“What kind of thing is that to say after what we did last night?”
He brushed by her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen—it just did, and I apologize for taking advantage of you like that. You’re my friend, not my girlfriend.”
She chortled. “Hey, don’t apologize. I’m glad it happened! You know we’re alike in more ways than you care to admit.”
“I ... I don’t think so. Look, I’m not myself since, you know. Last night the booze and misery were talking.”
“We didnottalk. We’re great together. Shit, you gave me thebestIeverhad, even with George and that’s saying something.”
He had nothing profound to say to that either. “Giving it to her,” good or bad, was never his intent; loneliness for or revenge to his ex were to blame. Obviously, Beanz had just helped him get through the night. Wanting to die, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a T-shirt over his head. He’d never felt so low as that moment.
Maybe it was time for an attitude adjustment. Maybe living his best life—not his worst—would be revenge enough. She’d implied that all he cared about was his career with PemberleyCapital. Well then, maybe making her regret not staying beside him in his rise to the top was just desserts. He’d have to think on that, too.
“William, you’re so misunderstanding me. As amazing as it was, I don’t want or need any great romance or gesture from you. I sought that with George and look where it got me—he shit all over me. Like you, I’m through with love. It’s totally overrated.”
“You’re only twenty-two. Maybe one day you’ll meet the right guy and fall in love,” he said, gazing up into her pretty face and hazel eyes.
“Doubtful. Will you?”
“I don’t need it. I’ll be fine on my own.” He groaned, dragging a hand across his forehead.
“Boy, she did some number on you.” She shook her head. “Face it, William, she wasn’t right for you.”
“I thought she was, but apparently I was wrong.”
Naked, Beanz stood before him, hands on her hips, making her case. “Look, you may not needlove—some people are perfect without it—but you, more than anyone, will need a hot trophy wife for business and ... children, of course. Maybe you’ll want hot monkey sex in the middle of the night without all the emotional crap that goes with it, or maybe you just want someone to go to the theater with or to Peter Luger’s for a steak and cocktail. I can give you whatever you want, and you can be assured, I willneverseek your heart or give you mine. I’m not now nor will I ever be in love with you. You’re too much of a grouch.”
“How nice.”
“It’s a promise. We’re emotionally safe from the other’s hang-ups and all the starry-eyed trappings that inevitably end in a broken heart.”
“You can’t guarantee that. I thoughtshewas safe, too.”
“Icanguarantee that. Look, maybe you’re not romantic partner material, but you have needs and your father has ridiculously insane expectations.”
Thathurt—not that he planned on falling in love again but because his childhood friend was cutting into the empty hole where his heart once occupied, implying he wasn’tdeservingof love or even unlovable to begin with. After the dissection he received from the supposed love of his life, a man could only take so much rejection. Hell, he may not have been partner material yesterday—or today—but maybe one day ... Nah. Although unkind, Beanz was right.
Like war, what was love good for? Absolutely nothing. “What are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m saying we should forge an agreement between friends. A pact. Not immediate, but maybe to take place a year from now when you’ve recovered from the bitch.”
She wasn’t a bitch, she just convinced herself that she wanted a different direction in life—without him, somewhere in Paris.
Walking to him, Beanz stopped between his legs. Her pebbled nipple inches from his mouth repulsed him.
“Let me think about it,” he said, attempting to set her back from him, but instead she reached down between his legs.
“Think about it while we have one last go before things go back to the way they were ...friend.”
He removed her hand from his dick. “Get dressed. Last night was an anomaly that will never happen again.”
She pouted, giving those puppy eyes she was famous for. “Just once more?”
“No.” He stood. “Things have to change, and I can’t thank you enough for opening my eyes to seeing that I’m off the rails.” Walking to the bathroom, he said, “See yourself out. I gotta get myself together and get out of here.”
Again, she snorted, “You’re hungover. Where could you possibly go at one in the afternoon? The liquor store?”
“Not funny. I need a triple espresso, and then I’m going to work. Let’s plan to meet up on Wednesday with my answer about your crazy proposition.” He’d made a pact, once before—with his ex—and that was all blown to shit now.
