Nara

Of course I ended up being late for my date with…what was his name? Oh yeah, Brodie something-or-other. My team and I had been presenting Mommy Knows to some beta test customers, who were going to try it out for us on their babies. I’d lost track of time, and Mimi was off doing something else so hadn’t been there to rein me in. Not many people get as enthusiastic as we do when it comes to talking about dirty diapers. It was a rare skill.

Luckily, Bella Stella was right around the corner from our offices. Actually, that’s why I’d chosen it. I’d spent the money “buying” the date, so I figured I could pick the location. The guy hadn’t had any objections; he’d just replied to my invitation with an okay. I just hoped that during our time together, which I was going to make sure was short and sweet, he had something a little more interesting to say than that.

Because the restaurant was right around the corner from my office, the staff there knew me. It was our “place” when we wanted an after work drink or when we had investors to take to lunch. The food was good enough, like most Italian joints in the city, and when you went there often, it felt like home.

Before slipping inside, I straightened out my skirt and smoothed down my hair. I don’t know why, but I wanted to look nice. I also wanted to get the date over with so I could say I’d done it, and have something to report to Page Six. I wasn’t going to give this guy the chance to say he’d been “bought” by some disheveled woman with lipstick on her teeth.

I slipped inside, tucking myself next to a booth by the door, staring at the back of a solo man at the bar. I figured it was him. The manager nodded to me from the kitchen where he was involved in cooking something amazing smelling. I supposed they got a lot of first dates at Bella Stella in this day and age of online hookups. They’d probably seen it all.

He leaned on the bar, nursing some type of brown liquor. Probably a scotch, like every other master of the universe-wannabee in New York. His hair was nice and thick—I’d give him that—and he was wearing a suit. I guessed it was expensive from the fit.

Oh shit, he turned around and looked right at me.

Busted.

But strangely, he just turned back to the bar. Maybe he hadn’t seen me? He looked at his watch and took another sip of his drink.

I waited longer. Of course, it was rude to be late, but I was curious and relished the thought of having someone I was quite sure was overly impressed with himself wait for little old me.

At twelve minutes after the hour—late, but not hideously so—I approached him. He turned at the sound of my clicking high heels, and I put on my best hey-how-ya-doin smile.

I hadn’t realized how good-looking he was until I got closer.

“My date, I presume?” I extended my hand.

He looked surprised as hell as he studied my face and hair. What was that all about? Did I look that bad? My hand flew up to check my hair. “I’m Nara Kincaid.”

“Hello, Nara, I’m Brodie Harcourt.” He stood and took my hand as I climbed onto the barstool next to his. Chalk one up for good manners. And good lord, he was tall.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. I spotted what I knew was a fancy watch. Some of the investors we’d met with wore the same, but I couldn’t tell what kind it was.

“Excuse me, I’m just gonna respond to my admin’s text.” He typed a couple words and set the device face down on the old wooden bar.

The bartender, who obviously knew me well, delivered a glass of pink bubbly.

He turned to Brodie, “Sir? Would you like a second Macallan?”

I knew it.

He nodded and turned back to me. “So, Nara, I have to be honest with you. I was expecting a redhead.”

I couldn’t help but belt out a laugh. “Oh, right! My assistant got to the auction before I did and bid on my behalf. I was running late. In fact, I asked her to handle this date for me, but she wouldn’t have any part of it.”

Oh shit. Did I just say that?

He smiled. Or was that a smirk? “And why’d you do that? Try to get her to take the date for you?”

Ugh.

“Oh gosh, I didn’t mean any offense. It’s just that I’m so busy—”

“Do you have a boyfriend or something? A husband?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” I sputtered. Simon didn’t count. Did he?

“No?” Now I could really read his face, and it was definitely amused. Glad I could be entertaining.

I yammered on. “You know, I mean, I didn’t want to do this silly date thing. Who would? I’m happy to support the Avenue A homeless shelter, but Mrs. Dolan twisted my arm to bid on a date. I mean, who bids on a guy in a freaking auction?” Ugh. Stop talking. Now.

His mouth dropped open, but he snapped it shut just as quickly. Jesus, what was wrong with me? I sucked down my drink and waved the bartender over for another glass of bubbly. Anything to keep from talking.

Brodie nodded slowly as if some profound understanding had washed over him. Like he’d realized I’m a big, huge bitch.

Christ.

“Look, I’m sorry. That was rude. I don’t know why I said that.” My phone buzzed. Mimi! I texted her back.

b there soon just finishing up

I’d leave early. Who cared? I’d already done all the damage I could. And this was a big city. I’d never see the guy again.

But then there was the Page Six story. And possibly some free publicity for Mommy Knows. There were a lot of moms out there who were tired of sniffing their kid’s butt…

And he was damn handsome, in that chiseled, dark-eyed, Ralph Lauren model sort of way. But it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be seeing him after this one time. Although I did feel a little twinge in my core…

“So Mrs. Dolan strong armed you?” he asked.

“Yes, she did. Is that how she got you, too?” I was trying to keep my words to a minimum. No more verbal diarrhea if I could help it.

He sipped his scotch. “Oh yeah. I’ve known her a long time.”

“No kidding! She’s a little cutie, isn’t she? How do you know her?”

He looked down for a sec.

“Old family friend,” he said, looking back up. “How do you know her?”

“My company volunteers several times a year at the shelter. They invited me to a fundraising meeting, and I met her there.” I laughed. “She sank her claws into me pretty hard and hasn’t let go.”

The smile returned to his face. “She’s like that, isn’t she?” His phone vibrated on the bar, but he ignored it. “What kind of company do you work for?”

“A small tech firm called Mommy Knows.”

“Mommy Knows…I can’t say I know that one. What’s the product?” Of course, he didn’t know about it. He wasn’t a parent saddled with poopy diapers.

“We have a software app. It links to a mom’s—or dad’s—iPhone and lets them know when their kid has a dirty diaper. So instead of waiting for the baby to start crying, you know right away. You can even have babysitters use it.”

His eyes widened. Then he threw his head back and laughed. I couldn’t blame him. The concept always sounded absurd at first. But explain it to any parent of a kid in diapers, and there was immediate understanding. It was like lights turning on. One mom I had explained it to had actually gotten tears in her eyes.

“Wow. That’s quite a concept. What do you do there?”

“I’m the founder and CEO.”

His eyes widened again. I was familiar with this part…“You’re kidding!”

“Yup. I’m a software developer.” Here it comes…

“You’re a tech CEO. Wow! But you look so…”

“Yeah, I know.” I was wearing my usual black pencil skirt, silk blouse, and sky-high pumps. On the other hand, most of my staff usually looked like they’d just rolled out of bed.

“How’d you come up with the concept? Do you have kids?”

My hand flew to my chest in mock horror. “God, no! I’d seen other moms sniffing their kid’s diapers to see if they needed changing. I thought that was just gross, and I wanted to come up with a better solution.”

“So you’re a software developer.” I noticed him sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Yup. Sure am.” Mimi would be expecting me, but I couldn’t sneak a look at my watch. Too rude.

“What about you, Brodie? How’d you end up as one of Mrs. Dolan’s victims?”

“Mrs. Dolan used to do charity work with my dad.”

I nodded. “Well, that was a gorgeous hotel, wasn’t it?”

He nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, thank you.”

“What do you mean, thank you?” I asked.

“That was my hotel. Hotel Vertigo.”

Now it was my turn to be surprised.

“No kidding! Great place.” It really had been quite beautiful. And elegant.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding. “It’s been in the family for a long time. My dad’s no longer involved, so I’m in charge now. We’re doing okay for ourselves.”

So he was a hotelier. That was no pretty boy job. He probably worked his ass off and did long hours, holidays, weekends. Well, well.

But still. Didn’t one have to be conceited to be auctioned for charity?

Just then, my phone chirped. It knew it was Mimi, letting me know it was time to excuse myself and go.

Only I wasn’t ready yet.