Page 9 of The Singles Club
I set down my glass, raising an eyebrow. “How about we make this interesting?”
“What are the terms?”
“If I get his number, the loser pays the tab.”
“Too boring, I get your coveted vintage Chanel 2.55 quilted handbag.”
“And if I get his number, I win your favorite hot pink Hermès Clic-H bag… unless, of course, you’re too scared that I’ll proveyouwrong...”
Isabella twisted her mouth, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “But you might just tell him you want his number for business reasons. So for this bet, you have to get him to go on a date with you.”
“Give me one week, and that will happen.”
Isabella grinned and held out her hand. “You have yourself a deal.”
I shook it and took one more gulp of my drink. “Watch and learn, ladies.” I stood and smoothed out my skirt before heading over.
There was aReservedsign on the bar in front of an empty seat next to his. I would have preferred squeezing in and having physical contact, but this would have to do. He was thumbing through his phone with a snifter glass in front of him, probably a brandy. His whole persona came off as a little older than he was… but that jawline was classic and would never go out of style.
“Excuse me?” I said in a sweet, approachable tone. He didn’t hear me. Good. Now I could get closer. I gently reached for his arm. “Excuse me?”
He flinched at my touch and looked directly into my eyes. “May I help you?”
I hesitated at first, my hypothalamus kicking into gear. His eyes were light, not quite green, not quite brown. Hazel, I think. And they were quite intoxicating.
Okay, just the drugs releasing into my system. The physical attraction on my end was definitely there.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s taking forever to get a drink. Would you mind if I squeezed in here for a minute?”
He barely smiled and gestured to the reserved seat. “Be my guest.”
Before I got out my thanks, he was already back to reading something on his phone.
“Have you been here before?” I asked.
The muscle in his jaw feathered, and I could see him breathing deep through his nose. He was mildly annoyed. “I have.”
Time to bring out the big guns and go for the element of surprise.
“Let me guess, women tend to hit on you often, and you’re really tired of it.”
Aha. There was the smile I was looking for, small, but still a smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m not interested.” I leaned closer as if to whisper. “Honestly, my friends picked you out and bet that I couldn’t get your number. I assured them I would.”
He still didn’t look my way. “Clever line.”
“It isn’t really, one of them works for you.”
He set his phone down and turned my way. “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Isabella, would it?”
“Isabella Lopez, executive assistant to her workaholic, yet pretty decent boss, Justin Cooper.”
“So, I’m just pretty decent, eh?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And what else does she say about me?”
