"You don't have to plan an excursion to meet a man." She smooths the side seam on the skirt of my black dress. "They're everywhere. At the museums, Times Square, hell, you can even meet a man on the subway. Tell me the last place you saw an attractive man."
"At the gym," I blurt out without thinking.
That's what happens when I have Smith Booth on the brain.
"What did he look like?"
Like every dream I had when I was a teenager.
"He has black hair and brown eyes," I confess.
"I bet he has a body like my Morty did back in the day. I called him the Drill Sergeant." She leans in closer dropping her voice to a whisper. "It wasn't because of his time in the Army."
Silence fills the space. I'm stunned and she looks lost in thoughts about the man Mr. Pentlow used to be.
"That's a story for another day," she finally says. "Make a move the next time you see that fellow at the gym. You never know where it will go."
I know exactly where it will go. If I make a move on Smith Booth it will be a knee to his groin. He'll hit the floor and I'll walk away feeling completely satisfied.
CHAPTER FOUR
Smith
Julian Bishop,wearing an expensive tailored suit and sporting a five hundred dollar haircut, can't keep his eyes off a curvy dark haired woman who just walked into the restaurant. That, in itself, isn't a big deal. She's cute. She's also not the woman he's been involved with for the past few years.
"Do you know her?" I finally ask because someone has to break the trance he's in, and since we're the only two at this table, that job falls on my shoulders. I need to hit the hay in an hour. I don't have room in my schedule to wait around while Julian mentally undresses the petite woman wearing the red dress. I need to order dinner now if I have any hope in hell of making my self-imposed curfew.
"Maya Baker," he says her name without looking away from her. "We met last year."
Julian's not the fuck and tell type. I'm going to read between the lines and assume met is code for screwed senseless.
"Looks like Maya's on a date," I point out because I'm an asshole like that. Besides, the minute hand is inching closer tolights out for me. I need his undivided attention so I can ask about his sister.
"So it seems." He follows Maya and her date as they casually hold hands and walk across the restaurant. "What do you think he does for a living?"
I know exactly how he earns a paycheck. Julian's crush is having dinner with Everett Faulkner, the most widely sought after criminal defense attorney in the country. I interviewed him two weeks ago. My competition on the other networks called it a coup. I called it a favor. Everett owed me and I cashed that ticket in by asking for a sit-down, live on air, at eight a.m. last Monday. He was happy to oblige.
He gave me insight into the case he recently won. His defense of a senator's son accused of murder was brilliant.
"That's Everett Faulkner." I sip from the tumbler of whiskey I ordered. "I take it you know about the Carney case."
"That's Everett Faulkner?" He whips his head back to look at me, curiosity knitting his brow. "His work is impressive. No one thought he'd get an acquittal for Bert Carney."
Irritation brews within me. I didn't invite Julian to dinner to discuss this. I had one goal in mind when I suggested he meet me at Nova, my favorite restaurant in Manhattan.
I want to know what's happening in Brynn's world. I'm looking for insight into the life of the woman I saw yesterday. I need to nip this off topic discussion we're having in the bud now.
I should have gone with my gut instinct and asked the research department at the show to find her number. Hell, I know it's crossing a line, but it would have been a more efficient use of my time.
"I'll introduce you." I let out a sigh. I'm pulling from personal experience here. If roles were reversed and one of my past hook-ups walked in with a dude I didn't know, I'd bow out of theintroductions. Shaking the hand of a man currently fucking a woman I once had my dick in, is not high on my to-do list.
Julian may see it differently, but I'm hoping the offer will put the issue of Maya Baker to rest.
"That's not necessary," he says right on cue as he turns back toward me. "I don't want to disturb them. The last I heard Maya was dating a doctor. I'm surprised that's over."
I can't resist the obvious question. I don't judge anyone else's life choices, but my curiosity is gnawing at the corner of my brain. I know it's not going to shut up, so I need to ditch the idea of getting to sleep at a decent hour.
"Did you hook up with her when the doctor was in the picture?"
