“I’m plenty nice,” Kris countered. “I just don’t confuse my dates’ names with my wedding planner’s, then get defensive when my friends point it out.”
“You’re married, so A. You shouldn’t be going on dates with other women, and B. I’m not defensive!”
Three skeptical silences greeted that statement.
“Look,” I said finally, “Anica is my wedding planner. Angie is a potential candidate for marriage. They both have names that start with ‘A’ that are conveniently five letters. They’re both lovely women. And they’re two separate people fulfilling two separate roles in this arrangement. End of story.”
“If you say so,” Chance said. “Just be careful, man. Mixing business and pleasure never ends well.”
“I’m not mixing anything,” I insisted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to get to.”
“With Anica?” Kris couldn’t resist one last dig.
“Go to hell,” I replied in a fake cheerful tone, ending the call to the sound of their laughter.
I tossed my phone onto the bed, annoyed at my so-called friends and even more annoyed at myself. This was ridiculous. I was not thinking about Anica Marcel. I was focused on my date with Angelina, who was perfect, accomplished, and exactly what I needed for my arrangement.
Grabbing the burgundy tie, I knotted it with perhaps more force than necessary. Anica wasn’t even my type. Sure, she was beautiful in that understated way that snuck up on you. And yes, she had a sharp wit and didn’t take my shit and seemed genuinely unimpressed by my wealth. And okay, when she laughed, really laughed, it did something strange to my chest and Isometimesgot hard.
But none of that mattered. She was my wedding planner. A professional I’d hired to do a job. Nothing more.
Angelina was waiting outside her building when I pulled up, looking like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine. Her dress, a slinky black number, hugged every curve, accentuating her perfectly round tits and her even rounder ass. Both likely fake, but still very pleasing to my eyes. And my dick. Her hair was styled in perfect waves, and her makeup was flawless. She was, objectively speaking, a knockout.
“You’re late,” she said with a smile as I opened the car door for her. “I appreciate punctuality.”
“Sorry,” I replied, trying not to think about how often I had started arriving on time to meetings with Anica. That was different. That was... a thing I did.
“You look handsome,” she observed as I slid into the driver’s seat. “I like a man who knows how to dress.”
“Thank you,” I said, pulling into traffic. “You look incredible. That dress is stunning.”
“Tom Ford,” she confirmed, resting her hand lightly on my thigh. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Her touch should have been exciting. Angelina was a beautiful woman who was clearly interested in me. Her hand on my thigh should’ve had me uncomfortably hard in my trousers. But no. Apparently my dick was broken. Instead, I was comparing it to the way Anica had gripped my arm when an elderly mother of the bride had nearly knocked over the cake display at the expo.
“I hear the view from this restaurant is spectacular,” Angelina was saying, her hand inching higher on my thigh as she leaned forward, her cleavage on full display. “Though not as spectacular as the view from your penthouse, I’m sure.”
There was no subtlety in the invitation. Any other time, I would have suggested we skip dinner altogether. Instead, I gently placed my hand over hers and moved it back to a more neutral position, using the excuse of needing to shift gears.
“The restaurant does have an amazing view,” I agreed, keeping my tone light. “And the chef trained in Paris. Their lobster risotto is supposed to be incredible.”
If she was disappointed by my redirection, she didn’t show it. “I love lobster,” she said. “And Paris. I spent a semester there during business school.”
“Paris is beautiful. Though I prefer the Italian coast. Less crowded, better food.”
“I have a villa in Positano,” she mentioned casually. “Perhaps we could visit sometime. The view from the terrace is breathtaking, and the balcony wall is very sturdy for… activities.” She squeezed my leg and I cleared my throat.
Again, the invitation was clear. And again, I didn’t pursue it.
What the hell was wrong with me? A gorgeous, successful woman was practically propositioning me, and all I could think about was whether Anica had managed to book that couple who’d been wavering about their date at the expo. And whether she’d gotten home safely. And if she’d eaten anything besides that sandwich I’d bought her and the protein bar she’d mentioned. I wondered what flavor she liked, or if there was a certain brand.
We arrived at the restaurant, where the maître d’ recognized me immediately and showed us to the best table on the terrace. The view was indeed spectacular, the lights of the city spread out before us like scattered diamonds on black velvet.
“This is lovely,” Angelina said, her voice warm with appreciation. “Thank you for bringing me here, Callan.”
“I’m glad you suggested the place,” I said with a smile.
The conversation flowed easily enough as we ordered drinks and appetizers. Angelina was intelligent and well-spoken, with interesting insights on the tech industry and philanthropy. On paper, she was perfect. In person, she was perfectly pleasant.
