The Rebound Guy (2 page)

“The third,” Asia confirmed.

“I knew it. Cortland Robinson Stewart the Third. Can you get more pretentious?”

“Goodbye,” Asia said, returning to the sofa. She stretched out across it, facing the fifteen-foot-high window with a view of downtown Manhattan. She settled the computer across her lap. “There’s an envelope on the bar in the kitchen. Buy yourself a new bicycle helmet with what’s in it.”

“What’s wrong with the one I have?” India held up the dented helmet covered with swaths of gray electrical tape.

Asia just stared at her.

“Okay, okay,” her sister said. She came over and gave Asia a peck on the cheek. “Call me if you need any more moral support.”

Asia snorted as she returned her focus to the computer. She heard the refrigerator open. Moments later, India called, “Were you planning on eating that block of cheese? Or those cold cuts?”

“Take them,” Asia replied.

“What about the loaf of bread?”

Asia growled. Loudly.

“
Okay
. I’m gone,” her sister said. A minute later the front door opened and closed quickly.

Asia released a tired breath and got back to the summation of the Noah Rochester incident. The senior Noah was CEO of Rochester Capital, an up-and-coming conservative-minded venture-capital firm and one of Global Partners Public Relations’ newest clients. As head of Global Partners PR’s crisis-management division, the overwhelming task of cleaning up Noah II’s most recent attempt to enter the Millionaire Brats Behaving Badly Club fell on Asia’s shoulders.

A half hour later, she emailed the report to the other five people on her team, attaching an electronic meeting notice for the next morning. She quit the word-processing program and found the article India had been reading still open on her computer screen.

Do you find yourself single after years of loving a man you only
thought
you knew? Are you unsure why your man left in the first place? The Rebound Guy can help you figure it out
.

“Great, I’m the Rebound Guy’s target audience.”

Asia put the laptop in hibernation mode and set it on the coffee table.

She refused to think of herself as single. She was
not
single. She was just in a relationship with a man who should have a better understanding of her demanding work schedule. Cortland was legal counsel at Global Partners. He knew how the firm operated.

He was hurt, but he was not “done,” as he’d texted last night. His pride was bruised because she’d ruined his plans. She would go over to the apartment he’d shared with his best friend Rodney, where she was pretty sure he’d hauled his things, and straighten this out.

“Soon.” She yawned as she stretched out on the sofa. Right now, she would get some much-needed sleep. After a long night of putting out fires and not returning home until nearly four a.m., she deserved a few moments of rest.

***

Dexter Bryant jogged up the steps of the four-story red-brick brownstone that housed his one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn’s Boerum Hill neighborhood. The leash he held in his right hand pulled taut as his Pomeranian stopped short and emitted a low growl.

“Come on, Rox.” Dexter tugged at the leash. She didn’t give an inch. “Roxie, come.”

The stray gray and black tabby that had been loitering around the brownstone pounced from behind a garbage can at the curb. Roxie went into attack mode, jerking the leash so hard it nearly flew out of Dex’s grip. He bent down and scooped the dog into his arms.

“Quiet down, Killer,” he said, running his fingers through Roxie’s coarse coat as he entered the building’s compact lobby and climbed the stairs two at a time to his third-floor walk-up. He turned Roxie loose as soon as they entered the apartment. He rinsed out her bowl, filled it with fresh water, and set it in the corner Roxie had commandeered the day he and Ebony had brought her home.

Three years later, he still had Roxie. Ebony he’d let go.

Dex pulled off his sweaty t-shirt on his way to the bathroom. He turned on the waterproof shower radio his sister had sent for his birthday and cranked up NPR, then he stripped out of his running shorts and hopped into the shower. As the water beat down on his head, Dex massaged his right shoulder. He’d added an English Setter to his Thursday morning dog grouping, and as was the breed’s nature, this one was an adventurer. The dog had attempted to sniff every tree, rock, and park bench they’d passed on the morning’s walk.

Dex remained under the spray until the hot water turned lukewarm. When he finally got out of the shower, he toweled himself dry, wrapped the towel around his waist, and headed for the Spartan kitchen.

After grabbing a bottle of water, he checked his work schedule scribbled on the dry-erase side of the magnetized cork-and-dry-erase-board combo on the fridge. He grimaced when he noticed that Bruno, the Anderson’s Mastiff, was on tap for tomorrow. Dex rolled his shoulder. It was in for another workout. Thankfully, the other two dogs in tomorrow’s grouping were both midsize breeds.

“Except for you, right, Rox?”

Roxie’s ears perked up, but her head stayed firmly planted on her plaid dog bed.

Dexter turned to the narrow bar separating the kitchen and living room. Leaning his elbows on the laminate, he flipped open the cover on his iPad. He tapped the screen and pulled up Alena Saunder’s
Guys and Gals in the Big Apple
blog. She’d sent him a text message late last night, letting him know his interview would be published online today. It had taken much arm-twisting by Alena, but he’d reluctantly agreed to the interview after realizing it would be a good way to test the public’s perception of his business.

Dex blew out an exasperated sigh when he read the article’s title: “The Rebound Guy.”

“You had to go there, huh?”

Alena had been the one to choose that moniker. At first, he’d balked at the label, yet he’d soon accepted that it was probably the most accurate way to describe the service he provided. But Dex wanted to distance himself from the unseemly connotation associated with the phrase. His vision for his business transcended being just a stand-in date.

The first couple of paragraphs read like an advertisement for some two-bit escort service, validating his initial resistance to doing this kind of publicity in the first place. He’d read Alena’s blog before; he should have known she would sensationalize the topic to within an inch of its life. Dexter grudgingly gave her the benefit of the doubt, figuring she needed a salacious element to pull readers in.

The rest of the article provided a fairly accurate accounting of what his business entailed and how he wanted to move forward in the future as a relationship advisor.

If anyone could do the interview justice, it was Alena. She had first-hand knowledge of the services he provided, seeing as she was his very first client and the only one Dex had allowed himself to remain in contact with. Although he and Alena had zero romantic chemistry—a very good thing given the nature of his business—they had discovered that, as best friends, they were a perfect match.

Dex scrolled down the page. He did a double take when he saw the comments. There were over a hundred. He took his water bottle and the iPad over to the dark-brown faux-leather couch and sat, balancing the electronic tablet on his lap.

The comments were mixed, with opinions ranging from people who considered him a glorified male whore to those who thought it was an ingenious way to score women. Only a few people commented that he was providing a unique and valid service, but even a couple of those commenters remarked on the sexual aspects of his occupation.

“I don’t sleep with
all
the women,” Dex muttered.

This reaction was what he’d been afraid of when Alena had first suggested an interview. Legitimizing exactly what he did for a living was a constant struggle. He knew his work had merit, but even
he
couldn’t accurately put into words what made him different from a run-of-the-mill escort. He needed to get across to people that it wasn’t all about “scoring women.” He was an advisor, not a random hookup.

In fact, over the past year and a half he’d come to think of his work as being damn near heroic. He saved women from guys who would have no qualms about taking advantage of them when they were most vulnerable. In the same vein, he spared men the potential heartache they would face after discovering the relationship they thought was real was nothing more than a means for their new girlfriend to pass the time while she waited for her next long-term mate.

Rebounding was a part of the healing process after a tough breakup. He helped women get through that process. He was a healer.

“A healer. I’ll have to write that one down,” Dex said as he continued to scroll through the comments.

The more he read, the more relieved he was that he’d insisted the interview be anonymous. It was apparent from the comments that the general public was not ready for his brand of hands-on professional relationship advice.

“Guess we won’t be advertising in the
Yellow Pages
, Rox,” Dex said with a heavy sigh. He would have to figure out a way to change people’s opinions if he was going to make his job a career.

Currently all of his business came through referrals. In his line of work he had to be selective, and the past clients who referred potential customers knew to give his information only to legitimate prospects.

Not every woman needed a rebound guy. Many were strong enough to handle the emotional turmoil that ensued after a bad breakup, but for those who had a difficult time moving forward, Dex was there to provide emotional support. Some needed a shoulder to cry on or an understanding ear to listen while they bitched about their ex. Sometimes a woman just needed to know that she still had it. He’d become a pro at building up shattered confidence.

Dex logged into his email account and found one from Alena with the word URGENT written in all caps in the subject line. He read over the email that had been forwarded from [email protected]. It seemed legit. At least legitimate enough for him to reply and possibly set up a meeting. He had concluded business with his latest client just this past week; he was ready for the next one.

Dexter’s Dog Walking Service brought in enough income to take care of a few incidentals here and there, but it was his
other
enterprise that paid the bills. There was never a shortage of women on the rebound, and a remarkable number of them were willing to pay his $1500 per week consulting fee.

With his iPad in hand, Dexter rose from the couch, losing his towel in the process. He picked up his cell phone from where he’d set it on the kitchen counter and dialed the number in the email.

“Let’s see what you’re all about,” he looked down at the name at the bottom of the email, “India Carpenter.”

Chapter Two

Asia took a sip of her coffee and quickly spit the cold liquid back into the mug. How long had it been sitting there? How long had
she
been sitting
here
?

She peeked at the time at the bottom of her computer screen. Where had the past two hours disappeared to?

She buzzed her assistant. “Ben, can you please bring me a cup of coffee?”

“Coming right up,” Benjamin Tanner answered. “I just brewed a fresh pot.”

In less than a minute, the intern appeared, carrying a bright green Global Partners PR mug with wisps of steam trailing behind him.

Asia took the mug and pulled in a deep breath of the extra bold brew.

“I swear if your position was a paid one I’d give you a raise,” she said. She wouldn’t be surprised if she shed a tear or two when Ben’s internship ended at the end of the month. The kid was pure gold.

“I’ll take a glowing letter of recommendation,” Ben answered as he exited the office.

“Goes without saying,” Asia called after him. She returned her attention to the chart on her computer, then buzzed Ben again. “Can you make sure Conference Room D is cleared? I have a meeting with my team in there in twenty minutes.”

“Got it,” Ben answered.

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” Asia called. She looked up from the computer to find Cathy Dennison from the speech-writing division poking her head through the opening in the door.

“I was just dropping in to see how you were doing,” Cathy said.

“Um, just fine,” Asia said.

“That’s good to hear,” Cathy said with a sympathetic smile, before waving and backing out of the door.

Asia stared at the door in confusion, but she didn’t have the mental energy to discern what that brief visit had been about. She returned her attention to the computer. Moments later, Ben’s voice came through the phone again. “There’s someone here to see you. He says you two have an appointment.”

“What’s the name?” She frowned, pulling up her Outlook calendar.

“Dexter Bryant,” Ben answered.

Not only did she not have an appointment listed, she couldn’t recall ever hearing the name before. Although, as busy as she had been these past few weeks, she wouldn’t be surprised if something had finally fallen through the cracks.

Cortland used to tease her, telling her that she must have had dreams of being Wonder Woman as a little girl. But her attempts at being Wonder Woman had suffered several blows lately.

“Send him in,” Asia said. A moment later, she heard the door to her office open. She put up a finger. “One minute,” she said as she saved the document she had been working on.

She looked up and the moisture in her mouth instantly evaporated at the sight of the man standing just inside her door. He was clean-shaven, with almond-brown skin and the prettiest light-brown eyes that she had ever seen on a man. He wouldn’t be drafted by the NBA, but he was taller than average; lean, but with broad shoulders that filled out his suit coat to perfection.

Her very first thoughts were unconscionably inappropriate on several fronts, both personal and professional. But she had always been a sucker for a man who wore a suit well. And he wore the charcoal gray pinstripe
very
well.