and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to hear it, Patrick.”
Patrick shook his head. “I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Skip it, Patrick.”
“She’s getting married again,” Patrick blurted.
Cade rolled his eyes. “Good for her. I don’t care.”
“It just bugs me, that’s all. She guts you and comes out of it smelling like a rose.”
“She didn’t gut me. We both knew it wasn’t right, practically on the honeymoon. Me getting off the Shearson Lehman gravy train to help start a dot-com just gave her the excuse she needed to make the break.” He shrugged. “I’m not happy about the money part of it, but the rest doesn’t matter.”
“Is that why all you ever do is work?” Patrick’s voice turned serious. “Don’t get me wrong. As your partner, I’m not complaining, but as your friend I worry. Where’s the guy of a thousand dates that I used to know? Hell, Cade, you don’t even look at a woman anymore. Why don’t you give yourself a break and at least get some kind of life going?”
Cade bit back temper. “Patrick, there are times I get home and even the people on the TV seem like they want too much from me. I don’t have the time and energy for doing the dance, okay?” The elevator doors opened and they walked out into the brightly lit marble lobby. “Besides, chemistry doesn’t last, that much I learned from Alyssa. Just give me a break.”
“Cade, it’s been four years since you guys divorced. I mean, forget about obligations, I’m just talking about a one night stand.”
Cade snorted. “That sounds like the cry of a married man who wants to live vicariously.”
“You’re going to get hair on your palms and go blind if you keep this up too much longer, buddy. And that’s going to turn the VC guys right off.”
“Patrick.”
“What about her?” he cocked his head as a curvaceous blonde in white passed them, then grinned to see Cade’s eyes following her. “Well, I’m glad to see that your gonads aren’t completely dead.”
Too reminiscent of Alyssa’s ice blond Beacon Hill debutante looks, Cade thought. The kind who would freeze you if you got too close. “Serve you right if I hauled you out on the town for a night of partying. See how much trouble I can get you in with Amy.” They stopped in front of the lobby bar, talking over the whisper of the fountain burbling in the center.
“I wish I could stop for a drink to celebrate, but I’ve got to get home. Amy’s got book club tonight. That shouldn’t stop you, though,” Patrick said, nodding toward a passing cocktail waitress carrying a tray laden with glasses.
Cade shook his head in mock remorse. “Tragic, what marriage does to a man.”
Patrick smiled and patted him on the back. “Just because I’m peeling out doesn’t mean you should. Hang around for a little while. Have a drink. Who knows, maybe in a couple minutes some gorgeous woman will show up out of the blue and come on to you.” He leaned in closer. “And if she does, do me a favor, buddy. Don’t question it, don’t ask why. Just go with it and let whatever happens, happen.”
Cade raised an eyebrow at him. “What the hell kind of advice is that?”
“Take it as a few words of wisdom from someone who knows a thing or two.” Patrick grinned. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cade waved him off and looked at the passing waitress. Maybe he would have a drink. After all the work he’d put in, he deserved it.
RYAN WALKED INTO THE Copley Plaza Hotel, teetering a bit on her heels as she spotted the lobby bar, her heart trip-hammering. The silk of her dress slithered against her as she walked, making her conscious of every brush of her thighs. She’d wanted to look good for tonight, but maybe dropping $250 on the peacock-blue mid-thigh number was overdoing it, considering it would be off in less than half an hour. Oh my God. Butterflies surged in her stomach at the thought. What in the world was she doing? She had to be out of her mind. Only the panic of facing her empty computer screen kept her from wheeling around and going right back to her car.
She glanced across the semi-crowded room. On one of the groupings of deep, soft couches, a group of noisy businessmen laughed at each other’s jokes. From the looks of their rumpled suits and disheveled hair, she figured they’d been sucking down martinis for some time. On a nearby settee, an older woman with an air of faded elegance cast a disapproving glance at the group, leaning close to whisper to the young girl beside her. Up by the bar, a piano player was murdering an old Harry Nilsson tune. There ought to be a law, Ryan thought. And then she saw him, sitting on a couch, an empty glass at his elbow. He raised a beckoning hand.
Her knees turned to water.
Helene’s friend hadn’t exaggerated. Stunningly good-looking didn’t come close to describing him. Thick, dark hair stopped just at his collar, a sheaf falling down over his forehead. His face was strong-boned, the eyes too shadowed under the slashes of dark brows for her to see the color. But his mouth…a fantasy blazed through her mind, her naked, on her back, looking down to see his mouth on her. And it was going to happen, everything she wanted, everything she could think of. Oh my god. She took a quick breath to fill lungs that felt robbed of oxygen. Then she breathed in again.
Okay. The thing to do was to be casual, classy, self-possessed oh my god just walk up, introduce herself, and go upstairs oh my god, he’s going to—
Ryan reached the couch. Blue. His eyes were the deep blue of the Atlantic on a clear fall day. As he looked her up and down, she felt her cheeks heat. Casual, classy, self-possessed.
Oh my god.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Hello. I’m Ryan.” She put her hand out.
He hesitated just a beat, then caught it up and brought it to his lips. “You’re also lovely.”
She was, simply, stunned. His lips sent a frisson of heat and electricity through her hand, which seemed to have instantly grown a thousand new nerve endings. She sank down on the couch because her knees wouldn’t hold her.
Cade studied her in bemusement. Granted, he’d been out of the bar scene for a couple of years—okay, for six or seven if you wanted to get picky—but he was almost sure that gorgeous women didn’t just fall into a guy’s lap because he was sitting in a bar alone. At least not unless you were Russell Crowe, anyway. The waitress he’d waved at brought him another scotch. He passed her a bill and glanced at Ryan. “Would you like something?”
Nothing from the bar, thanks, a little voice in her mind answered back. I’ll just have you. Cade and the waitress looked at her, waiting for her response. Her cheeks heated. Classy. What was a classy, sophisticated drink? “A martini,” Ryan said quickly. “I’ll have a martini.”
“How do you want that?”
Great. How would a martini drinker answer? “Um, dry, please.” Ryan breathed a sigh of relief as the waitress nodded and walked off. Then she pushed back her hair and turned to the man beside her.
She truly was something to look at, Cade thought, watching the blush slowly fade from her high cheekbones.
