Page 17 of Players Like Us
Neal set down his fork, nodded. “No doubt he wanted to make sure I never got near you. I can’t blame him. If I had a daughter, I wouldn’t want someone like me around her either, even if he had an honest interest.”
“An honest interest?” Her pulse tripled. “What does that even mean?”
Those blue eyes glittered with emotion. “Let’s just say, people change and maybe I wasn’t always about the next feel-good whatever, but once you get labeled it’s hard to change opinions.”
Was he referring to himself now, or back in high school? Is that why he’d rejected her? Because he wasn’t or didn’t want to be the person everyone thought he was? And he didn’t want to hurt her?
What was the truth and how could she find it?
“What if that’s not who you really are? Is it still hard to change opinions?”
He met her gaze, held it, “Even then.”
“So, I guess the question is who’s the real Neal Alexander? I thought I knew but now I’m not so sure.”
His voice dipped, turned soft, gentle, so persuasive. “There’s only one way to find out.”
She could barely get out the words. “Such as?”
“Spend time with me.” Pause, and a slow smile. “Get to know me.”
11
Neal could only pretend interest in an afternoon scotch for so long. Back in the day, he hadn’t cared if it was 7:00 a.m., 7:00 p.m. or any time in between. If the event were boring, he could enjoy a drink or two, maybe three or four. After the second, he usually lost count, and the more he drank, the looser he got...the funnier, too.
But it usually ended with a hangover, an outrageous credit card bill, a naked woman in his bed, and too many regrets. At some point, a guy had to own up to the idiocy and the emptiness of that path. And the regrets? How many roads did you pave with regret before you realized you were destroying yourself? Walking down the same path as those you detested?
Dominic rarely drank and when he did, it was a single glass of wine. There had to be a reason behind it, but he never said and Neal never asked. Still, the one-glass limit and Dominic’s desperate need to save the restaurant made Neal assess his own drinking habits—and assess his other habits as well. A good example could make a person think about their own patterns, even make them want to change. That’s what happened with Neal and Dominic. They started out as strangers with one goal in common—save the restaurant—and three years later they were best friends with a successful flagship restaurant and three other thriving ones.
Of course, only a few people knew Neal was part owner in these businesses and he preferred this. Why deal with the constant demands on his time, efforts, or money when he could operate behind the scenes and Dominic could be the figurehead? It worked for both of them. But there’d been a few times when Neal had wanted to tell someone he was more than just a good time. He’d actually tried once, but the woman had laughed, kissed him full on the mouth and told him he was too much fun to be practical. And then she’d clutched his belt buckle and led him to the guest bathroom during her parents’ Christmas party and showed him exactly why he should forget practical and stay with fun.
Would Rachel call him practical or fun? He’d settle for “decent human being”. He dreaded the prospect of collecting data on her but he’d given his sister his word so he had to do it. After all, no one else in his family believed he could honor his word. Meredith had never given up on him and he would not disappoint her. So what if he did a little investigating to appease Rachel’s brother? No big deal.
Except it was a big deal. Everything about their last few nights together had been enjoyable: Rachel’s first taste of beef carpaccio, her comments about the short ribs, and, of course, the smile as she savored the dark chocolate truffle cake. He’d enjoyed watching her, sharing in her pleasure. And then there’d been the discussions about redesigning Matilda’s, the details that made a project work, and how this “facelift” would bring more intimacy and romance to the restaurant.
Plus, who didn’t love a good bottle of cabernet? They’d shared two bottles and by the end of the first evening, he’d been relaxed and thinking about the next restaurant he wanted to try with her. For business purposes, of course. But deep down, he had to admit that they’d connected on a more personal level and he’d be a fool to deny it. Why else would he spit out memories of his childhood and the tyrant father who’d controlled them? He still couldn’t quite figure out why he’d done it, but there was something about her that made him forget to act like the reckless playboy everyone thought he was...
Before they finished their third restaurant “tour”, Neal decided Rachel was more than capable of revamping Matilda’s. She should get the job, and he had no doubt her suggestions would revitalize the place, provide the intimacy and romance she’d mentioned.
Intimacy and romance. He actually liked that idea.
He’d pushed aside his initial idea of asking her for a proposal in order to gather personal details and then not hiring her for the job. That was just wrong and he’d known it when he first suggested it. After spending time with her, it seemed even worse. Neal still had a commitment to honor because he’d promised Meredith, but he also had a personal interest in making sure Rachel was not being taken advantage of by anyone—especially Simon Bainbridge.
And that’s why he’d invited Simon to Matilda’s for a drink. The guy would never turn down top-shelf scotch or a visit to Matilda’s. Couple that with floor seats to the upcoming NBA season’s game of his choice, and the guy rearranged his schedule to meet at 4:00 p.m.
Neal sipped his scotch, wished it were ice water, studied the man who claimed old money permitted a lot of latitude in the area of decorum, and planned his move. They talked about the markets, the parties they’d attended, and the skiing in Tahoe. Boring. Predictable. Annoying.
It was time to lay out the real reason Neal was sitting here, tolerating the pain-in-the-ass guy with the wide smile and too-blonde hair. “The woman you were with the other night at the Westfield Plaza? What’s her name again?” As if he didn’t know. “Rebecca? Reagan?”
Simon’s green eyes sparkled, his voice dipped. “Rachel. She’s something, isn’t she?” He shook his head, blew out a long sigh smothered with attraction and lust. “Those lips… That body… Did you check out her legs?”
Any man with a pulse had noticed all of those things and more. The amber eyes, perfect complexion, the slender neck… The full breasts hugging her clothing… Visions of the red halter dress swirled through his memories...morphed to the delicate hands with painted red nails… He bet those hands could do a lot to a man’s body and he bet Simon thought she was going to do that to him. Like hell. “I did notice, but why is a woman like that hanging around with somebody like you?” Neal made sure he kept his tone light, his smile in place when he asked the question.
“I guess she recognizes top shelf when she sees it. And I know she’ll appreciate it when she tastes it.” The sleazeball raised his glass, saluted Neal, and downed the rest of his scotch. “Rachel and I are going to spend a lot of time together… with and without clothes.” He laughed, winked at Neal. “I would say in and out of bed, but I’m envisioning all sorts of places to spend time with her minus the clothing: the car, a stairwell, a dressing room, even an elevator. Hmm, the elevator would certainly prove an interesting challenge.” He set the empty glass on the table, leaned back against the booth. “Would you press the stop button? Or...not?” Another laugh, a shrug. “I’ll have to think on that one.”
Neal clenched his fist beneath the table, wished he could use it on the guy. The jerk was talking about Rachel. What would Daniel Reese think if he heard the references about dressing rooms and elevators? No doubt, there would be no thinking at all. In fact, the man would probably put a fist to the guy’s face, not care if he broke a nose or blackened an eye. But Neal had to stay cool so he could find out how Simon and Rachel met and if they planned to see each other again.
Was it because he came from old money and a powerful name? Or was she enamored with the guy? No, it couldn’t be that. Rachel wasn’t a fool. Maybe it had been a blind date, maybe that’s all it was. Couldn’t she tell his jokes were stupid and his lines were manufactured and overused? Neal pushed aside her potential motives, homed in on the guy sitting across from him. His motives he did care about. “Didn’t you just meet the woman? How have you already gone from just met to sex locations?”
