Page 56 of The Grumpy Billionaire
Reid lifted a hand and waved to someone behind me. I turned to see a middle-aged guy on the deck of the neighboring yacht.
“Good morning, folks,” he called.
I forced a squinty grin for him then turned back to Reid. “Not with you.”
“Come on, Mara. A few more minutes. I’ve got to head in to work in a little while anyway. It’ll be nice to have some company for breakfast for a change.”
“Oh, so you don’t ply over-tired women with alcohol and anti-motion-sickness pills often, then?”
He grinned at my unmistakable annoyance. “If I wanted overnight company, it’spossibleI could find a woman Iwouldn’thave to drug.”
My fingers clenched into fists at my side. “Well, maybe you should do that then. I certainly won’t be spending the night again.”
“Hold on.” Reid stood. “I’ll get your purse and jacket for you. And I’ll see you tonight after work—seven o’clock dinner still good for you?”
So smug.
“No—it isn’t good for me,” I snarled.
In fact, it will likely be very, very bad for me to spend another evening with you.
“But I’ll be there, since I have no choice.”
“Great.” He grinned, seeming unaffected by my surly attitude. “Waterplace Park Condominiums. The condo number is on your itinerary.”
He retrieved my things, and I snatched them without a thank you, irritated at his sunny morning-person attitude. I stomped down the ramp and toward my car without a glance back in his direction.
Why did every meeting I had with Reid end with him smiling and me running away?
* * *
“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” Heidi asked.
I’d called her from the car on the way home because I wasn’t sure I could avoid spontaneous combustion a second longer if I didn’t vent.
“I’m supposed to meet him at his condo at seven. There’s a Waterfire tonight, so maybe it has something to do with that.”
“Ooh, Waterfire,” Heidi gushed. “I remember that from when I was at Brown. It’s about the only good memory I’ve been able to hold onto from being there.”
Heidi had spent the first half of her freshman year at Brown University in Providence, and it had ended very badly, to say the least.
She’d met the world’s most prolific player, promptly fell in love with him, and he’d cheated on her in record-setting, spectacular fashion. She’d run back home to Georgia where it had taken her years to pull herself out of the resulting tailspin.
I left the Eastport Bay Yachting Center parking lot, fighting the urge to look back at the harbor for Reid’s boat.
“Yeah, well if Reid’s counting on Waterfire’s romantic setting to soften me up for the interview, he’s mistaken. He’s really been pulling out all the stops—no doubt he wants me to see what an amazing condo I passed up on, too.”
“Are you sure that’s what he’s doing—showing off? Because it seems to me like he’s wooing you,” she said.
“Wooing?”
“Yes—trying to make you fall in love with him—or slip and admit that you still love him.”
I barked out a sharp laugh. “Likethat’sgoing to happen.”
“What would be so bad if it did?”
I opened my mouth to recite the long list of reasons why it would be so bad when my other line beeped.
