bachelor’ in the tabloids, he doesn’t seem like the settling-down type.”
Not only does Amanda know him from the tabloids, as my best friend since college, she knows how close Alec and I once were, and how he ditched me after prom. I look past Amanda’s shoulder, and my heart jumps into my throat when Alec walks in. The air of authority about him draws the attention of every single woman in the room, and some not-so-single ones. Then there’s the impeccable suit he’s sporting, one that was undoubtedly tailor-made for his tall frame and athletic body. The men in the room begin to posture in his presence, but there’s no point. Alec is breathtaking, the most impressive guy here, and for a moment I can’t think, let alone breathe as he smooths his hands over his tie in much the same way his grandfather did during our meeting. With a laser focus, he casts a quick glance around the café. Intense blue eyes find mine, and the muscles in his square jaw ripple as he clenches down, giving me the impression that he had no idea it was me he was meeting.
Wouldn’t James have told him?
As our eyes hold and lock, my insides burn like I’ve just been hit with a high-voltage Taser. Damn, he hasn’t changed a bit. No, that’s not true. He’s grown from a boy to a man, his body wider, thicker, filling out his clothes in a way the young Alec never could. I swallow. Hard.
“I guess I’m about to find out what’s in it for him,” I squeak out.
Amanda’s eyes pop open again. “I take it he just arrived.” Her head angles, and I touch her hand and stop her before she can turn and gawk.
“Yes, he’s here. Right on time, as I suspected.” He always was conscious of the time, a stickler for the rules. Except now, something in my gut tells me he no longer plays by them. “Please don’t look.”
Amanda picks up her mug and half-eaten jelly doughnut. “Then I’m gone. Text me later,” she says. “I can’t wait to hear all about this.”
I stand with her, and run my damp hands over my skirt. No need to greet him with a wet palm and let him know what the sight of him is doing to me—even after all this time. It’s best I give a professional vibe, and the appearance that I’m completely unaffected by him.
If only that were true.
He nods to Amanda as she walks past him to put her mug in the tray, and his overwhelming presence weakens my traitorous knees as he crosses the room to stand over me. All six feet of pure power and testosterone takes my mind back to the night we made love. Scratch that. To the night we had sex. Yeah, lovemaking involves emotions. If there were emotions involved, he wouldn’t have walked away the next day, letting me know in no uncertain terms that there was nothing more between us. If only I’d gotten the memo back then, before I went to his hotel room and seduced him.
I lift my gaze to meet his, and even though he’s offering me a smile, I catch a hint of uncertainty in his gorgeous blue eyes as they roam my face. Obviously, this is as awkward for him as it is for me. His arms lift, like he’s about to embrace me, but professional event planner that I am, I keep it together and hold my hand out.
He stares at it for a moment, his smile dissolving, morphing into confusion, and then he gives me a tight, fast nod as he closes his big hand over mine.
Yeah, that’s right. That’s the way it’s going to be. I’m in charge here.
“Megan,” he says, his voice deeper than I remember it. “Nice to see you.”
“Alec,” I say. “Nice to see you, too. It’s been a long time. You’re well?” I say, always the master at small talk. A wedding planner has to be a good communicator, and I thank the Lord for my training.
Another tight nod. “Yes, you?”
“Never better,” I say and give him my best smile despite the storm raging inside me.
He gestures with a nod to Amanda as she disappears out the door. “Am I interrupting? Granddad told me to be here for two.”
“Two is correct and you’re not interrupting at all. I was just meeting with Amanda to go over some details for the upcoming Bar Mitzvah I’m planning. She’s a caterer. Perhaps you’ve heard of her business. Kitchen Door Catering, in Hell’s Kitchen. I actually rent office space from her.”
He gives a slow shake of his head. “Sorry, never heard of it.”
I’m not surprised, really; making a name in Manhattan and competing with already established businesses that own the core market share is hard. I can throw money at the marketing budget all day, but the rich and famous prefer the status quo, and rarely give newbies like Amanda and me a chance. Any company used by James Carson, however, will become a household name and that’s what I’m banking on.
Alec’s gaze moves from my face to my near-empty coffee mug with pink lipstick staining the rim. “I’m going to grab a coffee. Can I get you anything?”
“That’s my second cup. I’m already jittery,” I say, a little breathless as he gazes at me with those mesmerizing blue eyes.
One brow raises. “Lemon-filled doughnut?”
Okay, now I really can’t breathe. Why would he ask that, or even remember that? I open my mouth, but my damn voice is stuck in my tight throat, so I just shake my head no. He hesitates for a moment, and I take that opportunity to lower myself into my seat and dig my planner out from my bag. He smooths his hand over his tie again and turns, giving me a reprieve from his hot stare, and even hotter body. I take a fast breath and fuel my lungs. Honest to God, a man who had sex with me, and then walked away, shouldn’t remember my favorite kind of doughnut, or my favorite kind of anything. Damn him for giving me a moment of hesitation, a seed of hope that he might have actually cared about me the night I gave myself to him.
I open my planner with a little too much force, grab my pen and scribble “Alec Carson” on the first blank page. I don’t need to look up to know he’s back at the table with his coffee. His presence, and the warm enticing scent of fresh soap and something uniquely Alec—a crisp new day after a hard summer rain—reaches my nostrils. My stomach squeezes slightly. I pinch my eyes shut for a second, to darken all the images that are clamoring to resurface. Alec is a world-class jerk, and I’m not going to waste a second remembering the way he touched me that night, with such deft, gentle hands. Or the way he talked to me, using sweet soothing words, as he fucked me. Over.
He sits, and my gaze goes to his big hands as he drinks his coffee. Still black, no sugar. Some things never change. Then again, some things do, and maybe that’s for the best. I’m not sure I could work with him if I was still harboring a stupid schoolgirl crush.
Oh, but it was so much more than that, Megan.
“Okay,” I say, shutting down that inner voice and working not to sound as breathless as I feel. “I want to be honest with you. I’m an event planner, not a matchmaker, but I’ll do my very best to set up an appealing online profile for you and help find your soul mate.” He goes perfectly still for a moment, and then he laughs, and the dark, jaded sound raises the hair on my neck. “What?” I ask.
“I’m not looking for a soul mate, Megan.” He leans toward me. “I don’t even believe in marriage.”
I sit up a little straighter, and let my gaze roam his handsome face. Every visible muscle is strained, like an overtightened wire about to snap. “If you don’t believe in marriage,
