PROLOGUE
“SO THE QUESTION IS,” Samantha Stone said, arching her eyebrows at her long-distance best friends Abby Vandiver and Carley DeLuna, “whereareall the good men?”
The women each maintained hectic schedules yet never missed a quarterly lunch and shopping date in Manhattan, where their respective careers took them on occasion.
Sam ran a finger over the line sketch she’d doodled—on a cocktail napkin—of her upcoming architectural project, which was expected to cement her reputation. “I mean, here we are, three fabulous, successful women in our early thirties, and we’re single.” Tucking a strand of long blond hair behind her ear, she frowned. “I could understand if we all lived in the same city—but it’s the same story in Dallas, D.C. and Charlotte. I think what we’re witnessing is a nationwide shortage of marriageable men.”
Abby Vandiver, a D.C. marketing wunderkind, made a derisive noise, her silvery-gray eyes flashing. “The problem is that smart, self-made women are too threatening to men’s fragile egos. Trust me—my ex-husband is a prime example. Big-boobed waitresses are much easier to deal with than a woman who might take yourjob.” The frustration on her face was clear—she could make over a so-so product and turn it into an overnight sensation, but she hadn’t been able to find a man who didn’t want to makeherover.
Carley DeLuna nodded, her brown curls bobbing, her dark eyes solemn beneath the brim of a pale-blue Parisian couture hat. Over the past few years, Carley had turned her unassuming upscale vintage clothing store in Charlotte intotheEast Coast source for A-list celebrities. “Think about it—even the guys we knew at Wharton dated women who were beneath them on the economic food chain.”
Abby nodded. “So if we’re near the top of that food chain, where does that leave us?”
“Lonely,” Carley said, her voice wistful. Of their threesome, she had always been the romantic. She toyed with the Ford Thunderbird convertible brochure lying next to her plate. “It’s enough to make me think twice about buying my new car. Maybe it’s too…pretentious.”
“Are you kidding me?” Abby said. “You’ll look terrific sitting behind the wheel of that car. Men don’t mind announcing their success, and neither should we.”
“Right.” Samantha sipped from her second glass of wine—or was it her third? The two empty bottles of merlot on the table might explain their philosophical state of mind. “And personally, I’d rather be lonely than settle for a man who isn’t my equal on every level.”
“Hear, hear,” Abby said. “I’ve worked so hard to break the glass ceiling at my company—I refuse to downplay my success in order to find romance.”
“I feel the same way,” Carley said. “I couldn’t be happy with someone who doesn’t have the same drive that I have.” Then she frowned. “Unfortunately, the only men who ask me out still live with their mothers.”
Abby and Samantha groaned in sympathy.
“I’m on the radar of every loser in D.C.,” Abby said. “I meet a cute guy on the train, and, inevitably, he’s barely employed.”
“Ifhe’s employed,” Samantha said. “I’ve dated more guys who are ‘between jobs’ than I care to remember. A couple of them even asked me to help themfindjobs.”
“Good grief,” Abby said. “Call me shallow, but I’m a successful woman, and I think I deserve to have a successful man in my life.”
“But not just successful,” Samantha offered dreamily. “Someone who makes those long hours at the office worthwhile…who likes adventure…who pushes me out of my comfort zone…”
“You’re twirling your hair,” Carley chided.
Abby harrumphed. “And you’re describing someone who, to my knowledge, doesn’t exist.”
“God, I hope that isn’t true,” Sam said, stopping mid-twirl to tuck her hair back, keeping with her polished public image.
Carley tapped her finger on the car brochure. “Maybe we need to be more…selective. You know—raise our standards.”
“Amen,” Abby said. “And stick to them. Hold out for a man who is worthy of our fabulousness.”
“You’re right,” Sam said, perking up. “After all, there must be three quality men out there…somewhere.”
“All we need is one in Dallas, one in D.C. and one in Charlotte,” Carley said with a laugh.
“It’s going to be like finding a needle in a haystack,” mused Abby the cynic. “Think it’s possible?”
“Absolutely,” Carley insisted.
“A pact,” Samantha said, raising her glass. “No more dating unsuitable guys.”
“No freaks,” Carley said, raising her glass.
“No geeks,” Abby said, raising hers.
“No bartenders,” chimed in Samantha.
