Page 10 of Serving the CEO
“Fifteen minutes ago, you were telling me about a cute brunette with a perfect ass.”
I looked at Drew to see him shaking his head and raised an eyebrow. “So? There can be more than one perfect ass in this world.”
He sipped his bourbon, lowered it, and tapped his finger thoughtfully on the rim of the glass. “You ever tire of hopping beds, man?”
“Yeah, right.” I laughed.
“I’m serious.” His lips didn’t even twitch into the hint of a smile.
“So am I.” I continued to watch the door across the street, wanting another look at the woman. Part of it was lust, but I also wanted to confirm if I knew her.
The server appeared with refills for both of us. “Gentlemen, what can I get for you tonight?”
Once the server was gone, Drew turned to business. “How did the purchase go for the building in Greenwich Village?”
“Smooth as silk,” I replied, thinking about how it’d gone down. I’d heard about the auction before it went public and made an offer directly to the bank. They accepted it flat-out, of course, because I’d learned from an inside man their minimum sale price. Connections were everything, whether a person worked in finance or in publishing.
I slid another look across the street.
“How long do the tenants have to vacate?”
I grimaced at Drew. “The bank was firm on that—insisted we give them until the end of the year. It’s exactly what I want for our new offices, so I had to agree, but I might try to hurry them along with some cold, hard cash. I want us in our own place sooner rather than later.”
“We’re not forcing them out,” Drew said in a firm voice.
“I didn’t sayforce. I saidhurrythem along.” Rolling my eyes, I tossed back the rest of the scotch and caught the server’s attention, then looked back across the street.
My persistence paid off. The door swung open, and the woman from earlier came out carrying a white plastic bag. That glorious red hair fell forward as she dipped her head to look at her phone, and I couldn’t make out her face. I still wasn’t sure if she was the woman I remembered from the club.
But damn, her body was gorgeous.
“I bet she’d be just as good in bed as she looks,” I said, turning back to Drew with a smirk.
“Seriously?” He shook his head, a strange look in his eyes. “Will you ever grow up? Find a decent woman and try an actual relationship someday?”
“No, thanks.” I shuddered at the idea of it. I’d seenrelationships. They brought nothing but misery. My parents were proof of that. Most of the guys I knew were the products of similar marriages. That money trap—
I smiled, an idea hitting me.
Grabbing a pen and a little moleskine notebook from my pocket, I scrawled a few notes. “Maybe you’re right,” I told him. “Maybe I should try an actual relationship. Then I can prove to you how wrong you are.”
Drew lowered his glass without drinking from it, his eyes wide. “How drunk are you right now?”
“Not a bit.” I slid the notebook across the table.
He deciphered my chicken scratch handwriting with the ease of long practice, then pinched the bridge of his nose. I could read the disbelief on his face before he even looked at me and I fought not to smile. The idea was brilliant, and I knew I could get him to see it.
“You’re proposing a social experiment?” He ran his hand through his dark waves, giving it that tousled look some women loved. “You’re going to date some woman you pick at random and use it as research for a book on relationships? A three-month relationship?” He shoved the notebook back in my direction. “What a bunch of bullshit.”
“Not enough?” I shrugged and grabbed the notebook, scribbling down an addendum. “Fine. Three months of dating, then we’ll get married…let’s see, mmm…for maybe a year.” I thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, a year. I’ll write the book during that time. It’ll be a bit of a diary telling men why we don’t need a woman for anything outside of sex. And by remaining a bachelor, you’ll never have to dine at the same restaurant twice. By my calculations, you’ll be way cheaper off in the end. All fun, no drama.”
Drew stared at me. “You’re fucking nuts.”
“No.” I shrugged. “I’m practical.”
My idea would work, regardless of what my friend thought. I would note every downside from the first date through the last day of marriage and find practical ways to avoid each pitfall. I would show successful men how to avoid getting trapped in a relationship in the first place.
The ease with which all of this came to me now explained why I’d been stuck writing my book. I’d been waiting for the right idea. This could be my best book ever. I’d make a mint off it and save a lot of stupid fucks from ending up in the same trap my parents had been in. Now, all I needed was to find the right woman for my experiment.
