The Fix Up (4 page)

Wait. What?
Is it possible that he’s attracted to me like I am to him?

That’s not something I ever considered, but he’s taken me here, been attentive and kind all night. And now he’s looking at me with dark, brooding, fuck-me eyes. Maybe this was his way of testing the waters, seeing if there’s mutual attraction and chemistry between us.

The thought is dizzying.

I’ll have to tread carefully, make sure I keep this strictly professional. It’s not that I’m opposed to a fling, simply because we work together and it may get awkward. No, I’m opposed to a fling because this man will be married in under six months’ time, if I do my job well, and I always do. I’m not going to be stupid enough to get involved with him and then end up with a broken heart when he rides off into the sunset with someone years younger, twenty pounds lighter, and of course, millions richer than I’ll ever be. No fucking thank you. My ego isn’t robust enough to withstand such torture.

Besides, I do have the bonus money to think of. Between the bill collectors calling me and being behind on my rent, I can’t overlook the fact that I’ve landed in a precarious situation, one I’m desperate to get out of.

“What’s next?” he asks finally.

“Now that I know what you’re looking for, I want to take some time to create a comprehensive game plan. Why don’t you come by my office on Monday, and we can go over everything?”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks his schedule. “I’m slammed at work next week. Are you free in the evening?”

“Yes, that might work perfectly. Meet me on Thursday at nine at Ex’s and Oh’s nightclub.”

“Fine. Thursday it is, then.”

It will actually give me the chance to see him in his native environment, understand which types of women he’s attracted to and watch him in action. And then I can develop a plan that will totally knock his socks off. Which is exactly what I plan to do.

“Shall we go, then?” he asks, and when I nod, he helps me from my chair.

There is just something so elegant about him. Maybe it’s because he’s British with his accented English and proper grammar, or it could be because he’s ridiculously attractive with his stylishly messy hair, square jawline, and tall, muscular physique.

His intelligence is sexy too. I know from poking around online that he’s a brilliant attorney who skated through undergrad and law school with impressive ease. Meanwhile, most days I feel like a hot mess. Sniffing the wrinkled clothes piled on top of my dresser to see if they can get one more wear out of them, and crunching on dry cereal on my way to work. I’m guessing that the deliciously well-put-together Sterling Quinn never has that issue.

I need to find him a classy woman. Someone smart and equally as well put together. He’s an educated man, and it’s refreshing to hear that he wants someone who is his equal. He’s not intimidated by intelligence; in fact, he welcomes it. The idea of someone to spar with, to hold a stimulating conversation with, excites him.

This will be my mission: to find him someone great. I just hope, in turn, it will force the not-so-innocent thoughts I harbor for him from my brain.

I shared more than I wanted to divulge tonight. Is it this sexy, sensual man who opened me up like a flower in bloom, or is the wine to blame?

Sterling kisses the back of my hand like a perfect gentleman, and tucks me inside a waiting taxi.

I watch, wistfully, as his form grows blurry in the distance.

Sterling

Thursday night, I head upstairs to the rooftop bar of the nightclub where Camryn suggested we meet. I’ve arrived early, wanting to get a table so I’m ready when she arrives.

It’s not a place I frequent regularly, but I’ve been here once or twice over the years. Its clientele is mostly single twenty-somethings looking to cut loose after a day at work. A sleek long stainless-steel bar top runs the length of one wall, bar stools lining it. Instead, I choose one of the high-top tables that sit under strands of white lights. The evening sky has turned dark, and the night air is cool but not yet cold.

This week dragged by at a snail’s pace. Between work and seeing the inside of a courtroom more times than I would like, I’m tired and on edge. It didn’t help that my uncle called almost daily inquiring about updates, and hopeful women still flocked, following me wherever I go.

But then I see Camryn heading up the stairs, and my sour mood drifts away. Strange how she has the ability to do that without saying a single word.

I rise from the high-top table and raise my hand in a wave. She spots me and smiles, a wide grin that reaches her eyes, before catching herself and fixing her mouth into a line again. But I saw it, her raw and honest reaction to me.

“Hi, Sterling,” she says while I pull out her chair.

“Hello, love. You look lovely this evening.”

Her light floral scent drifts up to tease me while I help her into the seat. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, and she’s dressed in jeans and a black top cut low enough to let me catch a glimpse of the swell of tempting cleavage.

The waitress swings by our table, and Camryn orders a fizzy champagne cocktail while I request a gin and tonic.

We make small talk by discussing our work weeks, and Noah and Olivia, and then it grows silent for a minute.

“So I know we know each other, but tell me more about you,” she says.

“What do you want to know?”

“Let’s see. You’re British. You like drinking tea. Before he got hitched, you and Noah wreaked havoc on ovaries around the city.”

“True, true, and fuck yeah.”

“God, you are crude,” she says with a chuckle.

“Hey, you brought it up. But yes, love, I like pussy.”

Her cheeks flush, and I give zero fucks about making her blush. There’s something in me that likes getting a rise out of her. In fact, I’d love to rile her up even more.

“As riveting as it is to discover you like the hole between a woman’s legs—”

“You can say the word, princess,” I say with a laugh.

She rolls her eyes. “Pussy. There. Are you happy?”

Grinning at her, I lean back in my seat. “Very.”

“So you say you’re ready to get married, but have you ever even had a long-term relationship?”

“I have,” I say. But that’s a story for another time.

Camryn doesn’t press me; she just takes another sip of her cocktail.

“Do you want kids someday?” she asks.

I rub the back of my neck. With kids comes a total life change. And until now, my life has been about me. Pursuing my career and the self-interests that bring me pleasure. Though I suppose when I get married, that will have to change too.

“Not sure. You?”

She smiles. “I do, actually. I’d like at least one. A little mini-me, someone to be my best friend.”

I can picture Camryn as a mother. She’d be one of those effortlessly cool mums. Not one of those with a gigantic diaper bag, mom jeans, and a permanent look of worry etched into her features. She’d make it fun. I have no doubt about that.

“I don’t have any siblings,” she continues. “So I guess I like the idea of building my own squad.” She giggles, and I wonder if the champagne cocktail she finished has gone to her head.

I signal the waitress, ordering another for her.

“That’s something you and I have in common. Only child,” I say, motioning to myself.

She meets my eyes, studying me carefully.

The idea of family is something I hold dear, and there’s something inside me that warms at hearing her say she wants to build a family. When my own happy family was split apart, I pretty much gave up all interest in the idea, but I’m starting to realize that with the right person by your side, anything is possible.

Camryn’s gaze drifts to the dance floor, which on a weeknight isn’t being used, but a group of girls in short cocktail dresses linger near the edge. I’ve paid them no mind, but it’s been hard to ignore the fact that they keep looking in our direction.

“They’re wondering what a man like you is doing with a girl like me,” Camryn says, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“What do you mean by that?” If she’s going to put herself down, I’ll have something to say about that.

She shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m not bothered by it. You’re attractive, and they’re interested. Simple as that.” She grabs her fresh drink, slowly draining it all, and I get the sense that she’s embarrassed.

“Fuck that.” I rise to my feet. “Come on.”

Camryn

I’m out with Sterling at the rooftop bar I suggested we meet at tonight. And though I try to ignore it, I can’t pretend the women ogling him don’t exist. He’s tall, deliciously attractive, and his commanding presence coupled with his British accent make him a magnet for women. That’s a fact.

I just didn’t expect it to bother me. I’m his matchmaker. He and I aren’t here on a date.

“Where are we going?”

“Out of here,” is all he says.

He grabs my hand, and as we pass, it’s impossible to ignore the group of girls giving me a death stare. His grip on my hand is tight, certain, as though he’s not planning to let go anytime soon.

When we stop on the street with cars and taxis zooming past, Sterling still hasn’t let go of my hand.

“Don’t let those girls bother you.” His tone is uncharacteristically soft.

I shake my head. “I’m a big girl, Sterling. I can handle the truth. Honestly, I’m fine.”

“You may not realize this, sweetheart, but once upon a time, I wanted to hook up with you.”

He takes a step forward and my heart lurches. Unsure what to do with this information, I chew on my lip.

“And you don’t anymore.” I place my hands on my hips and watch him.

He pushes his hands into his hair, looking eager, yet unsure. “I’d bend you over this rubbish bin right now if you’d let me.”

At this, I crack up laughing. Not only does he call a trash can a rubbish bin, which is adorable, but he suggests that we have sex on the sidewalk.

But mostly, I’m smiling because this sexy, confident, delicious man just told me that he finds me attractive. And more than that, he came to my rescue. In my experience, that isn’t something that men do anymore.

Last year when a bitchy waitress messed up my order twice and then suggested I was hard to please, David only laughed. I have a feeling that Sterling would have jumped to my defense, maybe even stormed out of the restaurant without tipping just to prove his point. David ate his tuna-salad sandwich while I sulked, waiting for my omelet to be remade. The jerk didn’t even offer me any of his fries.

Sterling tosses me a flirty wink, and I realize I still haven’t responded to his offer for public sex.

“As fun as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.” I elbow him in the ribs, and he chuckles.

“Come on.”

He takes my hand again and tows me off down the street. We walk for a long time, passing by little bakeries, family-owned restaurants, and dry cleaners while the city buzzes around us. We talk about family, and life, and our goals for the future, and I realize how much I’ve been missing the thoughtful conversation between a man and a woman.

Sterling

I grab my phone and dial Noah, watching as Camryn’s taxi carries her into the night.

“So, Camryn’s pretty fucking hot,” I blurt, my filter gone along with that last cocktail.

But holy shit, she really is. Tonight after leaving the bar behind, we walked and talked, and as simple as that sounds, it’s much more than I’ve shared with a woman lately.

Noah chuckles, and I hear Olivia shout something incoherent in the background.

“Oh my God! Do you like her? Like
really like
her?” Olivia asks excitedly.

“Fuck me. I’m on speakerphone, aren’t I?” Rubbing the back of my neck, I wait for Noah to answer.

“Sorry, buddy. Give me a second.”

I hear him speak in a hushed tone to Olivia, and then a click as he switches it from speakerphone.

“What in God’s name are you talking about?” he asks.

I stroll down the sidewalk, hoping the fresh air will help clear my head. “Would it be the worst thing in the world if I pursued Camryn?”

“What are you saying?”

“Camryn,” I repeat. She’s hot. She’s funny. Feisty. Smart. Why the fuck not?”

“Yes, I see where you’re going with this, good buddy, but did you forget about the inheritance? You’re supposed to get married.”

“Yes, I know that. And Camryn’s supposed to help me.”

“Sterling, you’re going to have to dumb it down for me. I just spent the last three hours looking at paint colors with names like weathered moss and mossy linen. What are you saying? You want to date her while you’re looking for your wife? Have you lost it, buddy?”

Rolling my eyes at my friend’s idiocy, I hit the button for the street signal. “I’m saying, what if I continue working with her under the guise of finding a wife, but really, I’m wooing her.”

Silence.

“Noah?” I pull back the phone and glance at it for a second, wondering if the line went dead.

“I think it’s ridiculously stupid,” he finally says.

I hail a cab at the corner, and when one stops, I hop inside and direct him uptown. “How so?”

Noah scoffs. “If you like her, just tell her how you feel. Man up; ask her out for real.”

“That won’t work. First, there’s no way Camryn is going to just quit. She wants to see me get that inheritance, and of course, she wants her bonus at the end of this.”

Noah scoffs, but he knows I’m right.

There’s no way I’m walking away from my inheritance, and for what? A shot at a date? That would be crazy. Not when my mum is counting on me.

And there’s absolutely no way Camryn will agree to date me if she knows I’m still planning on getting married at the end . . . but I have no choice in the matter.

It must be the alcohol talking, because I sound crazy. I give Noah an excuse and shove the phone in my pocket. I really need to get my head in the game.

Once back inside my apartment, I leave the lights off, finding my way in the darkness easily. It’s an open-air loft and essentially just one big room. Sidestepping around the dining table and sofa, I find the wall that separates my bedroom from the living area and enter my room.

Reaching down, I grip my cock that has been hard ever since Camryn walked up the stairs to the bar, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
Fuck
. The soft swell of cleavage under her low-cut top was mesmerizing. And the way she challenged me, probing, trying to tease out what I was looking for. She’s inquisitive, open, outspoken. Beautiful. The way she stood up for herself when those women made her feel inferior. I still feel as though I’m in a fog.

I strip my shirt off over my head, and tug my boxers and jeans down my thighs.

My erection stands tall and ready, and I stroke in quick pulls, right there in the center of my bedroom. Needing to relieve tension that her unexpected presence in my life is causing, I move my hand up and down in even strokes, my breath pushing past my lips with the exertion.

With thoughts of Camryn swirling in my brain, my climax comes faster than I expected, and I come in the wadded-up T-shirt still clutched in my hand.

I throw the shirt away because I don’t want to deal with that shit come laundry day, and get cleaned up. Sinking into my king-sized mattress, I let out a heavy sigh.

What the fuck is happening to me?

That orgasm didn’t even come close to taking the edge off. I’m still keyed up. Yet the text message from Rebecca, that I’m sure is a booty call, holds no appeal. I shove my phone aside without responding.

For years, the only thing I was sure of was that I never wanted to get married, and now that I’m faced with the fact that I need to, the one girl who suddenly looks very appealing is the only one I can’t have.

Of all the fucked-up situations to find myself in, this is one I never imagined.

Noah was right. Asking Camryn out would be insane. It would be suicide. She’d call off this whole thing, and I’d be worse off than I am now. I’m building toward my goal of being able to take better care of my mum. I need to remind myself of that.

Lying there, staring up at the ceiling fan whoosh in lazy circles, I try to solve the puzzle buzzing through my brain. Do I really like her? Or do I only want her because she’s the one thing I can’t have right now?

Maybe it’s only the latter. Maybe she’s merely a good distraction for the shit show that is my life at the moment.

Running a hand through my hair, I know that’s not it.

At least, I’m fairly certain it’s not.

I like her. Deep down, I really like her.

Lying here in the dark cloak of night, I make a deal with myself. I can spend more time with her—hell, I can even mess around with her if things come to that point—but I promise myself one thing. I won’t hurt her, won’t lead her on and make her believe this could be more. I’m going to be married in the next six months, and I know that true, everlasting love is a false promise that only lovesick fools would believe in.

Life doesn’t fucking work that way.