Chapter 9

Lanie

“I knew the second I saw you that you were the one for me,” Andrew Marx breathed, his hot exhale kissing my cheek.

I closed my eyes, absorbing his scent, anticipating his taste on my tongue. His lips grazed against mine ever so softly, his tongue darting out to nudge my mouth open.

“Ow!” I shrieked, dropping the knife onto the cutting board. Bright red blood spilled from the cut on the side of my finger.

“Here.” Erica took my hand and inspected it. “It’s just a little nick. Press this against it, and I’ll get a Band-Aid.”

I leaned against the counter and wrapped the paper towel around my finger as she rooted through her first aid kit.

“What had you distracted?” she asked.

My face grew hot. “Nothing.”

Luckily, she didn’t look up at me. “Here we go.”

I tossed the paper towel and carefully wrapped the Band-Aid around my finger.

“Maybe I should take care of cutting the veggies,” Erica said.

“Knock yourself out. I’ll take care of drinking the wine.” Plopping down at the table, I dug her corkscrew into the bottle of white.

“How did that parent-teacher meeting go?” she asked as she continued the work I’d failed so miserably at.

“Um.” Andrew Marx’s eyes came back to me, dark and full of heat. After he’d left, I’d spent the rest of the day thinking about him. Like, wild, forbidden thoughts. I was probably the horniest person in the whole school that day—which was something, considering there were hundreds of hormonal teenage boys surrounding me.

“Um?”

“It was … good.”

Erica stopped cutting and squinted at me over the kitchen island. “Are you feeling okay?”

“He was superhot.” I shook my head. “I don’t even have the words, Erica.”

“Oh my god!” she shouted, raising her arms high in the air. “I knew it! I had a feeling you would meet someone today. He’s single, right? You checked his hand?”

“He’s a widower.”

“Okay,” she dully said. “And?”

I shrugged. “It’s just sad. For Raven, you know. And him.”

“So he is the Marx guy I thought he was, right?”

“I think so. Investing or whatever?”

“Yeah.” She quickly munched on a celery stick as her eyes widened. “I’ve only heard a little bit about him. I think he likes to stay out of the spotlight. What kind of hot is he?”

“What kinds are there?”

“Like, you know.” She waved the celery around. “Compare him to a celebrity. Who does he look the most like?”

“No one compares to him.”

“No.”

“Yes,” I solemnly nodded.

“I’m looking right now.” Yanking her phone from her pocket, she tapped away. I did my best to focus on the room we were in and on not get pulled back into the fantasy I’d been enjoying a moment earlier.

Andrew Marx had been flirting with me.

Right?

I was reasonably certain he had been. But I didn’t know for sure. Men like him—sexy, older, successful men—didn’t take an interest in me. College boys did. Guys who were managers at restaurants and rented rooms in their moms’ houses did. The truth was, I didn’t know what it looked like when a guy who was entirely out of my league paid me any attention. It just never happened.

“Holy shit,” Erica gasped, staring at her phone. “You weren’t kidding.”

She turned the phone around, showing me a picture of Andrew Marx wearing a scowl. It had been taken while he walked out of some building, and his hand was lifted as if he were telling the photographer to back off.

Grumpy face or not, the sight of Mr. Marx had desire pooling in me once again.

“That’s the first pic that came up?”

“Yeah.” She did some more tapping. “From one search, I’m getting the impression he likes to stay out of the spotlight. Hold on. I’m going to see what his estimated net worth is.”

“No,” I gasped. “Don’t do that.”

Erica’s perfectly-arched brows furrowed. “Uh, why the hell not?”

“Because that would be weird. He’s my student’s dad.”

She shook her head in disdain. “I’m looking it up anyway. Wow. It’s a lot.”

“I don’t want to know.” Crossing the kitchen, I pulled two glasses from the cupboard and poured us both some wine.

“It’s billions.”

“I said stop. It doesn’t matter how much he’s worth.” I gave her a wide-eyed stare. “I want to think of him as just another guy.”

“Oh, honey.” Erica laughed. “This is not just another guy.” She showed me the picture again. As if I could ever forget that face.

“He is for me. I can’t think of him in that way.”
“Even if you already are?”

She knew me too well.

“Why would he go for someone like me?”

“Why would he not? Seriously, you need to stop putting yourself down. Right now.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I’m not fucking kidding, Lanie,” she snapped, her voice so loud it made me jump. Gone was the playful attitude. Instead, Erica stared at me with a razor-sharp gaze.

“You are amazing,” she said. “Am I the kind of person who would hang out with a loser?”

“No,” I truthfully admitted.

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t. Now give me that wine.”

Not waiting for me to move, she stomped around the island and took it for herself.

“Ask him out,” she said after she’d had a swallow. “You won’t regret it.”

“I’m not doing that.” I furiously shook my head. “Although, I did tell him about that art show this weekend.”

“And what did he say?”

“It had nothing to do with us. I suggested he take his daughter to it because she loves art.”

Erica waved her wine glass around. “I’m still waiting to hear what he said.”

“He asked if …” I bit down on the smile curving my lips. “If I would be there.”

Erica shrieked and lightly punched my arm. “You jerk! You were holding out on me. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because I don’t want to get my hopes up,” I wailed. “Am I interested in this guy? Yes. Of course.”

“And he’s interested in you.”

“Because he asked if I’d be there?” I hopefully questioned.

“Don’t make me spell it out again.”

“Okay.” Heat crept up my neck. “I believe you.”

“It’s about time you did, you sexy, smart beast, you.”

I giggled. “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

“Please.” She snorted into her wine glass. “I got over that phase in college.”

For the hundredth time that day, I ran over the conversation with Andrew Marx in my head. “I’ll see you there,” he’d said.

Remembering the way his gaze had settled on mine, butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Could this really be happening? An attractive, smart man was interested in me?

“What do you think of him being older?” I asked.

“I think it’s sexy as hell.”

“Yeah.” I grinned. “I kind of like it too.”

The sound of someone knocking at the door gave me pause.

“Hello! House keeping. Would you like your pillows fluffed?” Matt’s voice was high-pitched and hilarious.

“Brother,” Erica muttered with a smile on her face. “Where is your key?”

“Lost it?” He smiled as she opened the door. “Again?”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” She moved back and put a hand on her hip.

“That’s what she said.” He winked and walked toward the kitchen. “Hello, Lanie.”

“Hi, Matt,” I waved.

“Uh, you’re not supposed to be over here.” Erica made a face. “It’s Thursday night. Boy’s night, which gives me my beloved girl’s night?”

“Baby, I love it when you sweet talk.” Matt turned, wrapped his arms around her and fervently kissed her neck, making both Erica and me laugh.

“Stop,” she squealed. “You’ll spill my wine.”

She pretended to try to wiggle away, but it was pretty obvious she was right where she wanted to be.

“I just came to drop this off.” Matt put her phone charger on the counter. “I’ll only stay for a minute and then I’m out again.”

“I have another one I could use,” Erica pointed out.

“If I let you do that, what excuse would I have to drop by?” Matt lowered his face, sending Erica a purposeful look. She lowered her own eyes, the confident, snappy woman instantly transformed into a love-struck youth.

Matt lifted some of Erica’s hair and kissed behind her ear. “I only wanted to say hi. Won’t ruin your dinner. Call me later tonight, woman.”

“Okay,” she breathlessly murmured. You’d think the two of them had newly started dating the week before instead of being together for a few months. Hell, I think they knew each other for years and never connected.

“Have a good night, Lanie.” Matt gave me a friendly smile, hazel eyes warm and welcoming.

As Erica’s best friend, it was probably my job to point out any shortcomings her man possessed, but with Matt, I couldn’t find any.

“See you two later.” With that, he was back in the elevator, having only dropped by for a minute—as he’d promised. The only signs he’d been there at all were the phone charger and Erica’s gargantuan smile.

“What are you thinking about?” I teased.

“Oh, nothing.” Her eyes dreamily drifted to the dark window.

Without a doubt, Matt would be back once I’d left. They’d probably have wild, romantic sex, fall asleep tangled around each other, and then make breakfast together in the morning before heading to work. Only a trip to the farmer’s market would make the event sickeningly complete.

Running my tongue along my front teeth, I looked at my hands. No one wore jealousy well, least of all me. But sometimes I couldn’t stop myself. Erica had one of the most amazing relationships in the world. I’d be insane not to want that as well.

“Don’t worry,” Erica suddenly said.

When I hadn’t been paying attention, her gaze had switched from the window to me.

“If you want it, it’ll happen for you.”

“Yeah.” I looked at the wall, the floor. Cleared my throat. “At this point, I’d take having some fun.”

“Why settle for only that?”

She turned away, getting busy at the stove, which I appreciated. I didn’t want her to see the doubt on my face.

Half of me was thrilled to have met a guy who was my type. Andrew Marx was smart, handsome, and obviously ambitious. But the flip side of the coin was the self-doubt that came with the situation. Could I get my hopes up and believe someone that amazing would be into me? Or was doing so setting myself up for disappointment?

I swirled the wine in my glass, too buzzed already but needing something for my hands to do. There was no point in worrying about any of this. Only two things could be known for sure. I was going to the opening, and Andrew Marx would be there. Beyond that, nothing was guaranteed.