Gabriella

“What was that about?” Colette gives me a curious look as we carry the unused documents and folders back to the marketing department. “You two looked all cozy over there.”

I debate whether to tell her. It’s not a big deal and I don’t want her to make a fuss. But I can’t deny that talking to him has lit a flame inside me. “He asked me out for a drink tonight,” I admit.

Her mouth forms an O, and she looks as if she’s about to squeal.

“I’m not going,” I add hastily.

Her look of triumph turns into incredulity. “What? You have to go!”

“I really don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because of, oh my God, where do I start? I keep telling you, I don’t want a relationship. I’m leaving soon. And he’s… well, you know.”

“Gorgeous? Sexy? Loaded?”

“Well, yes, but he’s also one of those men.”

She frowns and punches the button to call the elevator. “What men?”

“Come on, it’s obvious. The type who use women. Who sleep with them and then don’t call them the next morning.”

“If you don’t want a long-term relationship, why do you want him to call you the next morning?”

I stare at her. She just shrugs. The elevator dings, and we go into the carriage. There are a couple of young guys already in there, but they move aside to let us in. Colette pushes the button for the floor below, and the doors close.

“Anyway, just because he’s rich and good looking, it doesn’t make him a bastard,” she continues as if there’s nobody in there with us. The guys exchange amused looks. I blush and glare at her, but she either doesn’t see the glare or doesn’t care. “He’s nice, Gaby. Cocky, yeah. Totally focused on work, just like Sebastian. They get impatient, these men, because the women they meet in the clubs have no idea how hard they work and expect too much from them. These guys are feral, you know? You can’t tame them, and you’d be an idiot even to try. But they will come up to you and eat from your hand if you offer them the right tidbit.”

One of the young guys chuckles. I think he works in the mailroom. “Not you, Jack,” Colette states as the doors slide open. “You need to start shaving first.”

He gives her the finger, and she laughs and walks out.

I follow her down to the large marketing office, and we place the folders on the table. Colette starts sorting them into piles, and I help her.

“So?” she asks.

“Sew buttons.”

“So… are you going out for a drink with Harry?”

“No!” I slap a folder onto the pile. “Absolutely not. Well, probably not. Maybe. Possibly. I’m thinking about it.”

“I’m glad you’ve made your mind up.”

I give her a pained look. “I can’t. It’s difficult to explain.”

“Aw, come on, you can talk to me. I won’t tell anyone.”

I hesitate and square up the folders. I’ve lost touch with most of my girlfriends since leaving high school, and I’ve changed jobs a few times, so I haven’t developed any lasting friendships. I’ve told Colette that Alex cheated on me, and that’s why I broke up with him. I haven’t told her the worst part—I haven’t told anyone. But she’s probably the closest I’ve got to a confidante, and it might be nice to talk.

“Don’t laugh,” I tell her, “but Alex is the only guy I’ve been with.”

She stares at me. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six. But I was only sixteen when I met Alex. I’ve never dated anyone else. I thought he was The One, you know? I thought I was going to be with him for the rest of my life.” I swallow hard. When will I stop feeling as if someone’s stabbing me in the stomach whenever I think about him?

“In that case,” Colette declares, “you definitely need Harrison Grant to screw you senseless.”

“Colette!” Just the thought of it makes me feel faint. To let Harrison kiss me, touch me, take off my clothes and see me naked… Mustard seeds, paprika… I blow out a long breath. “I couldn’t! Men like Harrison go out with women who do stuff.”

“Stuff?” she echoes, amused.

“You know, sexy stuff. Girls who are Experienced with a capital E, who’ve had multiple partners, who’ve learned how to please a guy a thousand different ways.”

“It only takes one way,” she says, “but I think I know what you mean.”

“I’m just not that kind of girl.”

“You don’t like sex?”

“I love sex!” I say it a little too loud, and a couple of the marketing assistants look over with a grin. I lower my voice hastily. “It’s like I’ve only ever had vanilla ice cream. Being with Harrison would be like standing in front of a hundred different flavors, with twenty different sauces and fifty toppings. How the hell would I know which ones he’d like?”

“He’d like all of them,” she advises. “He’s a guy.”

“Colette…”

“Alex only liked vanilla?”

“Well, you know, maybe he’d occasionally like a bit of strawberry or Rocky Road. But when I suggested chocolate sauce, it freaked him out, and as for sprinkles…”

Colette tries not to laugh. “Sweetie, you’re overthinking it. Normally, guys enjoy showing you what they like. They find it a turn on. It appeals to the Neanderthal inside them. You know—me man, you woman, me show you how to bend over…”

At the thought of bending over for Harrison, I feel dizzy and flop into the nearest chair.

“Jesus, you’ve gone as white as a sheet,” Colette says with alarm. “Put your head between your knees.”

I do so, taking deep breaths. “I’m sorry, I must sound like such an idiot.”

“Of course not.” She drops to her haunches beside me, and to my relief, her eyes are kind. “I think it’s terribly romantic that you’ve only been with one guy—it just sucks that he turned out to be such a fucking orangutan.”

I laugh. “That’s an insult to the great apes.”

“Yeah. What I mean is, it’s not a problem. You really think Harry’s going to say, ‘you’ve only been with one guy—jeez, get away from me’? Of course he isn’t. You tell him that you want him to show you what he likes, and his head will explode.”

“I’d like to believe you…”

“Do you like him?” she asks.

I straighten in the chair. “Yes.”

“Do you think sleeping with him sounds like something you might enjoy?”

“Let me think about it while I hyperventilate into a brown paper bag.”

She laughs. “Why don’t you let me go and see him for you? I’ll set you up on a date. Remember, you don’t have to do anything. If you go for a drink and you decide you can’t go through with it, you just say thanks for a nice evening and go home.”

“Won’t he be angry if he’s expecting more?”

“Harry doesn’t do angry. He’s a pussycat. Okay, he’s more like a big cat, a tiger, or a panther, but honestly, he’s one of the good guys. He wouldn’t mind.”

I chew my lip. Dare I go through with it?

I think of Alex. I gave him my heart, and he took it, spat on it, then threw it on the floor and stomped on it. I don’t owe him anything.

I have the chance to have sex with the most gorgeous guy in the office, if not the city, if not the world. He likes me. He wants to sleep with me. Am I really having to think twice about it?

“All right,” I say cautiously. “Tell me I’m not going to regret it.”

“Ohhh,” she says with a triumphant smile, “I’d bet every cent I own that regret would not be one of the emotions you’d feel if Harry took you home.”