Read Online Running from Love: A Story for Runners and Lovers by Rozsa Gaston - Free Book Online Page B

There are plenty of ghostwriters out there who’d drink piss to work for Dan Perlstein.”
    “You’re definitely buying.”
    “You’re an asshole. Be here Friday and we’ll see.”
    “Thanks. You too, Jim.” He hung up.
    Jude got up and ambled into the kitchen. He flicked on the coffeemaker, then threw open the French doors to the back deck.
    He’d done well. How to Marry Money would sell a million copies, and he could live off the royalties without having to live down a reputation as its author. It was going to be a good day.
    How should he get started? He filled his Fairfield University coffee mug and sat out on the back deck to come up with a plan. He’d research rich friends in the Greenwich area, both male and female, many of whom were proven experts on the subject. Information gathering would require expensed lunches and investigative reporting at top galas and benefits. He could enlist Ginny Slade as head of his research committee. By the time the book came out, he’d have her married off, and she could go on TV talk shows, praising the book’s merits to the sky, all the while gesturing with a glittering, rock-laden ring finger—a win-win situation all around.
    Then he laughed at himself. Ginny would never go on a talk show for any reason, especially not to talk about life’s crass necessities. She was the real thing, unlike Jude; a blue-blooded, well-born Yankee, who didn’t talk about money—neither hers nor her friends. He’d leave it to Dan Perlstein’s publicist to plug the book once it came out. He was a brash New Yorker who’d make How to Marry Money sound like the next best read to the Bible.
    Heading to his computer, Jude decided to start on a rough outline after he cleaned up his e-mails. Scanning down the screen, he saw something from an unfamiliar address. A message entitled “Hi” had come in from [email protected] .
    She had gotten back to him. He hadn’t been sure she would, given her lukewarm reception of his dinner suggestion.
    His pulse raced. Why hadn’t he seen this last night? Then, he remembered. He’d forgotten to check his e-mails after coming in from his evening run. He’d been so down about the possibility of losing the only job on his horizon that he’d just watched some baseball and gone to bed. He double-clicked on her message:
    “Hi—Wanted to let you know I’m free for dinner this Friday, the 27th or the following week, either Thursday or Friday. —Farrah”
    The tone wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but it was a start. He looked at the time that it had been sent, 10:48 p.m. the evening before. That was a good time of day for her to have been thinking about him.
    Where should he suggest they go? He knew a bunch of places in Greenwich, but they were all too fancy for a first get together. Riverdale sounded more intriguing. He knew next to nothing about it, other than hearing that it was the best neighborhood in the Bronx. He typed back.
    “Farrah—Good to hear from you. What about this Friday? Want to go somewhere in your neighborhood? I’ll pick you up around 7 if that works for you. Let me know your coordinates. —Jude.”
    He hit send. Then, he remembered that he’d told Jim they’d go out for a beer Friday afternoon. He’d let him off the hook so his boss could get home and start the weekend sooner with his family.
    Jude pushed back his chair, satisfied. It was going to be not only a good day, but a good week.

F OUR
    W hen the message appeared on her screen from [email protected] , she froze. Opening it, she read his suggestion for dinner on Friday. He would pick her up if she’d let him know where she lived.
    Getting up from her desk, she went to the window, opened it, and leaned out the sill. The brisk air felt good on her skin. He’d left the choice of where to go in her court. There might be thousands of restaurants in New York City, but Riverdale only had a few, all of them pretty basic. There was An Beal Bocht, the neighborhood Irish