Read Online The Billionaire Next Door by Jessica Bird - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Bird
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music.
And they didn’t agree on anything. Which was the fun part.
“I can’t believe you don’t like any of the Impressionists,” Lizzie said, shaking her head over her cannoli.
“Oh, please.” He smiled more widely. “Rorschach tests and finger painting do more for me.”
“So what kind of art do you like?”
He forked up a little more of his crème caramel. “Medieval. Definitely medieval.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Why so surprised?”
“It’s not what I expected.”
“And what exactly would you expect? Edward Hopper? No, wait, LeRoy Neiman?”
She sipped some of her cappuccino. “Well, I, ah…I’m just surprised you care about art at all. Or know so much about it.” She rushed to qualify. “Not that I think you’re uncultured or anything. It’s just…”
He leaned back in his chair, feeling a little awkward for the first time. “Just that considering where I come from, men aren’t usually into that stuff?”
She winced. “That sounds bad doesn’t it? I don’t mean to offend you or generalize.”
“Nah, it’s okay. Beautiful things should be valued, so I like art. No big deal.”
The awkward feeling persisted. Thing was, he liked that she thought he was just another Joe from Southie, that she seemed to have no clue who he was. He’d been Sean O’Banyon, Big Shot Wall Street Money Man, for so long, it felt liberating to leave that identity behind.
And just be himself.
Except he was leaving a hell of a lot out and that didn’t sit well.
She took another bite of the cannoli and wiped her mouth. “You know a lot more about literature than I would have thought, too.”
“Always been a big reader.”
She smiled and he loved the curve of her cheeks in the candlelight. “So tell me, what do you do? I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
The waiter showed up at Sean’s elbow. “Another espresso? More cappuccino?”
“Not for me, thanks. Lizzie? No? Okay, the check would be great.”
The waiter left and Sean folded his napkin and put it on the table. God, how to answer her. This had been the best date he’d been on in…forever. All it had been was two people getting to know each other and he didn’t want to ruin it.
Especially because he didn’t know for a fact that she hadn’t been using his father for money.
Except, damn it, Lizzie just did not seem like that kind of woman.
Sean cursed in his head. Yeah, well, neither had the one who had taken him for such a ride way back when.
“My work?” He shrugged…and recalled the conversation he’d had with his team before he and Lizzie had gone out. Nothing but interest-rate analysis and speculation on whether the Fed was going to raise the rates in the next quarter. Dry. Very dry. “You know what, it’s not that interesting, I’m afraid.”
“Are you in construction?”
His brows shot up. “What makes you think that?”
As Lizzie turned bright pink again, he wanted to lean across their empty cups and kiss her. So much so, he planted his palms on the table and started to rise.
But come on. Trying to do that for the first time in public? Not smooth.
As he forced himself back into the chair, he knew he was going to end up putting a move on her at the end of the night. Heknew it. It was probably a bad idea but she was so different…so natural…so real. A woman, not a social shark in a skirt.
Or at least she appeared that way.
“Why do you think I’m in construction, Lizzie?”
“Your chest is really…ah…developed. So I thought maybe what you did had a physical component to it.” Then she frowned and looked down. “Except your hands aren’t callused. Are you a trainer at a gym?”
“I do train folks, yeah.” And this was not a lie. He worked a lot with the membership of his triathlon club, getting folks ready for events. “I’m into sports.”
“What
And they didn’t agree on anything. Which was the fun part.
“I can’t believe you don’t like any of the Impressionists,” Lizzie said, shaking her head over her cannoli.
“Oh, please.” He smiled more widely. “Rorschach tests and finger painting do more for me.”
“So what kind of art do you like?”
He forked up a little more of his crème caramel. “Medieval. Definitely medieval.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Why so surprised?”
“It’s not what I expected.”
“And what exactly would you expect? Edward Hopper? No, wait, LeRoy Neiman?”
She sipped some of her cappuccino. “Well, I, ah…I’m just surprised you care about art at all. Or know so much about it.” She rushed to qualify. “Not that I think you’re uncultured or anything. It’s just…”
He leaned back in his chair, feeling a little awkward for the first time. “Just that considering where I come from, men aren’t usually into that stuff?”
She winced. “That sounds bad doesn’t it? I don’t mean to offend you or generalize.”
“Nah, it’s okay. Beautiful things should be valued, so I like art. No big deal.”
The awkward feeling persisted. Thing was, he liked that she thought he was just another Joe from Southie, that she seemed to have no clue who he was. He’d been Sean O’Banyon, Big Shot Wall Street Money Man, for so long, it felt liberating to leave that identity behind.
And just be himself.
Except he was leaving a hell of a lot out and that didn’t sit well.
She took another bite of the cannoli and wiped her mouth. “You know a lot more about literature than I would have thought, too.”
“Always been a big reader.”
She smiled and he loved the curve of her cheeks in the candlelight. “So tell me, what do you do? I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
The waiter showed up at Sean’s elbow. “Another espresso? More cappuccino?”
“Not for me, thanks. Lizzie? No? Okay, the check would be great.”
The waiter left and Sean folded his napkin and put it on the table. God, how to answer her. This had been the best date he’d been on in…forever. All it had been was two people getting to know each other and he didn’t want to ruin it.
Especially because he didn’t know for a fact that she hadn’t been using his father for money.
Except, damn it, Lizzie just did not seem like that kind of woman.
Sean cursed in his head. Yeah, well, neither had the one who had taken him for such a ride way back when.
“My work?” He shrugged…and recalled the conversation he’d had with his team before he and Lizzie had gone out. Nothing but interest-rate analysis and speculation on whether the Fed was going to raise the rates in the next quarter. Dry. Very dry. “You know what, it’s not that interesting, I’m afraid.”
“Are you in construction?”
His brows shot up. “What makes you think that?”
As Lizzie turned bright pink again, he wanted to lean across their empty cups and kiss her. So much so, he planted his palms on the table and started to rise.
But come on. Trying to do that for the first time in public? Not smooth.
As he forced himself back into the chair, he knew he was going to end up putting a move on her at the end of the night. Heknew it. It was probably a bad idea but she was so different…so natural…so real. A woman, not a social shark in a skirt.
Or at least she appeared that way.
“Why do you think I’m in construction, Lizzie?”
“Your chest is really…ah…developed. So I thought maybe what you did had a physical component to it.” Then she frowned and looked down. “Except your hands aren’t callused. Are you a trainer at a gym?”
“I do train folks, yeah.” And this was not a lie. He worked a lot with the membership of his triathlon club, getting folks ready for events. “I’m into sports.”
“What
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