Page 30 of A Billion Dollar Romance
“Details, friend, details.” I rolled my eyes, but Charlie just leaned back in his chair, gesturing with his hand.One more drink.
Ryan nodded at the bartender, standing behind the brass-railed mahogany bar along the short end of the long room. We had taken up our usual spot, a foursome of leather club chairs surrounding a low coffee table occupied by a small collection of our empty glasses and plates that held the remainder of our olives and peanuts.
“There’s not much more to tell,” Charlie demurred, glancing at me as the bartender brought over a fresh Old Fashioned. “Samantha was there, too, and hogged the conversation talking about books.”
“Imagine, talking about books inmy office. AtVerity. Apublishing house.”
“I know,” he grinned. “Can you believe her?”
“When are you going to get her out of your system, Charlie?” asked Barrett with a smirk, and Charlie held up one hand, recoiling.
“I’m sorry, do you want my dick to freeze off?”
“Come on,” Ryan cut in, “details, man.”
“Well,” said Charlie, seriously. “Since you asked. It’s about fourteen inches. Above-average girth–”
“You wish,” said Barrett, laughing, and I groaned and covered my face.
“I don’t want to hear about your dick, Charlie,” Ryan whined. “I asked abouther. Evie.”
“Edie,” I corrected. “And you’ll all meet her at the fundraiser tomorrow. Sorry, Charlie, your spotlight’s getting cut off.”
“At least there will be something to look forward to,” Barrett said, frowning.
Ryan took a sip of his drink, a beer. No cocktails for Dad, he had to be cogent if Maddie got up in the middle of the night needing water. “Hey, I seem to remember you had a lot of fun at last year’s,” he said, smiling.
“We don’t talk about last year’s,” Barrett and I said in unison.
“And you wonder why your team thinks your image needs a makeover, Jamie,” Charlie laughed.
I closed my eyes tight, trying to block out what memories I had from last year’s fundraiser.
“This year,” I said, with conviction. “This year will be different.”
* * *
This year was different. I felt it as soon as we stepped into the large, domed atrium, decorated tastefully in fresh flowers and sparkling with the city’s elite.
Edie on my arm.
Flowers and socialites alike appeared stale and overdone compared to her.
“What are we fundraising for?” she whispered to me through a taut smile. “I can’t believe I never thought to ask.”
“They’re tearing down this place,” a grand old library, “to build a condo. Raising funds for the swimming pool.”
Her jaw dropped, feet coming to a stop so abruptly I feared for the people behind us.
“I’m kidding,” I chuckled, and her mouth clamped shut, eyes narrowing. “It’s for the ballet.”
“That’snotfunny, James.”
“I was, a little,” I said. “The look on your face…”
“I’mtryingto lookelegant,” she said, tilting her chin up. The effect was spoiled by her slight pout. I wanted to bite that lip. She did look elegant in her floor-length silk gown, but more than anything I wanted to replace the smooth fabric with my own hands, to feel the fluid lines of her body under my touch, to run my fingers though the soft waves of her curled hair, to slot my mouth against hers–
“You look beautiful,” I said. “Very elegant. And don’t worry, these people aren’t so elegant themselves.” I had spotted my brother, weaving his way through the crowd toward the two of us. “Charlie,” I nodded as he came to a stop in front of us. “You remember Edie. Edie, my brother, Charlie.”
