Chapter 9

Jeremy

“I’m tapping out, Rocco.” I rest my hands on my knees. My leg muscles are on fire. “For fuck’s sake you win, alright? You win. Dinner is on me.”

Rocco turns to look at me.

He’s as worn out as I am, but he was determined to win our bet.

We made the wager right before we started our run through Central Park. Whoever quit first had to cover the cost of dinner tonight. I knew before we crossed the street in front of his apartment that I’d be the one pulling my wallet out at the end of our meal.

“We’re eating at Nova. It’s that place in Greenwich Village. You’re heard of it, right?” He lifts a hand to wipe away the sweat pouring down his face and onto his bare chest. “I’m ordering the most expensive dish on the menu.”

“You’re an asshole.” I laugh. “If I would have won, we’d be eating a BLT and fries at Crispy Biscuit.”

“You order that every time we meet there for lunch.” His hands drop to his hips right above where his black shorts are sitting.

I stand straight and suck in a few deep breaths. “We’re not going to Nova. It takes weeks to get a reservation. Pick another place.”

“We have a reservation for tonight.” He approaches me, his gaze drifting over my shoulder.

“You made a reservation?” I huff out a laugh. “When?”

“Four days ago when you invited yourself along for my Saturday afternoon run and told me that you could beat me in distance.”

“Cocky bastard.” I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “What time are we doing this?”

“Eight.” He tilts his chin up. “You down for double or nothing?”

I cock a brow. “Now?”

“Right now.”

We’ve been tossing bets back and forth since he signed on as a partner in my business. I’ve yet to turn one down. “I’m in.”

“If I win, we drink a bottle of their most expensive wine with dinner. If you win, we’ll go to Crispy Biscuit.”

“I’ll win. Tell me what I need to do.”

“Check that tracker app on your phone.” He points at the phone that’s strapped to my bicep. “If it’s turned on, I’ll be sipping the best chardonnay money can buy tonight. If it’s turned off, you’ll get that bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich you want.”

“It’s a bet and I win,” I announce with a grin. “I deleted that fucking app two days ago.”

His gaze jumps over my shoulder again. “Check your phone, Jeremy.”

I tug open the strap on my arm and release my phone. “Unless you know something I don’t, there’s no way in hell you’re winning this bet.”

“Mr. Weston?”

I curse under my breath when I hear the voice behind me. It’s Blythe, my assistant.

“Oh, Mr. Jones.” She brushes past me to extend her hand to Rocco. “You’re looking…well.”

Rocco takes her hand in his. “It’s Blythe, right?”

She giggles at that even though she’s married and at least three decades older than him. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget you?” he asks with a straight face. He’s dropped by my office twice and both times Blythe practically tripped over her own feet rushing to get him a cup of coffee made exactly the way he likes.

“Tell me this is a coincidence, Blythe.” I look at her purple shorts and pink butterfly-patterned blouse. “Thank you for never wearing that to the office.”

She bats a hand over my shoulder. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, Jeremy.”

“It’s Saturday.” I skim my fingers over my phone’s screen. I know I’ll find that damn app back on my phone. Blythe and I have been doing a back-and-forth dance for the past month. She installs it on my phone to track where I am. I delete the app and change my phone’s password.

She guesses the new password and we start the cycle all over again.

“Shit,” I say under my breath when I spot the app. “When the hell did you have your hands on my phone during the past two days?”

She shrugs as she watches me delete it again. “Yesterday. You ran to the break room to get me a coffee.”

“He gets you coffee?” Rocco’s voice draws Blythe’s attention back to him.

I shoot him a look. “I was headed in that direction.”

“I appreciate it.” Blythe pats my cheek before she swipes her palm across the front of her blouse. “You’re a little sweaty.”

I cup my jaw. I want to get out of here and home to a cool shower. “Why did you chase me down today? The office is closed. You’re supposed to be enjoying your day off with Harve.”

“Harve is having a nap.” Brushing a strand of her gray hair behind her ear, she glances up at Rocco. “My hubby doesn’t have the same stamina as a young fellow like you.”

He leans in close to her. “When he wakes up tell him what a lucky man he is to have you.”

Her mouth lifts in a broad smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”

“Blythe.” I snap my fingers. “Over here. Why the hell did you track me down?”

She nods her head. “Oh, right. I left an invitation on your desk yesterday. I know you opened it. You were supposed to RSVP by noon today.”

I look at my phone’s screen. It’s twelve-thirty. “You raced out here to ask if I’d be willing to have dinner with your best friend’s niece tomorrow night?”

“She’s perfect for you, Jeremy. “She takes a step back to look over my dark blue running shorts and matching T-shirt. “Clean yourself up and shave. She likes boys who are clean-shaven.”

Rocco chuckles.

I don’t glance in his direction. I keep my gaze squarely on my assistant. “Lindsay is a lovely woman, Blythe, but…”

“But nothing,” she interrupts. “You’re a perfect match. You’re both single. I saw the sparks that were flying between you two when she came to visit me at the office last week.”

There wasn’t a spark in sight; at least not on my end.

“I’m interested in someone else. It’s going to be a no, Blythe.”

She studies my face carefully. “Why have I not met this woman you’re interested in?”

Because I don’t know who the fuck she is.

I spent a few hours with her in a hotel room in Vegas two months ago and I can’t stop thinking about her.

I’ve tried.

Jesus, have I tried.

I’ve taken women to dinner. I’ve gone home with them, and every single fucking time, I don’t end up in bed. Instead, I retell the story of the gorgeous green-eyed woman in the pink tutu I met on my way to Vegas and how she disappeared before I woke up.

It still haunts me that I only got a taste. If I would have kept my goddamn eyes open that night I would have had more time with her.

For the rest of my life, I’m going to regret falling asleep that night.

Rocco clears his throat. He’s heard me complain about Blythe a handful of times the past few months including last week when I told him she put that tracker app on my phone.

He knows she oversteps, but he’s well aware of what an asset she is to me. She’s one of the few people in this world that I trust.

“I’m heading up Central Park South.” Rocco offers his arm to Blythe. “Can I walk you somewhere?”

She grabs his bicep, wrapping her hand around it. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“You live in the opposite direction, Blythe,” I point out.

“I know.” She winks at me. “We’re going to take the scenic route.”

I shake my head as I watch them walk away. Hundreds of people are in the park on this warm summer afternoon, but my gaze is only drawn to women with shoulder-length brown hair.

I have no idea if the woman I spent the night with in Las Vegas lives in Manhattan, but that hasn’t stopped me from scanning the face of every brunette I’ve seen since that night.

I may never lay eyes on her again, but it sure as hell doesn’t hurt to look.