urge to stick her tongue out behind the bitch's back, and turned to face Brian again. She could feel the flaming heat on her cheeks, and wished more than anything that she could take back the last five minutes.
No, ten. She never should've answered her cell.
She twisted her hands as she met his eyes. "Brian, you've got this all wrong...."
He scoffed, like he couldn't care less anymore. "Forget it," he said, and walked away.
This time she didn't follow him.
She just stood frozen, shell-shocked and tongue-tied, watching him go. He moved briskly through the store to the front entrance, and then he was gone. Disappearing into the rain, into the masses of people clogging Fifty-fourth Street, and out of her life once again.
Chapter 6
By the time Brian got back to his office, he was royally pissed. There went his one hour of relaxing—or trying to—at Roland & Fisk. After four meetings that morning alone, all he'd wanted was his soup and his double espresso and to read the paper in peace. The last thing he'd expected was to be slammed by the help.
He also hadn't expected the help to be the sister of his friend's fiancé, or the girl who'd sat beside him at the Applegate Diner just the night before—or the girl he'd devoured like a starving man at a party two years ago. Speaking of that, what the hell was that halitosis crack? He'd never heard complaints about his breath before, and he wasn't missing teeth, for chrissake!
Damn it all. He was trying to forget what'd happened, but in truth, he was still rattled. It shouldn't bother him so much, but he was going to see her again at Ben and Ally's wedding in a few weeks, and if that was how she remembered him... He shook his head at the thought. Fucking embarrassing.
Just then the phone on his desk rang. "Brian Doren. Oh, right, I'll bring the paperwork. No problem, I'll be there in five minutes." Great. He'd forgotten about the status meeting at two o'clock. He released a deep sigh and gathered up some folders he'd need.
He made a mental note to call Danny afterward and make sure she was taking it easy. He'd sent her enough money to cover her expenses for the next few weeks, and he wanted to make sure she didn't need more. He also had to call his mom to make sure his dad wasn't driving, and to double-check that she had gotten her new eyeglass prescription.
Oh, yeah, and he had to call Veronica back. She'd left him two messages that morning.
As he made his way down the hall, he straightened his tie and ignored the clawing in his gut that must have been leftover Reese Brock-related tension. The whole incident at the bookstore had really thrown him. When he'd gotten to the cafe, he'd noticed that the girl working behind the counter was on the phone, and he'd assumed she'd be with him soon. What he hadn't assumed was that she'd begin talking about him—insulting him. Him!
He hadn't counted on realizing in a matter of moments that that cute round ass belonged to Reese Brock, and he hadn't counted on Reese Brock regarding him as Quasimodo. Balding, Altoid-needing Quasimodo. Jesus.
And had he officially gone crazy or did her memory of him seem completely divorced from the reality of that night they'd spent? They had talked for most of the New Year's party, and ended up in the hallway, kissing and pawing at each other, right there with fifty other people around the corner. Sure, he hadn't gotten the vibe from her that she was interested in anything more, but he hadn't picked up on her being nauseated, either.
And why was she talking about him like he was dying to get together with her? Had he ever said that? But he supposed he knew the answer to that—obviously his attraction to her had been more obvious than he thought. She must've picked up on it at the diner.
Well, so what? He was a male; she was a female... since when did that make him a charity case? To hell with it, he thought irritably. She was clearly unstable. And he was just in a rotten mood
No, ten. She never should've answered her cell.
She twisted her hands as she met his eyes. "Brian, you've got this all wrong...."
He scoffed, like he couldn't care less anymore. "Forget it," he said, and walked away.
This time she didn't follow him.
She just stood frozen, shell-shocked and tongue-tied, watching him go. He moved briskly through the store to the front entrance, and then he was gone. Disappearing into the rain, into the masses of people clogging Fifty-fourth Street, and out of her life once again.
Chapter 6
By the time Brian got back to his office, he was royally pissed. There went his one hour of relaxing—or trying to—at Roland & Fisk. After four meetings that morning alone, all he'd wanted was his soup and his double espresso and to read the paper in peace. The last thing he'd expected was to be slammed by the help.
He also hadn't expected the help to be the sister of his friend's fiancé, or the girl who'd sat beside him at the Applegate Diner just the night before—or the girl he'd devoured like a starving man at a party two years ago. Speaking of that, what the hell was that halitosis crack? He'd never heard complaints about his breath before, and he wasn't missing teeth, for chrissake!
Damn it all. He was trying to forget what'd happened, but in truth, he was still rattled. It shouldn't bother him so much, but he was going to see her again at Ben and Ally's wedding in a few weeks, and if that was how she remembered him... He shook his head at the thought. Fucking embarrassing.
Just then the phone on his desk rang. "Brian Doren. Oh, right, I'll bring the paperwork. No problem, I'll be there in five minutes." Great. He'd forgotten about the status meeting at two o'clock. He released a deep sigh and gathered up some folders he'd need.
He made a mental note to call Danny afterward and make sure she was taking it easy. He'd sent her enough money to cover her expenses for the next few weeks, and he wanted to make sure she didn't need more. He also had to call his mom to make sure his dad wasn't driving, and to double-check that she had gotten her new eyeglass prescription.
Oh, yeah, and he had to call Veronica back. She'd left him two messages that morning.
As he made his way down the hall, he straightened his tie and ignored the clawing in his gut that must have been leftover Reese Brock-related tension. The whole incident at the bookstore had really thrown him. When he'd gotten to the cafe, he'd noticed that the girl working behind the counter was on the phone, and he'd assumed she'd be with him soon. What he hadn't assumed was that she'd begin talking about him—insulting him. Him!
He hadn't counted on realizing in a matter of moments that that cute round ass belonged to Reese Brock, and he hadn't counted on Reese Brock regarding him as Quasimodo. Balding, Altoid-needing Quasimodo. Jesus.
And had he officially gone crazy or did her memory of him seem completely divorced from the reality of that night they'd spent? They had talked for most of the New Year's party, and ended up in the hallway, kissing and pawing at each other, right there with fifty other people around the corner. Sure, he hadn't gotten the vibe from her that she was interested in anything more, but he hadn't picked up on her being nauseated, either.
And why was she talking about him like he was dying to get together with her? Had he ever said that? But he supposed he knew the answer to that—obviously his attraction to her had been more obvious than he thought. She must've picked up on it at the diner.
Well, so what? He was a male; she was a female... since when did that make him a charity case? To hell with it, he thought irritably. She was clearly unstable. And he was just in a rotten mood
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