A Week in New York(11)

“I can’t leave Leah. I’m staying with Leah and Daniel. It’s rude.”

Leah popped her head around the door. “You can totally leave me and Daniel.”

“Leah, get out. And stop listening at the door! Unbelievable.”

Ethan was laughing. “So, 7 p.m.?”

“You’re persistent.”

“Apparently I am when it comes to you.”

God, he knew just the right thing to say. “820 Fifth Avenue. The Penthouse,” I said.

“I’ll see you at 7 p.m.”

And he hung up.





Chapter Five




It was fifteen minutes to 7 p.m. and I was pacing up and down. I shouldn’t be doing this. Last night was meant to be a one-off.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I said to Leah, who was fiddling about in the kitchen, trying to make us cocktails.

“Got it. It tastes almost like a proper one.”

She came out the kitchen and handed me what I think was meant to be a mojito.

“Drink it,” she ordered.

I took the drink and sniffed it.

“It’s not going to poison you.”

I needed a bit of liquid courage, so I took a sip. My eyebrows shot up. “It’s good,” I said.

Leah nodded. “I told you. Listen: Just have a good time tonight. I don’t know why you are so nervous. He’s hot, but so are you.”

“And that, Leah Thompson, is why I love you.”

She beamed. “Right back at you.”

I didn’t know why I was nervous. It wasn’t because I was about to have dinner with a Roman god. Well, that wasn’t the whole reason. I guess I was just so sick of trying to find the right guy and going through this process of getting dressed up, flirting, touching, kissing. Sharing things and then being hit with the inevitable realization that he wasn’t the right guy. It had just been another waste of time. It was exhausting. I was sick of it.

Ethan definitely wasn’t the right guy. Way too smooth. Way too charming. Way too 3,000 miles away. Way too …

The intercom buzzed and Leah answered.

“You look beautiful,” he said when I opened the door. He kissed me on the cheek. What else could I do but let him? He was way too hot.

I’d dressed conservatively on purpose. I didn’t want him to think I was a sure thing. Even though I was totally a sure thing, I didn’t have to dress like it. I’d worn palazzo pants and a long-sleeved, silk, cream shirt. The concession to sexiness was that shirt buttoned low so I couldn’t wear a bra with it.

“Thanks. Let’s go.”

“Do you want to come in for a cocktail?” Leah shouted from behind me.

I shook my head. “No,” I shouted back.

“I wasn’t asking you,” she replied.

“Let’s go,” I said to Ethan, and he backed out the door as I grabbed my clutch from the console table and I pulled the door behind us.

“Cocktail making isn’t a core skill for Leah,” I explained.

Ethan nodded.

I felt his hand on my back as we waited for the elevator.

“You look beautiful. Did you enjoy your afternoon?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Pretty Woman?”

I nodded again.

“You? Did you have a good afternoon … constructing?”

Ethan laughed throatily. “I was a little distracted after seeing you at lunchtime, but yes, it wasn’t bad.”

Way. Too. Smooth.

“Thanks for lunch,” I said quickly realizing I’d not thanked him sooner.

“It was my pleasure.”

“Thanks for dinner.”

He laughed again. “Don’t thank me yet. You might hate it.”

Ethan’s driver met us on the curb, and like the night before, I slipped in and rolled down the window.

“You don’t like the air conditioning?”

“I like the cool. The breeze. Do you mind?” I asked.

He shook his head and looked at me as if he wanted to say something else. I had to look away. His eyes, I’d forgotten how blue they were.

After a few moments he spoke, “It seems that you’re a little distracted. Was I wrong to be so insistent about dinner?”

I shook my head. “No, sorry.” I turned to look at him again. “You know. It’s just.” I shrugged.

He drew his eyebrows together. “No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

“It’s just that there are rules, and yet here we are. And I want to be here, but I don’t want to be here. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really.”

“I’m just sick of this cycle of disappointment I seem to be in. Hence the rules.”

He turned my hand so my palm faced up, and then linked his fingers through mine.





Ethan

It’s not that I’d never held a woman’s hand before, it was just that I’d never felt the urge to hold a woman’s hand before. I wanted to touch her, to soothe her, to take away the cloud that seemed to surround her. I just didn’t know how.