoying prison food. Dear old dad.
“That’s cool. Do you see him much?” She finished her champagne or whatever it was she was drinking. And I’m pretty sure she sneaked a look at her watch.
“No, not really. I get super busy with the hotel. It takes up a lot of my time.” Truth was I hadn’t visited Dad since last Christmas.
Time to change the subject and fast. Her line of questioning was getting dangerously close to things I didn’t like to talk about. I gestured at the restaurant, which was now in full-blown dinner rush. There were still a couple empty tables by the window, though.
“So, Happy Nara, do you have time for some dinner tonight?”
This was one woman I wasn’t going to let slip through my fingers.
But I don’t think she was as happy about my invitation as I thought she might be. She slipped off her chair after throwing some money on the bar for the drinks.
“Gosh, Brodie, thank you so much. I actually have to get back to the office. You know how start-ups are. My workday doesn’t usually end until nine or ten p.m.”
She typed something into a text message. Hmmm.
“Looks like my assistant Mimi is really needing me for something.” She smiled and shrugged.
All right, if that’s the way it was going to be…
I stood, too. Even in those sexy heels, she still had to look up at me. And god, I liked how she did that.
“It was a pleasure meeting you.” She extended her hand, which seemed a little formal, but whatever.
“I’d like to see you again. I like your crooked smile.” Boom. I’d done it.
She looked nervous. Did I look like an axe murderer?
“Oh, thank you.” She fumbled in her bag and produced a business card. “That would be nice.”
I leaned in to kiss her cheek and inhaled the simple shampoo scent of her hair. Clean and beautiful, just like she was.
She gave another little laugh, and I realized her face had turned bright pink.
I’d embarrassed her. Now, if that wasn’t the cutest thing.
Her phone buzzed again, and again she furiously responded to the text.
“Mimi again?” I had to torment her a little, especially since I knew she was beating me at my own game.
“Yes! Yes, something’s going on at the office. I gotta go. See ya.” And she went running out the door.
I watched her stride purposefully past the front of the restaurant window, never looking up from her phone. Good way to trip and fall.
Which I think I already had.
Chapter 9
Nara
The second I was back in the office, a blur of red hair rushed me. “On my gosh! How was it? You stayed longer than I thought you would!” Mimi yapped, out of breath.
“God, girl, calm down. Were you on the edge of your chair the whole time I was gone?”
She trotted after me as I headed to my office that wasn’t really an office and sat across from me once I’d settled in.
“So here’s what you missed while you were gone.” She ran down a list of all we had to do that night before we could call it quits.
I buried my head in my hands, ever so slightly buzzed by the alcohol.
“Don’t worry,” she chirped. “We’ll get everything taken care of. When our beta test mommies come in tomorrow, they’ll never know we were scrambling at the last moment in preparation for their kids’ dirty diapers.”
Just as she was wrapping up, Joi barged in, staring at Mimi until she took the hint and split. With the chair vacant, Joi plopped down across from my desk and pulled her long, blond hair over her shoulder to twist the ends like she always did when she was about to be dramatic.
She plopped her feet up on my desk and took a deep breath. “These wedding preparations are killing me.”
“I thought things were under control.”
She threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. “My mom and Jack’s mom are feuding over seating assignments. My shrink says weddings can bring out bad behavior in people, but I never expected this. I should have just handled everything myself, but I wanted to throw them a bone, make them feel important. Involved.”
While she jabbered on about the wedding, I scrolled through my email. Damn, there was alre
ady one from Brodie. He didn’t waste any time. I flagged it for later.
“Nara? Nara? Hey, anybody home?” Joi asked.
I looked up from my laptop. “Oh, sorry. What were you asking?”
“I was asking if you picked up your bridesmaid dress yet.”
“Oh, right. I had the final alterations done a couple weeks ago. It’s probably ready.” I scribbled a note to call the shop tomorrow and returned to my email. Joi went back to her wedding talk.
“Shit.” I sighed. “Another email from Simon.” My husband-not-husband.
“That asshole is still coming around?” she asked.
I peered around the wall of my cube to see who was in hearing distance. “Do you want to get some dinner in a half hour or so? I really want to talk but not here.”
Joi, too, peeked around the corner at the office full of people preparing for tomorrow. I was tight with my crew, but I was the boss. They didn’t need to know everything about my private life.
“I’ll swing by in half an hour. You’d better be ready. No last minute emails or calls,” she said.
I held my hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. I will be ready.”
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later, Joi poked her head into my cube.
“I came early, knowing you’d need that much prodding to get out the door.” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for my resistance.
And she was right. If she didn’t drag me out the door, I’d never leave. Sighing, I stuffed my laptop into my tote so I could do some work at home later, and on the way out I told Mimi not to stay too late. She would stay late though, god love her, and everything would be ready for tomorrow.
Joi and I walked to Fettoosh, a Lebanese place not far from the office. In true New York fashion, diners were still streaming into the place even though it was nearly nine p.m. It was no wonder. Fetoosh always smelled fabulous, and I hadn’t eaten since my street vendor hotdog.
I ordered my usual shish tawook chicken kabobs, and she ordered the same thing she always did, which I could never pronounce. The owner brought us some nice, light Lebanese wine, and we got down to business. I probably didn’t need any more alcohol. But what the hell.
