I headed outside and revved up my car, cutting through the city streets to make it to the edge of the park. I drove through the lot and spotted a beautiful silver Jaguar that I assumed was Jonathan’s.
How many ridiculously expensive cars does he own?
“Good morning.” He stepped out of the car and smiled at me. “How are you feeling today?”
“Great. You?”
“Perfect. Do you want to walk or run through the trail?”
“I want to run.”
“All five miles?” He tossed a jacket into his car. “Are you sure?”
“Are you not in shape? Would you prefer if we drove through the trail instead?”
He laughed. “I’m in excellent shape, Claire. I was just making sure you have the stamina to keep up with me.” He gave me a wicked grin and I immediately turned away and started running.
He was at my side within seconds and together we sprinted through the clay trail, weaving through the clove of trees. We kept pace with one another, never stopping to catch a breath.
Every now and then I could feel him looking over at me, maybe even smiling at me, but I was too focused on making it to the end of the trail to return his gazes.
Running had a way of calming my nerves, making me feel at peace, and I couldn’t focus on much else when my feet were hitting the pavement.
Once I crossed the five mile marker, I stopped and held my knees. I heard Jonathan slightly panting next to me.
“Most women I know can’t run one mile without stopping, let alone five...” He sounded impressed. “Have you always been a runner?”
“Hell no.” I sank down to the ground and stretched my legs. “I used to hate running...I’ve only been doing it for the past four years. How long have you been running?”
“All my life.” He slid his shirt over his head, revealing a sweaty set of washboard abs. He sat down next to me. “It’s one of the few things I’m very good at.”
There seemed to be a double meaning behind his words, and a part of me wanted to ask him to explain it, but I remembered the speech I’d given myself earlier. I didn’t need to pry into his personal life because I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.
I cleared my throat. “Oh...Well that sounds very—”
“How old are your daughters, Claire? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Sixteen.”
“They’re twins?” He raised his eyebrow. “Are they identical?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I couldn’t really tell them apart until they were three. That’s when they started developing their own little personalities and—”
Whoa. Overshare. Stick to basic information...
“You plan on ever finishing that sentence?” He smiled.
I didn’t respond. Between the beads of sweat that were trickling down his sculpted chest, his gorgeous eyes, and that ‘I-know-damn-well-you-want-me’ smile, I was trapped.
I slowly stood up and dusted the dirt off the back of my pants. “Um...we should probably head back now. I think we should run again.”
“So you won’t have to talk to me?”
Yes.
“No, that’s not it. I’m sure you have a million other things you could be doing right now so—”
“Not at all. I cleared my whole morning for you.”
Damnit...
“That was...” I looked away from him. “That was very nice of you, but I only have time for a run so—”
“Claire, you told me you were free last night, and I’m pretty sure nothing has changed between two a.m. and now. You and I are on a date, which means that since we’re not getting lunch or dinner, we are going to walk back together. Then our “miserable” date that I apparently forced you to come on will end, and you can pretend like you actually have some work to do.”
I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help it. “As long as we’re done by noon. I do have some things I have to do today.”
“Like what?”
“I have to sort through some more sPhone blue ideas for the upcoming campaign. Mr. Barnes wants us to pick a favorite by Monday and that’s going to take a miracle...”
“Speaking of which, why do you hate your job?”
“Telling the CEO why I hate my job? I don’t think so.”
“I won’t take it personal.” He motioned for me to start walking beside him. “I really want to know.”
“No you don’t.” I laughed.
“Tell me.”
I sighed. “In a nutshell: the employee benefits suck, cars should never be towed off the lot, directors should be allowed at least fifteen hours overtime a month, and working two years just to be eligible for one week of vacation? That’s ridiculous. Oh, and what’s the point in offering free coffee if there’s hardly ever any, and when there is, it tastes like shit? Just don’t offer any and save your money. And don’t get me started on that motivational idiot who made us put beanbags in our offices and gave us “Zen” journals. I could’ve given you a much better way to spend two million dollars.”
Jonathan stopped walking and looked down at me, right into my eyes. He was quiet for a long time, and then he burst into laughter. “Are you always this blunt?”
“You asked for the truth.”
“I think I’ve learned my lesson.” He smiled and started walking again.
I thought he would ask me more questions, or that I would feel compelled to ask him a few to make our walk easier, but I was actually enjoying the silence; I had the feeling that he was too.
Before I knew it, I could see the parking lot in the distance and the quarter mile marker straight ahead.
Jonathan followed me over to my car and before I could pull the door open, he gently grabbed me by my shoulders and turned me around.
He looked into my eyes again. “I know we didn’t talk much, but I had a great time today, Claire.”
“Me too...”
Silence.
I felt his fingers running through my damp hair, his hard chest pressed against mine.
My heart was beating an entirely new rhythm and no matter how hard I tried to control it, it only beat wilder and faster.
“I’m going to be in New York for a conference this week...” He readjusted my sweatband. “Can I take you out to dinner when I get back on Saturday?”
NO...No, you don’t want whatever he thinks this is to go any further...This does not need to turn into an every-weekend thing. That is not happening...Turn away from him and—
He raised his eyebrow. “Claire?”
I nodded.
“I need you to say it out loud.” He pushed my body against the car.
Silence.
He smiled. “What? No smart-mouthed comments about dinner on Saturday?”
“I think we should go Dutch...I don’t want you getting the wrong impression.”
“And what impression would that be?”
“That I’m attracted to you, because that still hasn’t changed.”
“You’re right.” He slipped his arms around my waist. “I wouldn’t dare think that. Is that a yes to Saturday?”
“It’s a maybe.”
I heard him laugh and then I felt his lips brush against mine—softly, gently, as if he didn’t want to completely kiss me. He slowly released me and stepped back.
“I’ll call you while I’m in New York. We’re going to make sure that maybe becomes a yes.”
Chapter 6
Jonathan
Why did I ever agree to come to this conference?
I sat in the front row of the Four Seasons’ ballroom and sighed as other software techies talked about their rise to fame and how they’d built their empires from the ground up. Normally, this type of thing would excite and inspire me, but all the techies this year were people I’d worked with before; I knew their success stories like the back of my hand.
The only thing different was the fact that I was the keynote speaker, and thousands of high school students were invited to come watch.
&
nbsp; As the CEO of Apple, Inc. finished his speech, I clapped and made sure my speech was still in my breast pocket.
“And now,” the conference host said as he walked onstage, “for the final speech of the night. Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to introduce our keynote speaker. Over the past nine years, he has become a force to be reckoned with in the software industry—breaking almost every sales record when it comes to the latest technology. His latest product, the sPhone blue, is due to debut this spring and has already earned fifty million dollars in pre-order sales!”
The audience clapped and my face appeared on the massive projector screens that flanked the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the host continued, “a man who needs no further introduction—CEO of Statham Industries, Mr. Jonathan Statham!
I stood up and made my way onto the stage, nodding at the standing ovation, waiting for the crowd to sit back down.
“Thank you all very much for inviting me to the annual Innovative Technology Conference.” I pulled my speech out of my pocket. “It’s an honor to be here, and I’ll do my best not to bore you for the next twenty minutes.”
The audience laughed.
I read my speech off with ease, making eye contact with the people I knew in the crowd, bracing myself for the worst part of being the keynote speaker: the extensive Q&A session.
For three hours I answered questions that had nothing—absolutely nothing to do with Statham Industries: “Are you single?” “What do you look for in a woman?” “How often do you work out?” “When do you plan on getting married?”
What’s worse was that my colleagues were playing along with the students and acting like these questions were completely normal; they even asked me a few questions about women and dating themselves.
When the Q&A session was finally over, I attended a smaller meeting with the top students in the country. Gratefully, I engaged in conversations that were solely about computer development.
It was ten o’ clock by the time I finished, and I made a conscious effort to disappear for the rest of the night.
I rode the elevator to the penthouse suite and headed straight to my bed, walking past the custom living room and double kitchens. I took off my jacket and turned on the light.
“Took you long enough!” My friend Stacy rolled off the bed wearing a silky piece of black lingerie. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming!”
I completely forgot about this...
Stacy was an international supermodel who I’d met earlier in my career. Back then, she was only doing local magazines and commercials, but I took a huge risk and made her the national spokesperson for my company’s first laptop.
The campaign was an overnight success—launching her into superstardom. We tried to do the relationship thing soon after, but we realized that we were better off as friends—with benefits.
“I’ve got strawberry, pina colada, wild berry, and spicy cinnamon. I personally prefer the wild berry lube because it’s a lot smoother and doesn’t leave a weird aftertaste, but I figured I’d let you pick this time. Oh! And, guess what I also brought?” She pulled a silver packet from her bra. “Ultra-ribbed for his and her pleasure! Sexy, right?”
I collapsed into a chair and laughed. “Sounds great, but I don’t feel like it tonight.”
“Excuse me? You don’t feel like it tonight? This is the third time you’ve been in New York and you’re turning me down again?”
“If my memory serves me correctly, you turned me down the other two times.”
“Those don’t count. We were drunk and I don’t do smashed sex.” She walked over to me and pretended to check my forehead for a fever. “Wait a minute. Are you and Audrey back together?”
“No.”
“Okay...Did you recently come out of the closet or something? Are you gay?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh my god! It makes perfect sense! All these years! That’s the real reason you dumped Audrey isn’t it? And the fact that I’m standing here half-naked and you’re not even hard makes it even clearer! So, who’s the lucky guy?” She started putting her clothes back on.
“Stacy, I’m far from gay. Trust me. I just don’t feel like it.”
“Umm hmmm.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “Then what’s her name?”
“Her who?”
She rolled her eyes and pulled me out of my chair. “If we’re not going to do anything, the least you can do is buy me a round, a real round, and tell me who ruined my chance at good sex for tonight.”
I followed her onto the elevator, up to the rooftop bar, and ordered us a few glasses of stiff drinks.
Any other night, she and I would be back in my hotel suite, having sex on every single surface, filling each other in on the random things that had happened in our lives. We would be laughing at the things we didn’t understand about each other’s careers: I never understood why the fashion industry took itself so seriously, and she could never comprehend the excitement behind innovative technology.
But tonight, when I saw her standing half naked in my bedroom, the only thing I could think about was Claire and her smart ass mouth.
“You ever date a younger guy, Stacy?” I spooned a lemon slice from my vodka.
“Yeah. Twice.”
“What happened?”
“The first guy was twenty-one when I was twenty-six, and the second guy was twenty-three when I was twenty-eight. That’s what happened...How old is she?”
“She just turned forty this past Friday.”
“Wow...”
“Wow, what?”
“Nothing, I just—wow...I actually think the whole ‘older woman-younger guy’ thing is kind of hot. Since she’s older, maybe she’ll help you out with some of your bedroom techniques.”
“I’ve never gotten any complaints.”
“It was a joke, Jonathan.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, why do you care about her age?”
“I don’t. She does.”
Stacy nodded. “That’s understandable. Well, just show her that it doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s just sex right? I’m sure when you two are going at it, your age is the last thing on her mind so—”
“We haven’t had sex.”
“What?” She clutched her chest. “Jonathan Statham has detailed a woman’s car, given her thousands of dollars in flowers and jewelry, been out with her twice, and hasn’t had sex with her? Who are you?”
“First off, I’m not that insatiable. Second off, I do want to have sex with her but—why am I even discussing this with you?”
“You like her, don’t you?”
I sighed. I didn’t want to continue this conversation. “How does it feel to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated for the second year in a row? I liked the red bikini on you. It was different.”
“You should call her tonight. You don’t have to do the whole ‘wait a week’ thing with an older woman. She’ll just write you off as—”
“I am going to call her tonight.”
“Damn. It’s even worse than I thought.” She laughed. “Good for you though. Anyway, it’s time for more drinks. I need at least seven more.”
“Whatever you say.”
It took a lot more than seven for her to feel satisfied, and since she passed out in middle of drinking one, I had to carry her down to her room.
Once I tucked her into bed and made sure that she could sleep without throwing up, I walked back up to my suite and called Claire.
“Hello?” She picked up on the third ring.
“Hello, Claire.”
“Um...Hi.” She sounded surprised. “How’s your conference going?”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been paying attention. How are things back at corporate?”
“Pretty great. There was a memo from the CEO today about the parking zones being permanently terminated. Everyone here is pretty excited since he’s finally pulled his head out of his ass.”
I laughed. “Do you practice insulting
people or are you naturally good at it?”
“I practice five hours a day.”
“Time very well spent. About dinner this Saturday night—”
“What about it?”
“What do I have to do to get you to say yes?”
She sighed. “Agree to let me pay for my own dinner.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because it sets boundaries between us and it won’t feel like a date.”
“It is a date.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be. I know you changed the company policy on dating, but us hanging out outside of the office is wrong, regardless of if you think so or not.”
“So you want me to fire you?”
“What! No, I don’t want you to—”
“Because I will, if that’s what it takes.”
She sighed. “Will you just let me pay for my own dinner?”
No...“Sure, Claire. I can let you do that. I made us a reservation at Michael Mina for eight o’ clock. Am I allowed to come pick you up or is that out of the question as well?”
“I’ll meet you there. I know where that is.”
Of course...
“Well, I’m looking forward to it. Have you come across any good campaign ideas yet?”
“Yeah.” There was a rustling of papers in the background. “Roses are red, sPhones are blue. I’m going to buy one and so should you.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“No, that was a real idea. It’s about to find a home at the bottom of my trashcan.”
“Great decision.”
She cleared her throat. “So, I take it that your conference is about—”
“I don’t want to talk about work, Claire. And I’m sure you don’t either. Let’s talk about you.”
She was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay...What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what you like to do in your free time.”
For hours, I listened to her talk about her favorite hobbies—dissecting interior design magazines, studying bridge architecture, running, and reading books. It was quite refreshing to talk to someone whose point of reference didn’t revolve around celebrity culture or the latest reality TV show.
Mid Life Love Page 9