Blake woke up early to the sound of Puppy scratching on the bedroom door. It took him several seconds to remember why the dog wasn’t sleeping with him, and why instead there was an arm around him and a body pressed up against his hip. Drea stirred in her sleep then and it all came rushing back to him—the amazing evening together, the sex, the postcoital confessions. The pinball.
He had to stifle the moan of pleasure that burst at the memory.
Carefully, he extricated himself from Drea’s grasp and got up. The dog had probably already piddled on the floor somewhere, so he really could have stayed in bed longer. But he needed a chance to think without the sight of the beautiful naked woman beside him. Puppy was a good excuse to slip away with his thoughts.
He slipped on a robe and slippers then headed downstairs to let the dog out and pour some coffee. Ellen had set the timer before she’d left the day before, as she always did, and when he emptied the pot, he refilled it for Drea. His housekeeper had also made an egg casserole that he could just heat up. Usually he would dish a small portion and nuke it, but since he wanted to make sure his guest was fed as well, he put the whole serving dish in the oven.
By six fifteen on a Monday morning, Blake had done more domestic activities in a day than he had in a whole month before. Surprisingly, it hadn’t killed him. In fact he somewhat enjoyed knowing that his actions were meant to take care of someone else. Especially when that someone else was a person he cared for.
After Puppy had completed his business in the backyard and was happily munching on his food, Blake took his coffee and headed for his office. He chose the space not only out of habit, but because it was his sanctuary, and hence the best place to get some serious contemplation in. On an average day, he’d bring the paper to read, but he didn’t even grab it from the front porch. The news in his own life was enough to occupy him for quite a while.
Still, at his desk he found that he had so much to think about, he didn’t know where to begin. His eyes settled on a stack of folders that hadn’t been there the last time he’d sat there. They must have been the files Andrea had brought over. He’d completely forgotten about them.
Absentmindedly, he removed the elastic band that bound them together. He flipped through the files, reading the labels. RESTAURANTS, CURRENT MOVIE SCHEDULES, LOCAL THEATER. At the bottom, he found the file of the woman he’d been dating. JANE OSBORNE. It had been his first date after he and Drea had started their extracurricular activities, and honestly—Oh, who was he kidding?
Even back then every profile he read seemed flat, every picture the same as the last. For weeks he’d been more interested in gazing in the eyes of the woman who shared his office than in flipping through the head shots of attractive strangers. He’d often ask more questions than he needed just so he could listen to Drea’s voice. Just so he could have an excuse to engage with her.
Continuing that string of horrible dates with the most boring woman alive was convenient. Jane Osborne—he circled the name on her file. It was nice, not having to make awkward small talk on a hundred first dates. But the slightly easier small talk he had with Jane was nothing compared with the banter he had with Andrea. He couldn’t admit it at the time, too stubborn to look at the truth staring him in the face, but it was there all the same.
Now he was as desperate to shout it to the world as he was to deny it before—he was in love with Andrea Dawson.
He repeated the words in his mind, letting the statement settle in his soul. I am in love with Andrea Dawson. Completely, utterly, undeniably in love.
The most surprising part of the whole thing was how un-shocked he was at the revelation. He should have been reeling. Should have been tearing his hair out. Yet he’d never felt more calm.
Wasn’t that something?
He sipped his beverage and thought about what this revelation meant for the future. Could he really be considering what he was considering? Andrea didn’t fit any of the requirements he’d listed for a wife, yet it didn’t feel like she had any qualities that were missing. He was strongly attracted to her physically—the semi he had at that very moment from thinking about her was proof. She talked a lot, but that was fine. He actually enjoyed listening to every word that came out of her pretty mouth. Well, almost every word—sometimes she could be awfully pointed with her observations about him, but only with things he needed to hear.
She didn’t cook or clean. So what? They had Ellen. When Ellen retired, they’d find someone else. And if Drea wanted to keep working, so be it. He’d actually prefer having her at Donovan InfoTech where he could see her all day long. Or if she wanted to do something else, that was fine, too. It didn’t matter what she did all day, just as long as she was happy and there to come home to at the end of it.
That was really what it all came down to—he wanted Andrea in his life. Permanently. And not as a matchmaker, but as his match.
Was that entirely ridiculous? No. Not entirely. He had planned on getting married, after all. He just hadn’t planned on the falling-in-love part. But other people didn’t plan on it, either, and all the time they were getting married and living happily ever after. That it had happened to him as well was unexpected, but not ridiculous.
What was entirely ridiculous was that he wanted to marry Andrea now. Well, not now now; even he saw the inconvenience in running away to Vegas on a moment’s notice. And the talk that went around couples who eloped—it just wouldn’t be fair to Andrea. But he did want to propose as soon as possible. As in today.
Blake’s palms grew sweaty and his pulse ticked up a notch.
Could he do really do that? Propose spontaneously without any forethought or premeditation? Maybe he could wait. He should wait.
He pulled out a desk drawer and retrieved the beloved copy of his five-year plan. It was worn and faded, and, honestly, he had every step memorized. Still, he studied it now. The document assumed a six-month engagement after an equally long courtship, and then a moderate-sized wedding with a budget not to exceed one month’s salary. Sure he’d been sleeping—or not sleeping—with Andrea for weeks now, but he’d say the courting hadn’t officially started until the night before. Nowhere on the agenda was there an allowance for proposing after a one-night dating period. Nowhere was there an allowance for falling in love with his matchmaker. Nowhere was there an allowance for Andrea.
And that was unacceptable.
If there was no Andrea in his plans, then to hell with his plans.
Without another thought, he tore the document in half. Then in half again. And then again and again until the entire thing was nothing but shreds that he tossed in his trash can. Instead of feeling terrified or anxious as he would have supposed that he’d feel, he felt liberated. Because of her—that woman still sleeping in his bed—because of her he was a changed man. Changed for the better. He didn’t need to map everything out. He could deviate and improvise. He could be his true self instead of hiding away his interests and passions. In fact …
He opened another drawer and pulled out the miniature pinball machine he kept out of sight and set it proudly on his desk, front and center. So long to his old self. He was a new man. A new man who could propose on a whim, if he wanted. And he wanted.
His entire body tingled with his decision, as if he’d been asleep and only now was coming to life. He was going for it, full out. Today his search for a bride would end.
He formulated a new plan—okay, so he still required strategy to his spontaneity; habits die hard, as they say. He had a meeting across town at ten, and Long’s Jewelers didn’t open until nine thirty. That wasn’t enough time for selection, but the general manager was a member of his pinball league. Blake was sure he could call in a favor there. Was six thirty too early to phone him? He’d arrange flowers, of course. Though Drea always recommended roses as the standard, he knew she personally preferred lilies. He could order them, but he’d rather pick some up for her himself. He made a mental note to do that on his way to the office.
Next he needed to set up dinner reservations somewhere fancy. But where?
He found the restaurants file and flipped through the information Drea had gathered. Oleana was too exotic. La Campania, too casual. Hamersley’s, too country. Menton, too pricey.
Wait—pricey was perfect for special occasions. It was perfect for Drea. It was short notice but it was a Monday evening, so his chances of getting in were better. He circled the number with his pen then called the reservation line to leave a message. Since he knew he’d be out all morning, he requested they call his secretary with the confirmation.
Now there was only one thing left to deal with—Jane. He debated whether he should phone the woman now, or later. Later was probably best. He could get away with an early-morning call to his league companion, but Jane Osborne would likely be disappointed by his breakup. Crushed, even. He really didn’t need to deal with tears on such a wonderful day as this.
Maybe he could have his secretary handle the breakup for him …
Even as he thought it he knew that was wrong. Jane had been pleasant enough in all respects. She deserved a softer letdown than that. Besides, Drea would be unimpressed if he didn’t behave as a gentleman. He decided he could squeeze in a quick visit to Jane before dinner with Andrea. Roses would be a nice touch. He’d have his secretary order those and have them sent to the office so he could take them to Jane personally. He shot off an email with the request. Then he opened up Jane’s file and jotted down her address and phone number for later.
Now to set everything else in motion. He called his friend from the jewelers and arranged a pre-store-hours shopping trip for eight thirty. Next, he wrote a note for Andrea. He didn’t agonize over it as much as he thought he would, the words seeming to come with ease:
Good morning, love. I had some things to take care of this morning and then meetings until noon. Keep your lunch free—I’d like to take you out to discuss our profile. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? For the better, I believe. Coffee’s in the pot and breakfast’s in the oven. In case you have no cash, I’ve left you some for a cab.
Yours, B
It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was pretty good for him, he decided. He took the note and snuck back into his bedroom, not wanting to wake the beauty still sleeping there. Quietly, he propped the note on the nightstand on top of a stack of books. Then, noticing her phone on the floor—it must have slipped from her pocket when he’d disposed of her jeans the night before—he set it next to the note. Next, he found his wallet and left a couple of bills on the stand as well.
He had one more task to do concerning Andrea—he needed her ring size. Searching for a measuring device, he settled on the dental floss he kept in the drawer of his nightstand. He ripped off a small piece then, ever so carefully, he uncurled Drea’s sleeping hand and wrapped the floss around her finger. She stirred and he froze. Fortunately, she settled again quickly and he was able to get what he needed. It might not be an entirely accurate measurement, but at least the ring wouldn’t fall off when he slipped it on her finger.
He looked at his watch. He had time still before he was set to be at Long’s Jewelers and a load of nervous energy that needed to be burned off. He’d love to wake up Drea to remedy that, but then all his plans would be disrupted. A stop at the gym would be the better solution. He could shower there as well and not have to worry about disturbing her at all. It took him all of ten minutes to don some exercise clothes and grab a suit to change into. He packed his shoes and socks into his gym bag and he was ready to go.
At the door of his room, he paused to gaze once more at the woman in his bed. She was nothing he’d expected he’d ever be attracted to and yet he was more into her than anything he could imagine. His chest ached with emotion, but it was the very best feeling in the world. He thanked whatever God might exist for bringing her into his world. If all went well, after today, she’d be part of his life for good.
* * *
Andy was awoken by the ringing of her phone. Endless ringing. She tried to ignore it—too sleepy even to think—but the caller was insistent. With eyes still closed, she reached toward the sound. Instead of making contact with her cell, though, she felt her hand knock against a stack of books. And then the books were toppling over. She should probably pick them up. Except the phone had stopped ringing now, so she could worry about the books later.
That was strange—she didn’t keep any books by her bed.
That’s when she remembered where she was. And with who. And what they’d done the night before.
Wow. Had that really happened?
The recollection was enough to make her sit straight up. She was definitely awake now.
Then the phone began ringing again.
With a groan, Andy leaned over the bed and found Puppy chewing on something on the floor. He took off with his prize when she shooed him. Whatever he had, at least it wasn’t her phone. Which was still ringing. She sifted through the pile on the floor until she found her cell. A glance at the screen told her it was Lacy. She pushed the TALK button. “What?”
“Don’t what me. You didn’t come home last night. I need to know that you’re alive.”
Andy should have expected full-on mothering mode. “I’m alive.”
“I hear that now.” There was a slight pause that Andy suspected her sister was using to calm down. “I’m guessing you can’t talk right now…”
Andy glanced at the empty bed next to her. A quick scan of the room and she was sure she was alone. “No, I can talk.” Though she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Lacy would want all the details of Andy’s glorious night with Blake and she wasn’t ready to share just yet.
“So? What happened?” Lacy’s admonishing tone from a moment before had been replaced with eagerness. “I thought there would be no sleepover.”
“I was obviously wrong.” So amazingly wrong.
“Isn’t that against your rules?” There was only the slight hint of I told you so to Lacy’s tone. Which was admirable, considering.
“It is.” Andy thought about the state of things now. “Or it was. I don’t really know if there are rules anymore.” After last night, she had a feeling all bets were off.
“That sounds intriguing. Tell me more.”
Andy opened her mouth to spill the details. Then she closed it again. Was it really fair to be pouring her heart out to her sister when she had so much to say to Blake? Even if it was, the fact was that Andy wanted to talk to Blake first. It was a strange feeling. She’d always shared everything with Lacy. And she still would. She just wanted some time first.
She cradled the phone under her cheek and stretched. “Look, Lacy, I just woke up. I haven’t had coffee. I haven’t even seen Blake yet this morning. Let me get my head functioning and I’ll fill you in later.” She stifled a yawn. “What time is it anyway?”
“About a quarter after eight.”
“Shit!” Andy sat up straight. “I’m never going to make it to work on time.”
Lacy laughed. “I’m sure your boss will accept your tardiness.”
“Let’s hope so. Like I said, I haven’t seen him yet.” There was always the possibility that Blake had decided to go awkward on her. She hoped not. After everything they’d shared it seemed unlikely. But the house was awfully quiet. Where was he?
“Well, get your pretty ass out of bed and go find him. I’m sure he’s just letting you sleep in after an eventful night. Am I right?” Her subtle attempt to pry wasn’t missed by Andy.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll talk to you later, Lacy.”
“Fine,” Lacy said with an exaggerated sigh. “I had a late night myself with my gig and another one this evening so I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you for dinner?”
“You always do.” A part of Andy hoped that maybe her dinner would be spent with Blake. But the thought of dinner reminded her of his date with Jane that night. Would he still go? There was no way she could know without talking to him.
“I always see you at bedtime as well, and I didn’t last night so I think it was a fair question. Dinner, then. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Andy disconnected the call and then noticed the red flashing light indicating her phone’s battery was low. She was amazed it wasn’t dead already since she usually charged it overnight. She tossed it back on the nightstand, stood, and stretched. Her body was delightfully sore. There were muscles she’d forgotten about that burned with the reminder of recent activity. And what fun that activity was.
With a smile on her lips, she bent to pick up the books and things she’d knocked to the ground. There was a Steve Jobs biography—that didn’t surprise her—but the remaining three were detective novels. Not just mysteries—the old-school 1940s kind, full of chain-smoking dolls and hard-drinking private eyes. Another Blake Donovan secret. Her smile widened as she replaced the books on the nightstand plus a couple of twenties that must have been lying on top of the books. How could she not be completely entranced with this self-built millionaire who loved pinball, Downton Abbey, and noir detective novels? The answer was she couldn’t.
The intensity of her adoration was what bewildered her the most. She didn’t merely admire him or find him fascinating. She also felt that other emotion—the one that she’d sworn to her sister was not going to happen, and yet here it was, totally happening in every fiber of her being and not just in the middle of sex. She loved Blake. Like, loved, loved him. Like, could see herself married to him with children and puppies and the whole shebang.
It was a completely exhilarating feeling that warmed her from head to toe, made her giddy like a teenager. It also frightened her a tad bit. But it was the sort of frightening that she was more than willing to face.
She found his T-shirt from the pile of clothing on the floor and threw it on. Eager to be with the man she loved, to kiss him and wrap her arms around his strong form, she set about searching for him. With Puppy at her heels, she peeked first in his office. Finding that empty, she followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen, assuming that was a good place to start. No Blake. But she found a mug and poured herself a cup before resuming her hunt.
She wandered the rest of the floor, calling his name with no answer. Before heading back upstairs, she peeked in the garage. His car was gone. How strange.
With a mixture of confusion and disappointment, she returned to his office, the room she felt the most comfortable in. She curled up in the armchair by the window and sipped her coffee as she debated what Blake’s absence meant. There were really only a couple of options to debate. Either he’d left because something had come up, an emergency of some sort, like he’d run out of creamer—in which case, he would have left a note or would return shortly.
But she hadn’t seen a note and it had been nearly thirty minutes now since she’d awoken, which was past the return shortly window. And she’d found creamer for her coffee with no problem.
Which led to the other possibility—the awful, terrible option that made her stomach churn and her heart ache just thinking about it: Blake wasn’t there because he didn’t want to be. Because he didn’t want to see her.
That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Even if their night hadn’t been as incredible for him as it had been for her—a notion that caused a lump to form in her throat—even if it had just been another night in the life of Blake Donovan, he wouldn’t be so rude or heartless to simply walk out on her. Would he?
No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He’d come too far in their time together. She didn’t even have a ride—he knew that. There was no way he’d leave her stranded. No way would he abandon all his social graces, no matter how miserable an occasion her visit might have been. She couldn’t believe that about him.
Then she spotted the files on his desk—the date files that she’d brought with her the night before. When she’d left them there, they were still wrapped in their elastic band. Now they were spread out, a couple of them open. He’d looked at them that very morning, he had to have.
She stood and crossed over to his desk, a ball of dread forming in her gut. Without touching anything, she circled to sit in Blake’s chair, to see things exactly as he saw them last. The topmost open file belonged to Jane Osborne, name circled. That didn’t mean anything, of course. Maybe he was thinking about canceling his date with her or looking up her phone number or a million different reasons.
Under Jane’s file, though, was the restaurant file. Menton’s profile sheet was on top. The reservation number was circled in black pen. That hadn’t been there yesterday. Blake must have done it that morning. It was so obvious. Oh, God. Blake was planning to take Jane to Menton’s—the nicest restaurant in all of Boston.
Andy’s heart sank.
When she’d met Jane all those weeks ago, Andy had been ecstatic. She’d found the perfect candidate for Blake in Jane. She had the right hair, the right eyes, the right background, the right personality. Finding her had been kismet.
Now it felt less like kismet and more like karma.
For all the shitty things she’d done working for Max Ellis, this was her reward. She now had to sit back and watch as the man she loved continued to date another woman—a woman who was perfectly picked for him by none other than herself.
A tear trickled down Andy’s cheek. Another threatened, but she held it in and forced herself to calm down, to breathe and think it through. It might not be what it looked like. After their night together, Blake wouldn’t treat her this way. It was a lot to assume based on two open files. There was probably another explanation. She simply had to talk to him and find out.
Using his desk phone, she dialed his cell. There was no answer. Where the hell would he be at eight thirty in the morning? If he’d seen his house number come up, he may have avoided it realizing it was her. But then he probably would have simply dismissed the call and it would have gone straight to voice mail.
She was overthinking. She couldn’t know anything without talking to him.
Deciding she’d give him the benefit of the doubt until they spoke—well, as much benefit as she could muster—Andy headed back to the bedroom to get her clothes. She dressed and grabbed her phone off the nightstand, spotting the twenties that had fallen to the floor earlier. Suddenly it occurred to her that the money hadn’t been there the night before when she’d reached for the remote. Had it?
No, she did not remember seeing it.
Did that mean…? Was it…? She couldn’t formulate the thought into words, the idea was so putrid. Still, she had to take this at face value. And face value said that Blake had left her money. On the bedside table. For sex. Like she was a hooker.
Her vision went red. He hadn’t even treated her as good as a hooker—a hooker would have been paid more than forty fucking dollars. They’d been through this before, with a near-disastrous outcome. They’d agreed to never talk about pay for sex again. Was leaving it on the nightstand his way of sneaking around that agreement? Or now that all the rules had been broken, was this also off the table?
God, this better be something different from what it looked like, because if it wasn’t she might very well do something drastic. Something that made burning Ellis’s files look like model employee behavior in comparison.
Hands shaking with fury and heart still bruised from Blake’s absence, she used the remaining battery in her dying cell phone to call a cab. She briefly considered hugging Puppy good-bye—she had fallen just as hard for the little guy—but he had gone back to chewing on whatever bit of debris had his attention earlier.
With a soft, “Bye, Puppy,” she went outside to wait, locking the door behind her. She didn’t trust her restraint enough to be left alone in the Donovan mansion, and it wouldn’t be fair to act without hearing Blake’s side. Besides, Lacy would kick her ass if she got hit with another lawsuit. At this point, the latter was a bit more motivating than the former.