“I think you might be a bit pessimistic of the entire suit-wearing population.”
“Nope.” Bianca unwrapped her lunch as she spoke. We’d picked up burgers and fries at some deli I’d passed a million times and never stepped foot into before today. “There is a direct correlation between the net worth of a man and his manners. The higher the tax bracket, the worse his etiquette.”
“I think you’re exaggerating. Where’s your research to support such a bold conclusion, Ms. Finance Times?”
She reached into her cardboard cup of fries inside a small white bag and pulled one out. Waving it at me, she said, “I’ll show you my research. You up for a bet?”
“That depends on what I stand to lose?”
She took a bite of her fry and smirked. “You already know you’re going to lose, huh?”
“I didn’t say that. But I like to know all the facts before I jump into anything.”
“Sure you do, chicken.”
I laughed. “What’s the wager, smart ass?”
“I bet I can make that suit move his legs without even asking.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“Is it a bet?”
I was intrigued. “Tell me the prize.”
She thought for a moment. “If I win, you have to drive me back to my apartment on the back of your tandem bike with my feet up.”
“And what happens if you lose?”
“I’ll pedal, and you can sit in the back and relax.”
I was six foot one and a hundred and ninety-five pounds. She couldn’t have been more than one-ten soaking wet. There was no way I was going to let this woman pedal me around town. “I’ll tell you what, if you win, I’ll drive you wherever you want to go with your feet up. But if you lose, you have dinner with me. And I’m taking you to a nice restaurant filled with men in expensive suits.”
She seemed to like that bet. Holding out her hand, she said, “You’re on. Be prepared for a good workout this afternoon.”
I wanted to give her a good workout, but it had nothing to do with a damn bicycle.
She stood and dusted off the grass from her hands. “Can I borrow your sweatshirt?”
I’d had a hoodie with me when I went to the gym. Since it was beautiful out, I tucked it into one of the two carrying bags on the back of my new messenger bike. Her purse and heels were in the other one. She’d exchanged her sexy sandals for a pair of flip flops that were in her bag before she’d hopped onto the back of the bike.
Bianca pulled a ponytail holder from her purse and tied her long hair back into a knot. Then she proceeded to slip on my sweatshirt and zip it all the way to the top before pulling up the hood.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to walk past those suits and show you they won’t even notice that I almost trip.”
“And you need to be incognito for that?”
She pulled the sweatshirt all the way down so it covered her ass. The thing hung to her knees. “I’m covering up my assets.”
“You do have some pretty distracting assets.”
With a dark sweatshirt four sizes too big covering her body and a hoodie pulled tightly over her head to hide her beautiful face, she took off, jogging back a bit and then entering the concrete path. When she reached the two suits, she pretended to trip. One guy looked up for a brief second and then kept right on talking. Damn if they weren’t making the rest of us look bad.
Smiling like she’d already won, Bianca strutted back to where we were sitting. She immediately began to take off the sweatshirt as she spoke. “See. Rude. No manners. The one who didn’t even look up, probably has a view of the park from his living room.”
It probably wasn’t the time to mention I lived on Central Park West and had a view from my living room and bedroom. Which reminded me, where the hell would I even take her if she told me she’d come home with me later? Jay, the bike messenger, wouldn’t be able to afford the closet in my place.
Once Bianca had my sweatshirt off, she began to unbutton a few extra buttons on her own blouse. While before, I had to imagine what was beneath the silk, now she was flaunting perfectly tanned skin and a healthy amount of cleavage. I wondered if she was wearing a push up bra or her tits were that perfectly round.
“That’s stacking the deck a little, isn’t it?”
She pulled her hair out of the ponytail and fluffed it up, then reached into her bag and pulled out a bright red lipstick. “It shouldn’t matter who walks by.”
When she was done, she took off her flip flops and grabbed her sexy heels from the bag, putting them on. Then she turned to me. “Ready?”