by Mika Lane
“Hi, Simon,” I said with all the enthusiasm I could muster. They say you get more bees with honey…and it was too early for drama, anyway.
“Darling! I saw your story in Page Six,” he said with glee. “I’m sorry your dating life has become so ho-hum.”
“Simon, what do you want?”
“Oh, just to say hello to my favorite wife. Well, my only wife. And to see how your fundraising efforts have been going. You know, perhaps you could hold another one of those date auctions. They seem like good moneymakers.”
I lowered my voice and whispered, “Simon, go fuck yourself.” Oh, that felt good.
“Oh, sweetie. If you’re smart—and I know you are—you wouldn’t go ’round pissing me off.”
“I don’t have your money. I’ve told you that. But if I did, I still wouldn’t give it to you. I earned that money by marrying you, which I have really come to regret,” I hissed.
“Well, you’ll have many more regrets in your future if you don’t come to your senses.”
Something snapped. I was done. Just done.
“Look. Don’t call me anymore. Not ever again unless you are bringing me divorce papers. Otherwise, stay away from me or I’ll get a restraining order.”
He laughed. “You can’t get a restraining order against me. I’ve never touched you, and I pose no physical danger to you at all.”
“Don’t worry. I can embellish a story as well as the next person. And I’ll do that if I need to. So like I said, stop calling me. Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Now, Nara, I would be careful if I were you—”
Shaking, I swiped my phone closed and buried my face in my hands.
The phone buzzed again. Brodie.
had fun last night. let’s do it again.
Ugh. All these men could go to hell.
* * *
At lunchtime, Joi and I called an Uber to run over to the bridal shop for her last fitting. With the wedding two weeks away, the pressure was on, and she spent the better part of each day on the phone with caterers, florists, calligraphers, and a dozen other vendors who were playing a part in her big day. And then there were the families.
I vowed to remain single. I had no interest in the bullshit drama Joi was going through, and besides, my company took all my time and energy. I’d be damned if I was going to waste that on some guy who would only let me down in the long run. But that wasn’t to say I was not up for some fun…
“We’re here!” Joi squealed, practically jumping out of the Uber before it fully stopped. She ran for the bridal shop’s front door like she was greeting an old friend, leaving me behind to approach it with my usual scorn. After all, I was several hundred bucks into this wedding thanks to this place.
Stop.
I had to buck the bad attitude, if not for Joi’s sake, then for mine. I didn’t have the spare energy to walk around with a chip on my shoulder. Her special day was coming up, and she deserved to be celebrated by someone who wasn’t wearing a resting bitch face.
I sat on one of the salon’s white, fluffy sofas and nibbled on Jordan almonds. My dress was ready, waiting for me to pay the balance at the front desk. Oh, there was nothing I wanted to do more than spend four hundred dollars on a dress I didn’t even like. But hey, what were friends for?
Joi bounded out of the dressing room in her partially fitted gown, the back wide open, holding fluffy layers of tulle and other fabric.
“Well?” she said, twirling in front of me.
I had to admit, she made a pretty bride.
“They’re going to have me come in for one last fitting just a few days before the wedding, because I’m still losing weight. Can you believe it?” She skipped back to the dressing room with the saleslady running after her.
My phone buzzed. Brodie again.
i have an offer you can’t refuse. well, shouldn’t refuse
That made me laugh. And damn if I didn’t need a laugh just then. Even though I wanted nothing to do with dating.
if I can’t refuse it, do I get to know what it is?
Oh my god. Was I flirting?
nope.
Well, then.
what if I don’t trust you?
you would be smart. miss happy
Oh what the hell. The memory of him helping the homeless guy melted my cold heart.
you still there?
yes, sorry. at a bridal salon
you getting married ?
um, no. my friend is
whew. i’m not into married women
Note to self—don’t let this guy know I actually was married. Married to an asshole in a fake union, but married nonetheless. I continued the text-versation.
what kind of women are you into?
Joi came bounding out of the dressing room again, saleslady in tow.
“What do you think of this headpiece? I might get it instead of a veil.” She was breathless in her excitement. Bridal salons were her kryptonite. What she would do for fun after the wedding was over, I had no idea.
“Mmmm. I like the veil better.” Actually, I hated veils, but I knew Joi loved them. This indecision was just last minute jitters.
She ran back into the dressing room with that poor woman on her heels.
I returned to my phone. Shit, had I really just asked Brodie what kind of women he liked? But before I could make a joke about it, his answer popped into my phone.
women like you
So. There it was. My heart pounded, because the ball was in my court. Well, my virtual court. He liked me. He was handsome and sexy.
What the hell was wrong with me?
But I needn’t have worried. Before I was able to come up with something clever to say, he let me off the hook.
so what do you say to my offer you shouldn’t refuse?
what’s the offer?
a date. with me
that’s all you’ll tell me?
that’s all you need
well then. okay. i accept
Chapter 14
Brodie
Damn if that Nara wasn’t one tough customer. If I hadn’t been unable to stop thinking about her gorgeous face, long legs, brains, and smart-ass attitude, I might have thrown in the towel by then.
What was it about her? I mean, she was beautiful and classy, sure. Ambitious, too. And she didn’t give a shit about my money. But what really got to me was that she was making me work for it. And that was something new.
I was trying to head out of work early on a Friday afternoon, unusual for me. Weekends were the cash cows of the hotel business, and I’d normally be busting my ass, making sure everything was in place for the next three days of craziness. Not that we weren’t busy during the week, it’s just that things were calmer…and slower. Weekday guests were normally here for business. Weekend guests were here for pleasure, and they had an entirely different set of expectations. Everything had to be fucking perfect. And it nearly always was.
I hadn’t been in touch with my conniving business partners since I’d found out about their plan to screw me over. I was still thinking through the best way to handle things. But my ass was chapped that those fuckers even thought for one moment they could take away the hotel my dad built from the ground up.
“Dalt,” I said, calling my brother in Sausalito.
“Yo, little Bro. What’s up?”
I heard seagulls in the background. Living the California life. Fucker.
“Dude. I got a story for you. Do you have some time?”
“Sure. I just finished cleaning my brushes.”
I pictured him taking a seat on the old beat up couch in his studio, bright sunlight shining everywhere, a nice ocean breeze blowing through…
I sat down, too. “So, I got this weird piece of mail last week.”
I shared the whole story of how I’d accidentally discovered my business partners’ meeting with a law firm to discuss breaking up the HWE partnership.
“Holy shit,” he said. “Can they even do that?”
“It looks like it.” I shared with him the conversation I’d had with my attorney Joe. Talking about it left me with a grinding burn in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t experienced anything quite like it since my dad’s trial.
“So what are you gonna do?” he asked.
I sucked in my breath. “Dunno yet. I’m trying to think it through calmly. Maybe find a way to surprise them. I have a few ideas brewing.”
“I’ll get you in touch with those new investors soon. That should open up some options.”
“Thanks, Dalt. I know I can always count on your support. I suppose I could always buy the guys out, but I hesitate to liquidate so much of my investment portfolio.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he said.
He was right. There was no alternative.
* * *
On my way through the hotel lobby, the receptionist, Sonya, eyed me. Since I’d rebuffed her, she’d mostly ignored me, but in an effort to keep her from feeling uncomfortable, I’d gone out of my way to be friendly. I walked over to her after she helped the last guest in line. Scott, the other staff member on the desk, nodded and went back to his work. He was the epitome of discretion. God love him.
“Sonya, how has your day been?” I asked.
She looked surprised. Still pissed, perhaps.
“Very good, Mr. Harcourt. And yours?” She smiled, but there was something hard behind her eyes. Had she thought something would come of our little encounters? I was a freaking idiot. Would I ever learn?
I leaned toward her and said in a lowered voice, “I hope you’ve been well. Again, I’m sorry we couldn’t continue what we started. I’m really sorry.” And I was. Sort of.
I must have said something right, because I could swear her expression brightened. I looked over to see Scott watching us, but he quickly put his nose back in his computer and out of our business.
Sonya looked around and sneaked a finger across the front desk to touch my hand. “It’s okay, Mr. Harcourt. I knew it had to end some time.”
“I appreciate your understanding, Sonya. And I appreciate all your hard work.”
“You’re welcome.” She was smiling now but also looking over my shoulder. New guests were coming in. Perfect timing.
“Talk to you later,” I said.
“Yes, Mr. Harcourt. Of course.”
* * *
I had the limo run uptown to pick up Nara, who still didn’t know where we were going. The driver let me know when they were only a few blocks away from the hotel so I could head out front to jump in and join her.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I said, pulling the car door shut behind me.
And boy, did she look gorgeous. Hair pulled up into a neat ponytail, loose black trousers, and what looked like another of her signature white blouses. It didn’t get much classier than that. And of course, she was dragging around her bag loaded with bricks. I planted a hot one on her delicious lips.
“Brodie! Fancy meeting you here.” She laughed.
“Okay, so now Miss Happy is a joker?”
The late afternoon sun shone in the car window and illuminated her flawless skin. She reached over and clasped my fingers.
“Just keeping you on your toes, Mr. Hotel Guy.” She turned to fully face me. “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
I looked out the window and realized we were nearly there. I nodded toward a sign.
Her brows wrinkled. “What are we doing at a heliport?”
“What do you think, Happy? We’re going for a helicopter ride.”
“No way! I’ve never been in a helicopter.”
“Well, you’re gonna love it.”
Her brows knit together. “I don’t know. Where are we going?”
“We’re flying over Manhattan and then to the Hamptons for dinner.”
Her mouth dropped open just as I’d hoped it would. “No way! But wait a minute. I have to get to work in the morning. Even though it’s Saturday, I have a load of things to do.”
I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to me. “Don’t worry. We’ll be in Montauk in forty minutes. We’ll have dinner and head back home. In fact, I bet I’ll have you back home before nine thirty since we’re off to such an early start.”
I opened the door and held out my hand. “Are you coming? Or do I have to have dinner by myself?”
* * *
We were finally thirteen hundred feet in the air, both struck speechless. I’d flown over Manhattan many times, but never failed to be dumbstruck by the view from above. Aside from the bright yellow taxis, the typical noise, movement, and crush of people were invisible from this high up. It all looked so damn peaceful. Which of course was a total illusion.
“Oh my god, there’s the Chrysler Building!”
I leaned forward to tap the pilot on the shoulder and made a spinaround motion with my finger. He knew exactly what I wanted, and got as close as he could to the building to circle it.
“Holy shit. I can see people in their offices!” She pressed her hands against the windows like a little kid.
It amazed me, too. To see the most powerful city on Earth, where it looked about as intimidating as a sleeping baby, was just plain difficult to grasp. Her hand reached for mine as she leaned across me to the other side of the helicopter.
“Are you scared?” I asked.
She thought for a sec and shook her head. “No. Not at all. It’s so peaceful. I’m just blown away. I’ll never have the same perspective on New York again,” she said in a whisper.
That was exactly how I felt.
We finished our tour of the spit of land that was Manhattan and headed east, flying over the bedroom communities of Long Island. Nara’s fingers gripped mine tighter when a burst of wind bounced us around, and I lifted her hand to my lips. She looked at me, quietly settling back into her seat.
“Look at the beaches,” Nara said. They were long and sweeping, and we were low enough to see the tide was coming in.
“It’s so magical,” she added.
We landed a few minutes later and a cab took us to dinner at Flagstone, one of the best restaurants in the small Hamptons beach town of Montauk.
Before we exited the cab to enter the restaurant, I turned and saw her looking at me with those blue eyes. I took my best shot and lowered my mouth to hers.
Chapter 15
Nara
What a freaking awesome diversion from, well, everything.
Brodie first dazzled me with a helicopter ride (a helicopter ride!) over Manhattan, and then dinner in the Hamptons. I mean, who the hell lived like that?
I’d met some wealthy people during my time in New York. The city was full of them. But I’d never known someone who lived at this level of luxury. I mean, the guy obviously worked his butt off. It didn’t seem as if anyone gave him his good fortune from what I could see. But what did I know? Truth was, I knew hardly anything about him aside from the fact that he ran a successful New York City hotel. And participated in silly bachelor auctions.
When his driver picked me up at the office, minus Brodie, I thought, what the hell? Why’d he ask me on a date and then not even pick me up himself? But we swung by the hotel to get him, and headed over to the Wall Street Heliport, usually reserved for the city’s titans of finance and industry. Needless to say, I’d never been there, much less in a helicopter.
Who knew that crazy Manhattan, and boring suburban Long Island, could be so beautiful from up in the air? And then we landed in Montauk, on the far eastern end of the skinny peninsula that was the Hamptons, the collection of seaside communities for New York’s well-off.
I could get used to living like this. But I wasn’t going to. Even if the guy did kiss like a champ.
* * *
We settled into our table at Flagstone, a restaurant I’d only ever heard about. Of course, it was elegance personified—white table linens, fine silver, lots of glistening crystal on every table, and incredible views of the water. A glass of bubbly seemed kind of uninspired, s
o I went all out and ordered a martini.
“So, Mr. Brodie. I barely know anything about you. Educate me.” I chomped on one of the most beautiful breadsticks I’d ever seen. Delicious, too.
He sipped his scotch and sat back in his chair, enjoying the view of the Atlantic Ocean. If it was possible, he was even more handsome in profile, with that square chin and his crazy thick eyelashes. “Well, Miss Happy. I’m boring. I’d rather hear about you.”
“Okay, then. What would you like to know?”
“All right,” he said. “Tell me the best thing that happened to you today and the worst thing.”
I shrugged and took the tiniest sip of my martini.
“I’m boring,” I said, shrugging. “Nothing to report.” Except I was being extorted by a crazy Englishman, my business was on the rocks, and I was being hounded to attend a class reunion I’d rather die than attend.
He didn’t buy it.
“C’mon. Spill it. I know you have something to tell me about your day. I can see it on your face.”
Christ. Was he a mind reader? Well fine. If he wanted to hear my shit, then my shit he would hear. I leaned onto the table so I could lower my voice and looked around conspiratorially. “Well. My husband called me at work to harass me for ten thousand dollars. Other than that, the day was fairly routine.”
I figured that would be the end of that. Check please! Catch the helicopter back to the city, and never hear from the guy again. But he rolled with it. Gotta give him credit.
“Really? That sucks,” he said. “My wife called today to tell me she was pregnant with our tenth child. And I had a vasectomy three years ago.”
I tried looking at him seriously but burst out laughing.
“That was the best comeback ever,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I gotta hand it to you.”
He blew on the back of his knuckles and rubbed them on his chest. “What can I say?” Then he sucked an oyster from its shell.
Why did I find that so sexy?
“So. Did your husband really call you today?” he asked.
Might as well spill it.
