Bachelor Heart Page 4

  Another article in the magazine suggested that for true intimacy that you need to open your world up to the other person. Perhaps on their next date he could insist that they stay at her place. See how she lived. See her style in decorating. See her world.

  Next time.

  Of course, her place didn’t have the same level of security his home did.

  He studied her expression as Evan approached her and introduced himself. She did appear unhappy. She also looked cold. Evan was right, she needed a jacket. Her dress was sexy as hell, but not appropriate. He felt certain she wore the high-cut, low-cleavage outfit just for him, so how could he complain?

  Now that Evan had met her, he wondered what else the young man would pick up on.

  Evan opened the back-passenger side door. A gust of wind billowed out Brandelynn’s dress and her blonde hair draped across her face. She climbed in, her hand clearing the errant strands from her forehead as she shivered.

  “You look lovely tonight,” Daniel said as he leaned in and kissed her.

  “New car?”

  It wasn’t much of a question and sounded more of a statement.

  “I’ve been waiting over ten minutes.” Her hands rubbed her arms.

  “Let me warm you.” Daniel put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. That’s when he noticed her earrings. The earrings, as well as the dress, were new. He had opened an account with Saks for her, and he figured a bill would cross his desk soon.

  Brandelynn’s gaze caught his. Her eyebrow arched, and she stared at him like a tigress stalking prey. “You look handsome.” She nearly sat on his lap and kissed him back.

  The kiss was eager and welcomed, but it kept them from talking. The conversations they had never went much further than this. He wanted to either break up with Brandelynn or completely let her into his world, he wasn't sure which.

  Whichever it was, this was an important decision and he needed to know more about her.

  Her hand slipped into his suit pants and gripped his already hardened cock. He pulled away and thought back to the article and to what Evan had said.

  He then asked, “Where did you grow up?”

  5

  Why did women talk in riddles? A straight answer was all Daniel wanted, not a bunch of suspicious questions asking him what was wrong and why he was questing her like a criminal.

  The article clearly stated that women wanted to talk about their lives and their feelings. What was he doing wrong?

  He would check in with Evan—who seemed like the ‘woman whisperer’—but Brandelynn had closed their privacy screen and blocked all sight and sound. The ride to the restaurant was short. If not, Daniel knew what the closed privacy screen usually meant.

  And even though a quick romp in the car always felt good in the past, he just wasn’t in the mood.

  The car turned into the crowded parking lot of Mas Rafs. People who had not planned ahead for reservations crowded the five–star restaurant.

  Evan parked the car in front of the place, and walked to the rear door. He stood with his back to the car, giving them a moment of privacy.

  Brandelynn touched up her hair and makeup. She was like an old gunslinger—fastest draw in the west, only with a compact. Daniel hadn't even noticed her remove the makeup from her purse.

  He waited a few minutes while she made herself perfect. Now taking a good look at her, she almost seemed too perfect—nearly plastic. Blonde hair, thin waist, big boobs… She was Barbie personified.

  She placed the compact back in her purse, and her cell phone fell. Picking it up, he noticed a text from, “Black Cat.” He wasn’t sure what “Black Cat” was, but they had a margarita special going on tonight. Brandelynn had never mentioned the place before, but maybe it was her hangout when she went out with her friends.

  Friends he didn’t know, and had never met.

  “Thank you.” She grabbed the phone from him and placed it into her purse.

  Daniel tapped on the car window and Evan opened the door so the two could step out. Brandelynn hooked her arm around Daniel’s outstretched one once they stood on the curb.

  “Enjoy your meal, sir. Madam.” Evan closed the car door. “I'll be right here when you need me, sir.”

  The young man hadn’t said two words since getting into the car with Brandelynn. Daniel had asked for the truth, and the truth is what he got.

  Evan took out his card and handed it to Daniel. “I’ll park down the street. Just call when you’re ready, sir.”

  Gone was Evan’s happy expression and joy in doing his job. His expressionless face held his shame. Shame for only telling the truth.

  Daniel felt like he should have said something to the boy, but instead, he took the card and let him drive away without a word.

  Brandelynn fussed with her hair and waited, a scowl crossing her face. She was either a child who needed full attention, or a high maintenance woman who would rather be anywhere else. Either way, he hated that expression—and had seen it too many time in the past.

  “We can go somewhere else if you want.” Since Mas Rafs was his favorite restaurant, he hoped she would not suggest another place.

  Her eyes widened. “This place is excellent. I assumed we'd be here tonight, seeing how we always come here.”

  He didn't appreciate the tone of her voice, but dismissed it.

  Brandelynn's hand caressed her hair, her fingers picking up loose strands and she smiled toward someone taking her picture. Daniel suspected she liked the attention. Most of his past girlfriends enjoyed the fame, as if it was one of the perks of dating him.

  He, however, could do without the paparazzi.

  They passed the crowd, and he held the restaurant door for Brandelynn. All Daniel could think about was Evan back in the car, eating his sack dinner lovingly handmade by his wife. Daniel would quickly toss Mas Rafs aside if he had someone to make him a sandwich and wish him a good day at work. Did Evan even realize how lucky he was to have a banana split woman in his life?

  “Mr. Ellington. Miss Brandelynn. So nice to see you again,” Adam Levinson, the owner of the restaurant and a close friend of Daniel’s, said once they made their way through the door.

  “You have the best accommodation tonight, in our wine cellar room.” Adam shook Daniel’s hand with a firm grip. “There are three semi–private tables in the room, each partitioned off and staffed with their own wait staff.”

  Noting the way Brandelynn hugged his arm, having two other couples in the room would ensure they actually ate dinner tonight instead of cutting it short and rushing back to his place to have sex.

  It would give them a chance to talk.

  God, what was he thinking? One magazine and he was all touchy, feeling.

  He felt pathetic.

  Sitting at their reserved table, he stared into Brandelynn's eyes. She was beautiful, sexy, great in bed… but also conceited and shallow. Perhaps he had set the bar too high. After all, he was already six months into this relationship. Most women didn't survive this long.

  “Smile, sweetheart.” She turned her head and extended her hand to take a selfy of the two of them. She then began texting, “Hashtag romance, hashtag Valentine’s Day, hashtag monthiversary…”

  He let her words fade into the distance. In this one–hundred–and–forty–character–or–less attention span of a world, when did six months become a long time? His parents had been blissfully married for over fifty years until his mother's recent death.

  Brandelynn looked devilishly at him and winked. “Hashtag handsome, hashtag….” Her voice sounded sugary-sweet with each word of flattery—but she still kept texting and snap-chatting.

  Would she bother to type hashtag rich or hashtag meal ticket? Probably not. It was implied by just saying hashtag Ellington. Too bad hashtag soul mate wouldn’t make the list either.

  Maybe he was too successful to find a soul mate. His parents met when his father was struggling financially and all he could offer was his love and devotion. His pa
rents were probably not much better financially off than Evan and his wife.

  Maybe that was when Daniel should have found someone. But at the time, he’d been more interested in sleeping around than finding someone who wanted him, not just his wallet.

  Damn. He had lost the opportunity, and he only had himself to blame.

  The waiter approached the table with menus in hand. “Good evening sir, madam.” He handed them the menus. “Happy Valentine’s Day to the both of you. We are offering some lovely specials tonight, starting with …”

  Daniel allowed the man’s words to fade into the background. He would order the sirloin steak, his favorite, once again. Steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a salad on the side. Solid food. Once the waiter left, he said, “Everything sounds so good this evening.”

  She stared at the menu and didn’t glance up.

  He felt like he was on an awkward first date. A first date that wasn’t going well. “You never told me what your favorite food is. Do you have a favorite meal?”

  She glanced up. “What?”

  “Do you have a favorite food?”

  She shook her head and continued to read the menu. “It all looks good, sweetheart.”

  How could he negotiate massive business agreements, own an internationally successful business, hold two degrees—one in English—and yet not be able to start a conversation with a woman he was sleeping with?

  Daniel didn’t start dating Brandelynn for her conversation abilities, but he’d thought surely she would at least answer a direct question.

  “I thought the Alaskan salmon special sounded fantastic,” he said, trying again. “I've never been to Alaska. One of my bucket list items is to see the Northern Lights.”

  Brandelynn gave a slight “Uh–huh” as she continued to read.

  “Have you ever seen them?”

  “Seen what? The lights?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “I grew up down south,” she said, nearly dismissively.

  Her diction held no southern accent. “What part of the south?”

  The look she gave him was one of irritation, like she didn't want to talk at all.

  “I think I'll have the lobster special.” She smiled and Daniel realized even her teeth were capped.

  The one thing Daniel knew always worked with women was gifts. He unbuttoned his coat and tapped the inside breast pocket of his jacket, feeling the diamond tennis bracelet Ms. Baxter had bought for tonight. So why did he feel like he was being served up with a big red bow?

  6

  The warmth of her sister’s house surrounded Deborah after a cold drive, giving her a sense of family harmony. She always felt at home at Sue’s place—that is, if her husband were gone. Otherwise, Deborah played the part of a third wheel.

  Tonight, it was only the two of them, delicious Chinese food, and a bottle of wine. It was perfect.

  Deborah helped herself to more of the chicken with broccoli and Sue finished off the garlic shrimp dish. There had been no mention of Sue’s husband during the meal, so Deborah ventured to ask, “Have you heard from…?”

  “No,” Sue cut her off in an irritated tone, one that was filled with worry. “Deployed in Iraq and doing something secret.”

  Loneliness laced her words in a poison-filled, I don’t care if he is off saving the world he needs to come home, type of way.

  Message received.

  They returned to the living room and sat down. Deborah folded her long legs under her as she placed a pillow on her lap to use as a makeshift table. She then took a sip of her wine, the start of her second glass of the evening.

  She normally limited herself to just one glass. But it was her birthday, and it was Valentine’s Day, so two drinks were not out of the question. And she had felt off all day after getting to work. The eeriness of having Caroline offer to set her up on a date had made her skin crawl. Having to fish a gift from the sorry-to-see-you-go slush pile of jewelry trinkets she kept on hand for Daniel’s ex-loves had added to the odd feeling.

  Deborah had been waiting to give Daniel’s current love interest her parting gift for several months now. Who knew the present would end up being a Valentine’s Day gift?

  Sue’s eyebrow rose and had a playful expression on her face. “Over the years, has Mr. Boss Man gotten fat?”

  Deborah nearly spewed her wine. She figured the subject would come around to her boss soon enough, but she’d thought the topic might be held at bay at least until the cheesecake was done defrosting for dessert.

  So much for a perfect evening.

  “Mr. Ellington is not fat.”

  “Balding?” Sue gestured to her face. “Bad dental work?”

  “Nothing,” Deborah managed to say between a fit of laughter. “He's still as handsome as ever.” Handsome, and totally off limits.

  Why had she told Sue about her crush on the man all those years ago? It wasn’t destined to go anywhere, and was something she had no intention of pursuing. Office romances never worked out, and she didn’t need the heartache. Or the shame of when it imploded in her face.

  “Handsome as in he looks good for his age?” Sue pressed. “Or handsome as in I am dying inside not having his arms around me?”

  Deborah pulled out her phone and went to the bookmark she kept for the company's website. The home page showed a recent image of the man, a picture Deborah had taken when the company had first moved to Chicago nearly a year ago. Daniel stood outside their building by the company’s logo. His strong jaw showed his confidence, his whimsical smile his more playful side. With the clear blue sky behind him, and the stance he had taken, he looked like Superman.

  “You don't keep up with the securities industry, or anything in my life, do you?” she asked her sister.

  Sue shook her head. “Just Josh.”

  A slight smile spread across her lips—which was always the case when her son was mentioned.

  Deborah glanced down at her phone. “This is a recent picture of my Mr. Boss Man.” Rarely did Daniel allow himself to be photographed for public exposure, and this was a fantastic picture of him. He looked devilishly handsome in his dark and three-piece suit. What was it about that powerful—I can take on the world—look in his eyes that turned her to jelly several times a day?

  Deborah turned the phone and allowed her sister to see who Deborah believed to be the most perfect man on the planet.

  Sue's mouth gaped open. “The touch of gray in his lush hairline suits him.” She studied the picture. “He still has the most gorgeous blue eyes, still has broad shoulders, and still has no idea you even exist.”

  “Enough.” Deborah took the phone and pocketed it. “Mr. Ellington is off–limits. Besides, he's only interested in women half our age. He didn't even remember today is my birthday.”

  “Not even a card?” Sue shook her head in a ‘how do you put up with that behavior’ type of way. “Unbelievable.”

  Deborah faked a carefree smile. “So? He forgot my birthday. Mr. Ellington employs me, which is more than enough. He’s under no other obligation.”

  Sue eyed her sister, causing Deborah to wonder if she had food on her face.

  “You do everything for this man, and have for over eighteen years. You would think he could at least remember your birthday. My god, you’ve spent nearly two decades of birthdays with the man.”

  A piece of chicken fell from Deborah's fork and hit her comfy sweatshirt, leaving a small brown stain. “I'm fine,” she said, blotting at the mess with a napkin and hoping to get the topic off her boss. “It's not as if this is the first year he's forgotten.”

  “Exactly my point. He doesn’t appreciate you, Didi.”

  Deborah smiled and felt some anxiety escaping from her body at the sound of her childhood nickname.

  Sue set her plate on the coffee table and grabbed her wine glass. “You should find another job. One with a boss who doesn't depend on you for everything. The man may be Greek God material, but there's no reason for him to not
see you.” Sue waved her hand out in the air between the two of them. “With your sexy brunette hair, sexy doe–like eyes, and sexy legs ‘till Tuesday… I bet those girls he dates can't hold a candle to you.”

  Why did they have to talk about her boss every time they got together? Putting on her best don't–mess–with–me expression, Deborah said, “Nothing will ever happen between me and my boss. Besides, I enjoy my job.” She set her plate down on the pillow in her lap. “The pay is fantastic. I wouldn't earn this type of money being anyone else's assistant.”

  “Have you tried looking around?”

  “All the time,” she said, knowing it was a lie. “But as usual, the deal I get from my current job is too good. Plus, it's great experience.”

  “You can do so much more.” Sue pointed accusingly at her sister. “You almost have a college degree. You are one of the most intelligent women I know. And yet, you don't want to do anything more than be a glorified secretary?”

  Deborah’s chest tightened with the mention of the word secretary. She was so much more than that. Her sister needed to stop with her second glass of wine. By the third one, Sue usually plotted out what was wrong with the world and insisted how she knew how to fix everything.

  “I'm not a glorified secretary.” Deborah hated being called that. “You know I enjoy my writing.”

  Sue rolled her eyes. “You enjoy your little hobby.”

  It was a punch to the gut. No one understood how important writing was to her.

  “I just self–published my second romance novel.” Deborah held her chin high and took pride in her hard work. “The book is doing well, by the way.”

  “Did you sell more than five copies this time?”

  The feeling of needles prickled up her spine and she sucked in a deep breath before her ribs crushed in on her.

  This was it. No more wine for her sister. Deborah could easily tear into Sue's life. The woman didn't have children, although that was because her husband couldn't have any. She hated her job, which, Deborah guessed most people did. Sue also lived in the smallest house in a nice neighborhood, but was heavily in debt.