Page 58 of A Love Song for Dreamers

I nod. “It’s great.” I make a note to get Pen a bottle as I lift my glass to him before taking a long sip, letting the flavors play over my tongue. “But dinner was amistake.”

He glances around, as if suddenly unsure of what’shappening.

“You can take your funding and your contacts and your threats and go fuck yourself. Yourself and every other person in Manhattan if you like. But you won’t be fucking me, in bed or out ofit.”

I drain the last sip of wine before setting the glass back on thetable.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I turn on my heel and head out toward the front of therestaurant.

I’m pissed—pissed at his nerve, even if I shouldn’t be surprised byit.

I don’t regret what I did, but I can’t shake the feeling that it could costme.

Ian’s not bluffing. He has the contacts to make my life easier orharder.

I’ll deal with it. I’ve dealt with everything else that’s come my way. This project is too important to go down because ofhim.

I pass the separate bar area of the hotel flanked by floor-to-ceiling glass windows and chrome chandeliers. My gaze catches on a man in a black sport coat and jeans at thebar.

My steps slow and I change directions, cutting a straight path for him. “What are you doing here?” I ask as I pull up next tohim.

Tyler turns at the sound of myvoice.

His gaze drops down my body, eyes warming with appreciation. “I couldn’t stop you from coming. But I could come withyou.”

He turns a crystal lowball glass filled with ice and clear liquid in one hand, eyes crinkling with satisfaction and something likeamusement.

A moment ago, all I wanted was to get out of this restaurant, but his presence is like an escape valve, a lifepreserver.

“How’s dinner?” he goes on as if this is a completely normalsituation.

“Well.” I shift in next to him at the bar and drum my fingers on the surface. “I found an amazing redwine.”

I tell him the name, and he nods to the bartender for twoglasses.

“And the company?” Tyler presses as he turns back to me, his gaze moreserious.

“It’s rapidlyimproving.”

I lift the wine and hold it out to him in a toast. He grins as he clinks his glass lightly with mine, and my heart kicks in mychest.

The wine tastes delicious on my tongue, comfort down mythroat.

“I’m guessing the fact that you’re here instead of with him doesn’t bode well for yourshow.”

“It does not,” I concede. “But I will figure it out. I alwaysdo.”

“Yes, you do. And I have a gift foryou.”

I’m intrigued even before he pushes a paper bag down thebar.

“Is it millions of dollars?” Iquip.

“Better.”

I open it and peer inside, the scent of potatoes and oil making my stomach growl. “Oh my God. Cheesefries.”

“From the diner near that comedy club we used to like. I watched you through the glass for the last ten minutes,” he admits. “Didn’t see you pick up your forkonce.”

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