by Kendall Ryan
“Okay. Race, religion, politics . . . anything important I should know? Any particular quirks, such as a foot fetish or a breast man, things like that I need to be aware of?”
“Not really,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m fairly open.”
“Well then, I think I have enough to work with for now. I can begin assembling some candidates for you to consider.”
Sterling rises from the chair and stalks straight toward me. “One more thing, love.” His voice is low, and the sultry sound goes straight to my clit. “Preferably bare,” he adds in barely a whisper.
My knees tremble, and I force a breath into my lungs.
“Are you going to write that in your little notebook?”
“I think I can remember that.” Actually, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that detail.
Sterling checks his wristwatch, a platinum-and-gold number that looks expensive. “Are you free Wednesday night, by chance?”
“For?” I thought we were through here.
“To hang out.”
Hang out? I doubt that’s a good idea. “Oh, I, um. I need to check my schedule.”
He rises to his feet, then nods. “Brilliant. Ring me and let me know.”
I’m in a daze, but I find myself rising and nodding back at him. “Have a good evening.”
“Good-bye, Anna,” Sterling says on his way out the door.
I’d totally forgotten about Anna.
“Ho. Ly. Shit!” Anna blurts the second he’s gone. “That was freaking intense!”
I want to blow her off, to downplay what just happened. Instead, I lean against the side of my desk and pull deep breaths into my lungs.
“Seriously? That was crazy. I need a cigarette right now,” Anna says, smiling at me. “And I don’t even smoke.”
“Don’t read more into this than is there. He’s charming and was just trying to be funny. That’s all.”
I fall back into my chair and try to focus on my laptop screen. But it might as well be written in Mandarin for all I can decipher. Sterling has left me completely and utterly flustered.
“He wants to hang out?” Anna giggles. “Is that a euphemism for something sexy where he’s from?”
“Of course not; don’t be silly.” But hell, part of me wants to google it just to be sure. “Let’s just get back to work.”
Anna sighs, but heads back to her desk.
I can’t help but wonder about his past. How many lovers has he had? I don’t know his dating history, and when I asked if he’s ever had a real relationship, he didn’t give me a full answer. I only know about the string of one-night stands he’s had over the years. He’s never been obvious about it, but I’ve gathered enough from hanging around Olivia and Noah to understand that Sterling has no problem taking a different woman home every weekend.
As my curiosity grows, I try to convince myself I’m only interested in the details because of my role.
Who am I kidding?
Not Anna. And not myself.
Jealousy bubbles up inside me, and I want to know who he’s dated, who he’s slept with. Closing my eyes for a second, I scold myself silently, because I have no right to be jealous.
“So, are you going to do it?” Anna asks, interrupting my sour thoughts.
“Do what?”
“Hang out with him?”
Chewing on my lip, I consider it. “I don’t know. I might . . .”
“Then you should totally do it.” Anna nods.
I can see where her loyalties lie. First, I need some answers.
I grab my cell and dial Sterling’s number.
“Hey, Camryn. Did I forget something at your office?” he asks.
“No, I just . . . I had some questions for you.”
“Of course. What’s on your mind?”
“Well, when you said hang out, what did you mean?”
Anna’s hand flies over her mouth and her eyes widen.
No sense in beating around the bush.
I can almost hear the smile in Sterling’s voice when he replies. “What do you want it to mean?”
Straightening my shoulders, I sit up taller in my chair. “Oh no, you don’t, mister. Before I agree to spend time with you, there are a few things I need to know.”
“Go for it.”
“How many women have you slept with?”
“Pardon?” Sterling coughs.
Anna is on her feet, making slashing motions across her throat with her hand.
“Your number. What is it?” My tone is calm, controlled. I’m actually enjoying this.
“Is that information you need as my publicist, or as the woman I’ve asked to hang out?”
“Just answer the question, Sterling. Or can you not count that high?”
He lets out a sigh, so brief I can barely hear it. For a second, I’m sure he’s going to dodge the question.
“Enough to know what I’m doing. Not enough to make me a total fucking wanker.”
I laugh, despite myself. It’s actually a good response.
“Let me make this clear for you. I like you, Camryn. We’re both adults, and there’s no reason why we can’t hang out and enjoy each other’s company without it turning weird.”
What the hell does that mean? I’m more confused now than before. Maybe this is his last hurrah before becoming a married man.
“I’m not quite sure what to say.”
“We have fun together. Let’s keep it casual and fun; we both deserve that.”
The man has a point.
“But you’re about to be married,” I say.
“Not tomorrow. Not the next day.”
“But soon.”
He exhales. “Yes, and that’s kind of stressing me the fuck out, so I could use a little downtime with someone who gets me.”
I swallow.
“Say yes,” he murmurs.
“Sterling . . .”
“I would never hurt you,” he adds softly.
“Fine, but I’m not having sex with you.”
Anna is now lying on the floor of my office, her face scrunched up in agony, her head in her hands.
“We’ll see,” he says.
A girly bubble of laughter escapes my lips, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. I want to bitch-slap myself for that outburst. But Sterling only seems amused.
“Seriously, don’t worry. Don’t overthink this. Everything will be fine,” he says. “I promise.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Okay then. Wednesday. Where should I meet you?”
Anna breaks out into a huge grin.
“My flat. At seven.”
Sterling’s sexy deep voice sends a tingle down my spine. My cheeks are bright red when I hang up the phone.
His flat. It’s cute that he calls his apartment a flat. How very British of him.
Anna lets out a small squeal as she jumps up.
I hold up my hand. “Not one fucking word.”
“Poop stick,” she says and sticks out her tongue, but goes back to her desk.
I spend the rest of the work day trying to make peace with his explanation, to talk myself into this non-date. I weigh the pros and cons, push the women of his past (and future) out of my mind. But I hate the thought that past girlfriends know intimate details about him—how he tastes, how he fucks, how it feels to sleep beside him all night—all things that I will never know or get the chance to do.
I say good night to Anna and pack up my things. The entire way home, I argue with myself. Part of me wants to just go with it. The other part of me knows this is a recipe for disaster.
My e-mail is full with the first round of applicants, and I know I’ll be spending the evening with a big glass of wine and a bunch of women who could be Sterling’s future wife.
I’m just going to have to tell Sterling. Our hanging out is stupid. Not when there’s so much on the line.
I take a deep breath and remember that he promised it was casual fun, nothing more.
Don’t make a big deal out
of this.
But it feels impossible not to.
Chapter Twelve
Sterling
At ten to seven on Wednesday night, I take one last glance around my flat. It hasn’t been this spotlessly clean since . . . well, ever, probably. I straightened, dusted, vacuumed, and sanitized for the last hour and a half.
My balcony, which was the whole reason I bought this place, has been transformed. Over the weekend, I picked up a soft blue outdoor rug with tassels on the ends, along with several large throw pillows in navy and cream. They’re scattered about on the rug, and an overturned basket sits in the center—a makeshift table that holds a bottle of wine and two glasses.
The couple of plants I’ve had out here since I moved in were dead, so I replaced those too. Two large pine-tree-shaped shrubs sit in gold pots and are decorated with white twinkle lights. The city lights in the distance and the soft hum of the distant traffic below add character. It’s cozy and quiet up here, but there’s no forgetting we’re in the middle of New York City. It lends a certain ambience that’s one of a kind. I like it.
I didn’t trust myself to make something elaborate, but still, the food smells great. Jumbo shrimp sautéed in butter with angel-hair pasta tossed in olive oil and white wine. It’s simple, yet elegant. I’m hoping she likes it. I never thought to ask if she likes seafood. If she doesn’t, we can always order pizza.
Pleased, I head into my bathroom, wanting to wash my hands and change my shirt before she arrives. I toss the T-shirt I was wearing into the laundry basket and check my appearance in the mirror. I have no expectations for tonight, but there’s no denying I’ve put more effort into this non-date than I ever put into a regular date.
After washing my hands, I splash a little cologne onto my jaw, then pull on a light-blue cotton button-down.
Even though I’ve forbidden myself from falling for Camryn, I’m excited to see her tonight. Unhealthy as it may be, I’m becoming attached to seeing her smile, getting a rise out of her, and spending time with her.
Strange as it sounds, I’m coming to look forward to her presence in my life. I didn’t realize it until now, but I’ve been living a lonely existence until she happened into my life. Nights out with bright lights and fast women have been replaced by nights in with one very hard-to-get woman. An interesting fucking turn in events is what it is.
As I check on things in the kitchen one last time, I can’t help but recall Camryn’s phone call asking about my dating history. Rebecca and I dated for eight months last year, if you can even call it that. Our only connection was work. She’s an associate attorney in family law at the firm I work at, and a few nights a week, we got together at her place or mine.
But she wasn’t really a girlfriend. A couple of fuck sessions a week, ordering takeout while we sat on my couch with our laptops poring over depositions, wasn’t a relationship, wasn’t the companionship I crave deep down. She was just filling the empty space for a time, but that ran its course. She still calls every now and then, but the idea of spending time with her just doesn’t excite me anymore.
Ever since my mum got sick and my dad buggered off, I’ve felt more alone than I’d like to let on. Other than a few one-night stands here and there to take the edge off, I haven’t had anyone close to me in a long time. I’m not the world’s biggest manwhore like people say I am. Of course I enjoy female company, but that’s not all that my life’s about. I’ve convinced myself true love only exists in fairy tales, but that doesn’t mean I’m immune to female charm. Of course I want a woman in my life.
And what Camryn has to offer is exactly what I’ve been missing. Easy companionship without any of the weird guessing games, intelligent conversation with a woman, someone who keeps me on my toes.
Unsure what to make of that revelation, I’m pulled away from the kitchen by my ringing phone. The number shows that it’s my uncle Charles. I answer it immediately as the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong stirs in my gut.
“Yes?”
“Sterling? It’s Charles.”
“Has something happened?”
“Yes. I’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour and a half.”
I realize I’ve been cleaning and cooking, preparing for my date, and feel a sharp and immediate pang of guilt. “What’s going on?”
“It’s your mum. She suffered a bad episode tonight.”
My intention was to go and visit her earlier when I left work, but traffic had been brutal so I abandoned my trip, opting instead to come home and prepare for tonight.
“What happened? Why didn’t they call me?”
“They tried. I’m next on the list of contacts.”
I look at my phone and realize that I missed a half dozen calls because I was too busy getting ready for my date to be there for my mum.
“Everything is handled. For now.”
Fuck. I was distracted, and wasn’t there when my mum needed me.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
Charles lets out a heavy sigh. “She couldn’t remember where she was. Tried to harm herself.”
My vision blurs and I see red. “What?” I roar. “Is she okay?” Tearing one hand through my hair, I wait in agony for him to answer.
“For now. They had to sedate her, and she’s resting in her room.”
Mum hasn’t had an episode like that in over a year. The doctor’s warnings about her medicine losing its effectiveness over time ring in my head. All the more reason why I need to get her the best care money can buy. But the cost of her medicines alone each month is twice my mortgage. I’ve done the best I can, but it’s time to do better.
Charles releases a deep sigh. “I’m telling you, you’ve got to get her out of that place. You’ve got to get this inheritance. How’s the process coming? You need to be married. There’s no other way.”
“I know, okay? I’m working on it. Camryn’s helping me. She’s been great.”
Charles releases a sharp exhale. “Don’t go falling for the help. She’s a pretty face, but don’t lose focus. Your mum is counting on you, Sterling.”
“I know, all right?” Anger flares inside me, making me resentful that Charles called Camryn a pretty face. She’s so much more than that.
The sinking feeling in my chest balloons, and I force a breath into my lungs. “I can be there in forty minutes. Forty-five, tops.”
“There’s no need, Sterling. She’s sleeping now. She’ll sleep through the night with the dosage they gave her. Why don’t you just go over in the morning?”
“Okay.” I hang up, fighting the urge to punch something.
There’s no playbook for how to handle it when your loved one’s health begins to fade. I’m losing her piece by piece, and I fucking hate it.
I wander out onto the balcony where the romantic scene seems to mock me. Looking out onto the maze of streets below, I know I shouldn’t be here about to wine and dine a woman like Camryn. I should be with my mum, who needs me. I should stick to the fucking plan and do everything in my power to make sure I get that inheritance check, just like my uncle said.
It’s time to grow up and stop believing in silly fantasies that won’t get me anywhere.
Chapter Thirteen
Camryn
I arrive at Sterling’s building at exactly seven with a smile on my lips.
I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready for this non-date/hang-out session tonight. After leaving work early, I rushed home to shower and redo my makeup. Now I’m dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans, and since the fall air is cool enough to warrant it, my favorite deep V-neck ivory cashmere sweater with my secret weapon underneath—my lace push-up bra in the softest cream silk. Once I added some layered gold necklaces, I was set. I felt pretty without being overdone.
The building’s doorman asks for my name and ushers me inside like he was expecting me. I’m instructed to take the elevator to the tenth floor, and go to unit 1001.
Taking a deep breath, I step onto the elevator and
punch the button for the tenth floor. I have no idea what hanging out with Sterling will involve, but I’m nearly giddy with anticipation. I stop at his door and knock twice, my mouth already twitching with a smile.
After waiting about a minute with no answer, I press my ear to the door. It’s quiet inside, no sounds of music, no footsteps, so I knock again.
And wait, my smile fading.
Still nothing.
I twist the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, let myself inside.
Sterling’s place is compact, but modern and classy. It suits him. After a quick glance around the living space, I spot him on the balcony outside, just beyond the glass doors at the far end of the living room. He’s facing away from me, his hands gripping the railing, his head bowed.
My smile from moments ago is gone. Seeing him like this—looking distraught—brings the reality of our situation crashing back.
Sterling suddenly turns and we lock eyes. A thousand emotions are revealed in his eyes, but mostly there’s anger. There’s also a sadness in his gaze that I’ve never seen. It’s haunting.
I swallow a lump in my throat, wondering what’s going on.
“Sterling?” I ask, slowly approaching the balcony.
It’s beautiful—plush pillows and twinkling lights, and a chilled bottle of white wine all nestled together in a romantic picnic for two.
He lets out a heavy sigh and runs one hand through his hair.
“This is beautiful,” I say since he hasn’t spoken, hasn’t even moved from the spot where he’s rooted, and his stony silence is killing me. “Are you okay?”
“Just fine,” he says curtly, his gaze looking past me.
He doesn’t seem fine. He seems off. Why go through all the effort if he’s just going to act sullen and withdrawn?
And what could have possibly changed in the twenty-four hours since we last spoke on the phone? He seemed so excited—like he hadn’t a care in the world. Now it seems he doesn’t want me here.
“If this is a bad time, if tonight doesn’t work . . .” I trail off, my voice suddenly shaky.