“You love me too much. I knew you wouldn’t.”
“But if I did?”
“Then I would have been forced to give you my puppy-dog eyes.” Oliver stuck out his bottom lip in a pout and fluttered his lashes over a set of pleading peepers. He pointed to his face. “I’m impossible to say no to.”
I laughed. “Get out. I have work to do before this lunch meeting.”
Three hours later, I walked into Gramercy Tavern to meet Matthew. Oliver had described his friend as impeccably dressed, tall with olive skin. Not very much to go on. I looked around, but the height description didn’t help since most people were seated at tables.
The hostess greeted me. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Yes, hello. I’m meeting someone for lunch, but I’m not too sure what he looks like. His name is Matthew Reis. Maybe he’s checked in?”
The woman’s eyes gleamed. “Lucky lady. He’s already seated, but he let me know he was waiting for someone.” She grabbed a menu and gestured for me to follow. “Right this way.”
Matthew was at a table in the back of the restaurant. He stood when we approached.Oh my. I didn’t have to wonder what thelucky ladycomment meant. This man was absolutely gorgeous. Chiseled jaw, bright blue eyes that popped from his smooth, tan skin, and slightly messy hair that made me wonder if he’d justhad sex before coming to meet me. And don’t even get me started on the broad shoulders. He did a quick sweep over me, and when he smiled, cavernous dimples appeared.Seriously?Those should be illegal on a man who looked like that. The way he checked me out made me almost certain he wasn’t gay. Why had I assumed he was? Because Oliver is gay? That was pretty dumb, but yeah—notgay.
“February.” He extended his hand. “Ollie described you perfectly.”
“With Oliver, I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
Matthew smiled and stepped around the table to pull my chair out.
“Thank you.” I sat and settled my purse on the back of the seat. “The last time Oliver sent me to meet someone I’d never met, he described the man as a human espresso.”
Matthew’s brows pulled together. “Was he short with dark skin?”
“That’s what I thought. But he turned out to be Nordic—six foot four and blond. Apparently, his description meant the man talked too fast and could make your heart race. He’s not the best at providing a visual.”
Matthew chuckled. “He described you as a hurricane in high heels. But he also mentioned that you were beautiful with red hair, so it wasn’t hard to figure out who you were.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm. “So how do you and Oliver know each other? I didn’t get a chance to ask him.”
“I represented his friend Will in his divorce.”
“Ah.” I nodded and picked up the white napkin on the table, draping it across my lap. “From Daniel, the husband who wouldn’t put up the shower curtain.”
Matthew’s smile widened. “He might’ve mentioned that once or…three hundred times.”
He folded his hands on the table, and I couldn’t help but notice the big, chunky watch on his wrist. Audemars Piguet Royal Oak. Expensive, but not ostentatious. I also noticed that his hands matched the watch—large and manicured. Matthew was exactly the type of guy I used to go for—before. My heart sank remembering the man who’d changed my type.Though maybe…maybe things with Brock were difficult because I was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole? Matthew was definitely a round peg, and there was something comforting and safe about a man whofits.
Matthew lifted a glass of water. “So Ollie tells me you’re originally from Brooklyn.”
“I am. Park Slope.”
“I grew up in Prospect Heights.”
“Neighbors, huh? Do you still live there?”
He shook his head. “I stupidly sold seven years ago before the prices went berserk. I live on the Upper West Side now. But I do miss it. I don’t get back often enough.”
“I was there recently to meet a client,” I said. “At a place called Weather Up.”
“I know it well. Great place. They make a drink called Robert De Niro’s Waiting that I love.”
“That’s what I had! It was delicious.”
“A successful businesswoman from Brooklyn who drinks scotch? Do I propose now or wait until we get Ollie’s blessing?”