My Thursday afternoon meeting was a no show. Imagine my surprise when a drenched, flustered brunette slipped into the booth across from me, acting like she was supposed to be there.
When she slipped back out with a snappy goodbye, I never thought I’d see her again.
Until I walked into my Friday morning meeting.
At first, I didn’t recognize her—she was dry this time. But from the look on her face, she recognized me.
When she gave the worst pitch I’ve ever sat through, I thought my boss, and mentor, was going to show her the door—except he accepts the proposal and tells me we have to work together.
I didn’t anticipate I would like her, let alone be interested in her. Sure, she was hot and sassy.
But something about her rubbed me the wrong way.
And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
So, when she leaves the room and her phone chimes with a new text, I knew I wasn’t supposed to look.
I also knew I wasn’t supposed to cancel her date for later that evening.
And I definitely knew I wasn’t supposed to delete the entire exchange, so she had no idea what I’d done.
But I did. And then I showed up at the restaurant, pretending like this was all a big coincidence.
When the date is over, I want more. I need more.
We start pretend-dating because she needs practice, and I tell myself, New York’s most eligible billionaire bachelor, that this is just a bit of fun.
What could possibly go wrong?