Читать книгу Her Leading Man - Maggie Dallen - Страница 5

Seeking Cary Grant, that’s what her online profile had read. The guy sitting across from her at the bar was attractive, had a British accent, and… Well, that was where the similarity ended.

“So what do you really do then?” he asked with a mouth full of bread. They hadn’t ordered dinner but the waiter had kindly brought them a basket of warm bread, most likely in a vain attempt to sober up her obnoxious date, who stank of whisky.

Caitlyn let out a weary sigh. She was way past caring if her disgust was obvious. This man had tested her patience from the moment he’d sat across from her.

“What do you mean, what do I really do?” she repeated.

She hated that question. Hated it.

He shrugged and tossed back a large gulp of his beer. “So you just work at a yarn store then?”

Caitlyn’s hands clenched together in her lap as she prayed for patience. So maybe managing and teaching at a yarn store wasn’t the career she’d dreamed of when she’d gotten her art degree in college, but she liked it there. “Isn’t that enough?”

Her date shrugged again and leaned over the table so the smell of whisky was nearly overwhelming. “Not much of a career path, is it?”

He let out a belch that nearly knocked her out with its gaseous fumes.

“I like it.” She squelched the urge to qualify her life decisions. She certainly didn’t have to explain herself to this man, who wouldn’t know art or passion if it hit him upside the head. Being surrounded by gorgeous textures and fibers, and sharing her passion with others—it made her happy. She’d made a home for herself there over the last five years and she refused to apologize for it, especially not to this drunken jerk.

“And what about you?” she asked, fruitlessly attempting to make eye contact with their waiter so she could pay the bill and get out of there. When that failed, she shoved her empty wineglass toward the end of the table so the waiter could see that they were done. One drink had never felt so interminably long.

“I’m a venture capitalist.” Though with his drunken slur it came out more like vent captlish. “I build companies from the ground up.” He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth and leaned in even closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a state secret. “I make a lot of money.”

Caitlyn actually flinched in the face of such a gauche remark. “Good for you.”

He pointed a finger in her face. “You could learn something from me. I could help you.”

Oh, wonderful. “I don’t need any help, thanks.”

His eyes narrowed to the point where she suspected he might just fall asleep and land face first in the breadbasket. Part of her hoped he would. At least then she wouldn’t have to hear him speak. He wobbled in his seat. “Yeah. You need me.”

“Check, please.” She was a little louder than intended, but it did the trick. The waiter looked in her direction and raised a finger in the “one second” gesture before racing off toward another table that was beckoning.

Her date seemed oblivious to her quest for the check. He was currently leaning over the table, his bleary gaze fixed on her. “Want to know what I think?”

“Not really.” She fumbled through her purse for her wallet. So far, she’d heard everything this man thought on a myriad of topics and was thoroughly disgusted. How this soulless, aggressive, alpha male had managed to come across as sensitive and thoughtful in their e-mail exchanges was a mystery. To think she’d actually been excited when she’d first spotted him sitting there. Sensitive, thoughtful, and hot as hell? For a split second she’d honestly thought she’d found the one. Mr. Right.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I think you need someone to add some excitement to your life,” he said matter-of-factly before popping another piece of bread into his mouth.

Her hands froze inside her bag as those words shredded her last bit of patience. “What does that mean?” The words came out through gritted teeth, and she glared at him across the table. He continued to chow down on his bread as he explained—loudly and with an excessive amount of hand gestures, not noticing or caring that his running commentary on her life had struck a nerve.

“Look at you.” He waved a hand toward her, nearly tipping over the condiments in the center of the table in the process. Caitlyn picked up her purse again to look for her wallet, hoping that by ignoring him, he would stop speaking.

It didn’t work. Ben continued on with his explanation undeterred. “There’s probably a hot piece of ass hidden under all those layers, but no one would ever know it.”

A sudden jolt of anger made her nauseous. Caitlyn clutched her purse, and for one brief moment she envisioned slugging him with it.

He kept going, apparently unaware that he was in danger of being smacked upside the head with an oversized handbag. “This whole look you’ve got going is so Plain Jane. Are you trying to come across as frigid and matronly? Because if so, you’ve succeeded.”

She tried to hold on to the initial rage, but his words hit too close to home. He was all but echoing everything her ex had said. Oh, her ex had never been quite so crass—aggressive and crude had never been his style—but the basic message was the same.

“You need to spice it up a bit,” he was saying. She was vaguely aware that her date was still talking, but his words were partially drowned out by the rush of blood pounding in her ears.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she tried to rein in her raging emotions. Do not listen to him. He’s a drunken asshole who has no idea what he’s talking about. Despite her mental pep talk, her hands were shaking. She stared at the jumbled contents of her bag. She needed to find her wallet so she could pay and get the hell out of there.

“I mean, I get it if you’re going for the whole sexy librarian thing but trust me, love, if that’s the case, you really need to focus on the sexy part of that equation.” He laughed at his own joke, and it sent little crumbs of bread flying out of his mouth. “And no offense, but a yarn store? Sounds painfully boring.”

The waiter walked past—without the bill—but with an apologetic smile that said he heard every word and felt sorry for her. Great, stranger pity. That was exactly what she needed after being mocked mercilessly by the man who was supposed to be perfect. She didn’t need pity; she needed the damn check.

Mr. So Not Right leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “You know what you need?”

She ignored him, focusing instead on fishing out the leather wallet that had gotten wedged beneath a tattered romance novel and a skein of yarn. Wallet found! Now where, for the love of God, was the check?

“You need to get laid.”

Caitlyn gasped, her cheeks burning and her stomach sinking with revulsion at the crude remark. “That’s it, I’ve had enough.”

Screw the check. After digging into her wallet, she pulled out enough cash to cover her drink.

“I’m serious,” he said, one hand reaching out as if to grasp hers. She pulled back just in time. The man was repulsive enough to listen to—she sure as hell didn’t want his hands on her.

“I’m serious,” he slurred again. “You look like a woman who needs a little excitement…in the bedroom.” Leaning back in his chair, his lips turned up into what could only be described as a leer. “I could help you.”

Bile rose in her throat at the repulsive, offensive offer, and she didn’t attempt to hide her cringe of horror. The waiter finally set the bill down on the table between them. Thank the freakin’ Lord.

They reached for it at the same time, but Caitlyn was faster. Her date lurched forward to snatch it out of her hands. “I got this.” He fell back into his seat, knocking the rest of his beer over in the process—directly into her lap.

Yup, it was official. Worst. Date. Ever.

* * * *

Caitlyn stomped through the snow on her long walk from Manhattan's Murray Hill neighborhood to Alphabet City. It was quicker than waiting for the bus at that time of night, and the exercise helped her work off some steam.

That man was infuriating. And worse, a complete and total waste of time. She could have gone out with her friends tonight. Or made some progress on her latest knitting project. But no. She'd spent the last hour listening to some jackass from London explain in excruciating detail why he was God's gift to women.

If that had been the extent of it, the night wouldn't have been completely intolerable. But then he'd insisted on challenging—no mocking—her life decisions, and apparently doing his very best to make her feel bad about herself. As if her self-esteem wasn’t already at an all-time low after the breakup.

She had nothing to feel bad about, she reminded herself. Just because she didn’t have a sexy career or a boyfriend didn’t mean she was a failure. She liked working at the knitting store, and she loved sharing her craft.

It wasn’t so easy to dismiss his comments about her sex life, however. Or rather, the lack thereof. But it wasn’t like she wasn’t trying to get back on the horse. Yes, she had taken some time to recover from her heartbreak, but she hadn’t joined a nunnery. She’d gone along with Meg’s great Internet dating plan, hadn’t she? And look how well that had turned out. She blew a strand of hair out of her face. Clearly online dating was not for her. She’d stick with the tried and true method of meeting a man in her everyday life. Well, probably not at the yarn store. But at a bar, or when she was out running errands. That kind of thing happened, didn’t it? That was it. This was the last time she’d let her friend talk her into online dating.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Speak of the devil.

“I am never going to forgive you for putting me up to this,” she greeted her best friend, pouting into the phone despite the fact that her friend couldn’t see her.

Meg sounded annoyingly amused. “I take it the big date didn't go so hot?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough. Would a drink cheer you up? I'm at Cagney's and need some company.”

Halfway between Murray Hill and home, Cagney’s was an old-school pub that offered the sweet, sweet temptation of blissfully mind-numbing alcohol. “I'll be there soon.”

Meg and her husband, Jake, had bought the bar several years before, and at the time it had been as run down as the old movie theater it neighbored. Caitlyn spotted Tamara in the ticket booth as she walked by the theater. Her friend was bundled up, her long blond hair tucked into an oversized hat, and her slim shoulders hunched over beneath a puffy winter coat. She looked freezing and miserable, but she gave Caitlyn a smile and a wave as she passed by. “How was the date?” Tamara mouthed through the glass.

Caitlyn scrunched up her nose in disgust and gave her the thumbs down signal. Tamara’s face fell, but she didn’t look surprised. As a fellow single lady, she was adamantly opposed to blind dates or online dating…or dating at all, for that matter. She would most likely take Caitlyn’s failure and use it as yet one more reason why dating was not for her.

And maybe she was on to something. Her friend seemed to be quite content with work and friends. Maybe that’s all she needed too. Inside Cagney’s, a fire roared in the giant fireplace and couples cuddled up against one another in the booths. Loneliness made her throat tighten. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t like Tamara—she wanted to find someone and she couldn’t deny it. And not just any someone, she wanted to find the one. A partner, a friend. Someone she could count on. Her parents had found it. They’d been lucky in that regard. Even if they hadn’t had a full lifetime with one another, the time they’d had together had been perfection. Or at least that was how Caitlyn remembered it. They died when she was a teenager, but all of her memories were of her parents as a united, contented team.

She slumped onto a barstool beside her very pregnant best friend. “I just want that,” she said, nodding toward a nauseatingly cute couple to her right. “Why can't I just fast forward to that? I'm tired of all this online dating.”

“You've been on one date so far,” her friend reminded her.

“Yeah, but it was the worst.”

Jake set her drink in front of her and leaned over the bar, apparently eager to hear a horror story. “How bad was it?”

Caitlyn sighed. “The only thing more depressing than wasting an evening on a date from hell is having to relive said date for one's happy couple friends.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop whining. We could use a good laugh.”

They were watching her with expectant looks, and Caitlyn resigned herself to the inevitable. “Fine, but you two are buying my drinks tonight.”

By the time she was finished recounting the story, Caitlyn found herself laughing alongside her friends. “God, how pathetic am I that I actually sat there for an hour?”

Meg nodded and picked at the bowl of popcorn sitting between them. “Mmm, I would have walked out immediately.”

Jake leaned against the bar with a mocking grin. “So he was no Cary Grant then, huh?”

Meg stifled a laugh as Caitlyn tipped up her nose and pointedly ignored the comment. All of her friends thought it was hilarious that she was actually seeking her dream man. Granted, her dream man had died decades before, but still—was it too much to ask to find a sexy, chivalrous, self-deprecating, gallant, charming, and witty single man in the city?

Apparently so.

When her ex had dealt the deathblow to their long-term relationship, she’d fallen into a bit of a depression, if she was being honest. She’d thought they were happy, that they’d had a future. He was supposed to be the one. Her life partner. The man she would grow old with. They’d never really talked about marriage and kids, but Caitlyn had assumed it was just a matter of time. Once he grew up a bit, surely he would want to settle down. After all, they were happy—or content, anyway.

Or at least she’d thought they had been. But looking back, she was no longer sure. The day he’d broken up with her was the day the rug had been pulled out from under her feet. Her perfectly content world tipped over. It was all over. Like someone had snapped shut a book they were finished reading and moved on to the next one on the shelf.

Her friends had done their best to drag her out of her funk, but for a solid six months she’d grieved for the life she wouldn’t have. No longer able to envision her future, she’d found it hard to know where she was in the present. For the first time since her parents died, she’d been aimless. Lost.

It still wasn’t easy, but at least she’d fallen into a rhythm and forged new habits and pastimes over the past few months.

When she’d finally caved and let her friends convince her that it was time to get back on the horse, she’d felt the first glimmer of hope. Maybe her ex wasn’t the one. Clearly he wasn’t or he wouldn’t have left. Maybe there was someone better out there—someone who fulfilled her wildest dreams. Sitting in front of her computer, staring at all of the limitless options, the huge unseen universe of potential mates—she’d finally been able to see that there might be a new and exciting relationship in her future.

So why not aim for the best? Why not set out to find the ideal man of her dreams? And that was Cary Grant. It had been since she was eight and she’d stumbled upon Bringing Up Baby one rainy weekend afternoon. She’d known then and there that he was her perfect man—always had been and always would be.

She was certain there were men out there that embodied his charm and chivalry—his kindness and warmth. She just hadn’t met one yet. But he was out there, she knew it. And this time when she fell for someone, she would make sure he was the spitting image of her perfect leading man.

Caitlyn let out a wistful sigh and Meg patted her arm. “Cheer up, buttercup. Maybe if you’re this pathetic tomorrow, Tamara will pick Cary Grant for the next weekend double feature.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened with excitement. “Ooh, you think?”

Every other Saturday for the past two years, Caitlyn, Meg, Jake, and a few of their friends volunteered alongside Tamara to keep the Ellen Theater in some semblance of working order. The current owner had let the place fall into disrepair over the past decade, which was not only bad for the neighboring bar’s business, but just plain sad. There wasn’t much they could do as far as restoring the architecture of the old theater, but they did what they could to keep the interior clean and functioning.

Meg had recruited her younger sister, Alice, and Tamara had enlisted her roommate, Marc. They’d named themselves “Operation Petticoat” for the Cary Grant movie of the same name, thanks to a comment by Jake about how they were attempting to save a sinking ship. It turned out to be a rather fitting name for a bunch of classic movie nerds. Like the film, they were a motley crew, to be sure. But they shared a love of old movies and that, plus the free drinks that Jake provided at the bar next door, had been enough to cement the crew’s friendship.

“Jake has been trying to sweet talk Tamara into picking a James Cagney lineup this week,” Meg said, nodding toward her husband, who was pouring a draught beer at the other end of the bar.

“I can’t compete with that. Jake has the whole ‘I’ll give you free drinks for life’ edge,” Caitlyn whined.

Meg cocked her head and made a show of studying her friend. “Normally I’d say you’re right, but you are so pathetic right now that you just might win.”

Caitlyn laughed and smacked her friend on the arm as she finished off the last of her drink. “Gee, thanks.”

* * * *

Ben’s hangover was officially into its second day. Which was unfair, really. When had he gotten so old that hangovers were multi-day events? But then, he’d been on an epic binge the other night, so it was only fair that his hangover be equally epic. He just wished the night had been epic. He assumed it hadn’t been, since he could barely remember it. Surely if it had been epic, it would have been memorable.

As if a two-day hangover wasn’t bad enough, the sound of his oldest friend being yelled at by a shrieking demon was definitely not helping. He tried to block out the sounds of the couple fighting in the other room of the penthouse suite, but it was no use. His best friend’s girlfriend was so loud the neighbors on the first floor must have been well aware of her fury. Though their fighting was preferable. He couldn’t even imagine how painfully awkward it would be to be crashing with a happy couple after a breakup.

He’d even put on some earphones to drown them out with music, but the sound of his name thrown out like a weapon was inescapable. Cringing, he pulled off the earphones and gave in to the urge to eavesdrop now that the conversation had turned to him.

It wasn’t exactly breaking news that Vanessa was pissed he was staying with them. But to be fair, it had only been a few weeks, and it wasn’t his fault that his condo wasn’t ready yet or that he’d been forced to leave his own pleasant, cozy home thanks to his cheating skank of an ex.

Still, he’d known from the beginning that he couldn’t take Gregory up on his offer to crash for too long, not with the state his relationship was in. Jesus, at least he and Olivia had skipped this kind of toxic despair. Finding your girlfriend in bed with your workmate was not ideal, but at least it had managed to end their relationship quickly and all at once. It had been a swift deathblow rather than this slow torturous death that Gregory seemed to be suffering through with this on-again, off-again relationship.

But still. He’d never intended to stay as long as he had, and he certainly didn’t want to add any more issues to his friend’s full plate. So he dialed his executive assistant at the office. “Hey, Natalie.”

“Are you coming in today?” she answered. He could hear the sounds of the office and was struck with a hint of homesickness.

Ben rubbed his eyes with his palms. She’d asked the same question every day since the incident. He didn’t know how much she knew, if anything. Their office was small, and gossip had a tendency to spread like wildfire. But, if she did know about the breakup and about how his ex had been sleeping with one of his partners, she had never let on. In fact, his assistant of the past two years seemed hell bent on nagging him until he returned to the office.

No thanks.

Knowing how Alejandro had betrayed him was bad enough, but he definitely didn’t trust himself to face him in person. Not in an office setting, at least. A good bar brawl, that he could do. A quick session in a boxing match? Sure, he’d be there. But having to sit across a conference table and see that smirking, smug face and not be able to hit it? No way.

Still, it was kind of sweet that she kept trying. “Any updates from Darren?”

One of his newest clients, Alexander Darren III, was an up-and-coming real estate developer who was looking to Ben and his firm to provide the capital for his next venture. So far the pitches Darren had sent over looked promising and the numbers seemed to add up. But there was still a long way to go before they signed a deal.

“Nothing yet.” Natalie sounded bored by that topic. Oh, heaven forbid they ever get through a phone conversation that solely revolved around business. “Where are you staying?”

Natalie may not know the details—or maybe she did, his assistant seemed to know everything—but she’d helped book him a hotel for those first few hideous nights and was well aware that he hadn’t returned thanks to her assistance having movers pick up his belongings and all.

“Still at Gregory’s.”

Natalie let out a sigh that could only be described as dreamy. “Mmm, Gregory. Is he single yet?”

Ben couldn’t help but laugh. “No, and neither are you.”

She sighed again, but it was only to make him laugh. His assistant was almost twice his and Gregory’s age and was happily married with three kids. But, as she liked to point out whenever Gregory stopped by to pick him up for lunch, a girl can dream at any age.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” he said.

“Because Gregory’s single?”

“No, you vulture, because I’m going to need to find a new place. Soon. I think I may have overstayed my welcome.”

“What are you thinking, another hotel?”

Ben made a face even though no one could see him. Those nights at the hotel had been miserable. Alone and self-pitying, he’d had nothing to do but wallow. He was an inherently social creature and he needed to be around people—or a person at the very least—now more than ever.

“Why don’t you see if there are any temporary sublets available out there. Maybe with a roommate?”

If his assistant found that request odd, she didn’t let on. She knew him well enough at this point that little he did or said fazed her.

“Will do. I’ll send you some options by end of day.”

Gregory walked into the room, his normally put together look more disheveled than Ben could ever remember seeing him.

“Gotta run, Nat, your dreamboat just walked in.”

“Natalie?” Gregory asked as he hung up.

“The one and only. Did Vanessa leave?” His question was followed by a loud slam of the front door and he and Gregory both winced.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ben said.

Gregory plopped down into an overstuffed chair in the corner of the study, opposite Ben who was slumped over the desk. He’d been poring over numbers all morning—or at least until the fighting had started, making number crunching impossible.

“You doing okay?” Ben asked.

Gregory’s head snapped up in surprise. Understandably. Ben wasn’t exactly known for being touchy-feely, and Gregory was definitely not one to talk about his emotions.

“Do I look that bad?” Gregory joked, although there was little humor in his expression.

“You look like shit.” Ben was also not known for mincing words, and right now his friend—who was rather notorious for being suave and debonair—looked like he’d been through battle. His normally clean-shaven face bore a five o’clock shadow and his eyes were circled with dark shadows.

Gregory let out a little laugh as he thrust a hand through his already disheveled dark hair. “That’s about how I feel.”

An awkward silence hung between them as Ben debated whether his friend needed a sympathetic ear or a diversion. Gregory made the decision for him. “So, have you heard anything from this new client?”

Ben shook his head. Unlike Ben, Gregory came from money. Serious money. He was the guy that everyone loved to hate. Even Ben, although he counted Gregory as one of his few true friends. Definitely one of a small number of friends who weren’t also work acquaintances.

The thing that was most annoying about his friend was that he had it all. Not only did he inherit a sum that most would never dare dream to see in their lifetime, but he was also ridiculously handsome, intelligent beyond belief, and had managed to quadruple his inheritance by the age of thirty.

He was also whip smart when it came to real estate, a fact which Ben had knowingly taken advantage of during this deal with Darren. He knew numbers, and the numbers told him that real estate was the next route his company should take. But it was unchartered territory for the small, private firm, and Gregory had been a wealth of information.

Ben wasn’t above using his friend and his connections to get ahead. Unlike Gregory, he had most definitely not come from money. His father may have been a bastard, but he’d made sure Ben knew the value of hard work and the benefits of having money. To get to the point he was at, one of the youngest partners in his firm, he’d had to be driven. Easy to do when your one and only goal in life was to succeed in business. His father had drilled it into him long ago—the only way to get ahead was to stay focused. His relationship with Olivia had been a distraction. All the drama had made him lose his focus. He was still considered ruthless and sharp by his colleagues, but he knew he could do better. This deal with Darren was his chance to get ahead of the pack.

It was a good thing that Olivia had cheated on him. Now he could go back to focusing on the things that mattered. He should have stuck with one-night stands and casual flings like he’d always done in the past. He’d vowed ages ago that he’d never allow a woman or a relationship to interfere with his goals. He’d seen the bitterness that had developed between his parents. The resentment had eaten away at their marriage because his father blamed his mother—and her children—for holding him back from success.

He’d been raised to believe that he could have one or the other in life, that was the lesson he’d learned all those years ago. Love or money. Family or freedom. Relationships or power. He’d chosen the latter every time and had never regretted it. The former were fleeting, untrustworthy. But money and the freedom and power that came with it… That was tangible, controllable. The only factors involved in success were effort and determination, whereas love was a fickle beast, victim of the whims of others.

But even knowing all that, what had he done? He’d gone and broken his own rule. He’d gotten involved, like an idiot. He’d become sloppy, forgotten his own rules and the reason they existed because he’d been swept up in Olivia’s intoxicating passion. Any relationship would have been stupid, but one like that? One that stole his energy and took away his focus, that had been a gigantic mistake. One he wouldn’t be making again anytime soon.

Ben pulled himself back from that train of thought. Every time his mind turned to his ex and her betrayal, he was on the verge of losing himself in a shame spiral. Betrayal, jealousy, pain… These were all the reasons he avoided relationships in the first place. He should never have been in a position to be hurt to begin with. He’d let her get too close and he’d suffered as a result. Served him right.

Gregory cleared his throat, pulling him back from the maudlin thoughts that had been haunting him for the last few weeks. “And news on Darren?” Gregory asked again.

Right, business. Darren. The new deal. “Waiting on Darren and his team to get back to me with the revised contract.”

Gregory nodded absently, apparently lost in thought. Ben had a pretty good idea where his friend’s mind had gone. Such a shame. For a man who had everything, Gregory was bloody miserable, thanks to that howling banshee of a girlfriend. He’d watched from the sidelines all these months as Vanessa twisted him around her little finger and then tied him in knots over and over again. It wasn’t his place to intervene. All he could do was watch and wait and hope to hell that his friend came to his senses and ended the toxic relationship once and for all.

He could all but see his friend pull himself out of whatever dark place he’d gone to as he focused on Ben once more. “So, how’d your date go the other night?”

Ben shrugged and made a noise that was something akin to “eh.” It seemed preferable to admitting the truth. He had no idea. The whole night had been a bit of a blur.

It had been a stupid idea in the first place. Hooking up after a breakup was one thing—that was expected and therapeutic—but a date? He blamed Natalie for sending him the link to a dating site. He’d never done online dating before, and he had to admit, the online part was kind of fun. You create this profile that is basically just an ego-boosted best version of you and then you chat with all these women. Countless women. And some of them were pretty great—one in particular was interesting, eloquent, funny, and fucking hot, if the pictures were anything to go by.

So he’d asked her out. Not that he was looking to get into another relationship or anything. He’d learned that lesson. But online dating seemed like the most efficient way to find his next hookup so he could start to move on. He should have just stuck with the old tried and true method—go out to a bar and hit on the ladies. Buy a few cocktails, throw out a few compliments, and leave the rest up to Mother Nature. It had never failed him before. But no, he’d allowed Natalie to convince him that online dating was the wave of the future. Online was one thing but going on a date was a totally different matter. Maybe that was why he’d started on the whisky before his date had even arrived.

Gregory took his non-answer to mean that the date had only been so-so.

It was possible it had been amazing, but Ben would never know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to reach out to her to find out. Even if he’d wanted a second date—which he didn’t—how the hell would he explain the fact that he had almost no memory of their first date. Bloody embarrassing. He’d learned his lesson. From here on out he would stick with what he knew. Sex. Pure, simple, meaningless sex. That was what a rebound was supposed to be.

Besides, that black hole of a night was over, a thing of the past. He hadn’t gotten any e-mails from his date hinting around about meeting up again, so more likely than not she’d moved on as well. No use giving it a second thought.