Page 50 of Four Dates and A Forever
Mr.Suit was good-looking in that boardroom badass kind of way. Clean cut with broad shoulders and the prettiest hazel eyes she’d ever seen. The exact steady nine-to-fiver she’d imagined she’d date—when the time came that she was ready. And yet not a single flutter or zing. In fact, her hormones seemed to have gone on strike.
“Elsie, this is Keith. He’s a commodity broker, likes the opera, and sings off key.” Carla stepped back. “Keith, my best friend Elsie who has formed a recent allergy to musicians.”
“Good thing I can’t even hold a tune.” Keith stuck out his hand and they shook. He held on a moment longer than random-meeting etiquette required and an unsettling feeling started to nag deep in her belly. “Nice to meet you. Carla here told me that you’re an architect. That sounds fascinating.”
“Fascinating,” Carla repeated again.
“Interior architect and I love what I do.”
“That makes all the difference,” he said. “Now, what can I get you two drink?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Elsie said at the exact same time Carla said, “She’ll take a margarita. On the rocks. No salt. And a martini for me. Extra dirty.”
“You got it,” he said with a wink. Again, zero flutters. “I’ll be right back.”
Elsie pasted a polite smile on her face until Keith was gone. She grabbed Carla’s arm. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing you a favor,” Carla said.
“By setting me up with some stranger at a bar?”
“He’s not a stranger. He’s a coworker who likes long walks on the beach, top-shelf whiskey, and he isn’t battery operated.”
“Then why don’t you go date him?”
“I already have a man waiting. He’s twenty-two, a rugby player, and into older women. Did I mention he’s a god in the sack?” Carla patted a hand to her chest and sighed. “I wasn’t suggesting you date Keith. Just fuc—”
Elsie coughed to cover up Carla’ssuggestion. “Shhh. And I’m not a one-night-stand girl. Plus, Keith isn’t my type.”
Carla snorted. “Fine, make it a summer fling for all I care, but make it something.” Carla took Elsie by the shoulders and spun her on the bar stool. “Take a look around the bar and tell me who is your type. There are fifty fine specimens to pick from and if you say the guy playing the piano, I will smother you.”
Elsie didn’t even bother to look. Yes, there were a sea of steady suits in the crowd, but she was already trying to balance one guy, an occasional suit who mostly wore jeans and vintage tees and had a schedule about as steady as a boat during a hurricane. “Piano guy doesn’t do it for me.”
“Well, then who does? Because you need to get laid, girl.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Carla laughed. “If you could see your face right now, you’d know the answer to that question.”
“What makes you think I’m not already dating someone?”
“Are you?”
She plopped on the bar stool and sighed. “Maybe.”
“Define maybe.”
“I might, possibly have a proposal, a strictly summer fling, friends-with-benefits proposal that could lead to an orgasm.” She thought back to their weekend and there were those flutters she’d been looking for.
“Could or would?”
“Definitely a would situation.” Rhett was a multiple “would” kind of lover. He was giving and tender and attentive—with a small dash of kink. Then there was the cosmic connection. From the word go, there had been this unexplainablethingbetween them that still burned hot. Proved by the fact that every day that passed, the more seriously she considered his proposal.
“Then why are you here with me and not out getting some would?”
“Self-preservation,” Elsie said, thinking back to the other night. “With this guy it would be easy to mistake the benefits with something more.”
“What’s wrong with more?”
