The Rebound Guy (10 page)

India gasped. “Oh, I want him!” she said. India had always wanted a dog while growing up, but Asia had had a run-in with their neighbor’s Rottweiler when she was eight. Ever since, she had feared even the smallest canine.

“It’s not just the dog-walking thing,” Asia said. “This whole setup he has, this ‘relationship advisor’ thing, it’s just too out there. I told him I think it’s a scheme for catching women.”

“Well, he caught you.”

“He did not
catch
me. We have a business arrangement. He will be my pretend man toy for the next month, and I will save face in front of my ex-fiancé and his whore.”

Asia grimaced, chastising herself for calling Nina a whore. She had nothing against Nina. She had actually liked her, before.

But Nina knew Cortland was engaged when she’d started dating him behind Asia’s back. “Whore” fit the bill perfectly.

“Flaunt that hottie in front of both their faces,” India urged.

“Oh, I will.”

Because when it came to a hot man toy, Dexter fit
that
bill perfectly.

Mere seconds after pushing the speedometer past the eighty miles per hour mark, the red and blue lights of a New Jersey State Police cruiser lit up behind her.

“Oh, shit. I have to go,” she told her sister, and disconnected the call.

She hoped the State Trooper’s lights were whirling for another speeder, but had those hopes dashed when he pulled right up to her car. Asia pulled onto the Turnpike’s wide shoulder and dropped her head to the steering wheel.

If she didn’t already hate Noah Rochester, II, she did now.

She didn't even try to sweet talk the officer, just accepted her speeding ticket and continued on her way. When she arrived at the Mandarin Oriental she was informed that the hotel's general manager had already left for the evening.

“Of course he has,” Asia sighed.

She scheduled a reminder in her phone to be back at the hotel first thing tomorrow morning. As she was exiting onto Columbus Circle she nearly ran straight into Noah the Second.

“I can take care of this,” he started in that cocky, know-it-all way he had about him.

Oh, did he pick the wrong week to mess with her.

She moved in close, getting right in his face. “You do
nothing
,” she bit out. “Listen very carefully. I'm here to clean up your mess. In order for me to do my job, I need you to stay the hell away from here. Do you hear me, Noah? Do not let me find out that you were within a mile of this place.”

She put her hand up when he opened his mouth to speak. “Just nod,” Asia said.

“But I was—”

“
Just
nod.”

He nodded, looking as if he was ready to spit fire. Asia couldn't care less. This over privileged little shit had caused her more grief in the past few weeks than any client she’d had in the past year. She thought about the speeding ticket and tacked that onto her growing list of grievances against Noah Rochester, II.

A former co-worker had given Asia the nickname “Clean-up Woman” because of her ability to clean up any mess with ease, but the younger Noah would benefit a hell of a lot more if he was made to suffer the consequences of his actions. Unfortunately, his father’s company would suffer, too, which meant Asia had to continue to clean things up.

It was nights like tonight when she really questioned her choice of career.

***

Dexter lounged on his sofa, one hand gliding along Roxie’s head, the other holding a book on how anxiety and exhaustion affect relationships. The book, which he’d picked up while rummaging through a college bookstore’s clearance aisle, had been on his shelf for months, sandwiched between the dozens of other psychology manuals and self-help books he had collected over the past few years. It wasn’t until he’d sat across the table from Asia at the Mexican restaurant that it had dawned on him. The woman needed to relax.

He’d dealt with workaholics before, and just as with those previous clients, Dexter sensed Asia’s demanding career had played a huge role in her broken engagement. She didn’t seem the type who would be willing to step off the career track anytime soon, but if she wanted her next long-term relationship to work, she would have to manage the job-relationship balance better. At least that’s what the author of this particular book suggested.

Maybe he could convince her to let him come up with a few work-life balancing strategies, preferably while they were also working on strategies to help him brand his consulting business. He’d even come up with a name for his new company: Forward Momentum: Helping women move forward after failed relationships.

“That’s a lot of words to fit on a business card. I think the name needs some work, Rox.” Roxie’s ears perked, then relaxed. “No suggestions?” Dex brushed her coat.

There was a knock on the door.

“Just a minute, Ray,” he called as he moved Roxie off his lap and sprinted for the front door.

When Ray had called to ask Dex if he could help him brainstorm ideas for a new client he’d landed for his independent financial-consulting business, Dex had jumped on it. Latent guilt motivated him to assist his former co-workers in any capacity they required. Dex had even offered to walk their pets for free, though he hadn’t had any takers. His co-workers had been remarkably forgiving of what he’d done, something Dex couldn’t comprehend, given he couldn’t forgive himself.

In the two years since his decision to ignore conventional financial wisdom and gamble on a tip that had turned out to be a bust, Dex had tried to put it behind him, but he could never shake off the feeling of responsibility. He’d ruined the lives of the people he had been closest to in the company. Their hardships were his fault.

Ray greeted him with beer and pizza and, soon after his arrival, they were immersed in figures and matrices. They were laboring over a stock option that the client wanted, but that he and Ray disagreed on.

Dex snapped his fingers. “Give me a sec,” he said. He went over to his computer desk and searched through the top drawer, coming up with the flash drive he kept there.

“I’ve been playing around with this.” He pulled up the matrix he’d created for assessing future implied volatility.

A half hour later, Ray set the laptop on the coffee table and crossed his arms behind his head. He looked over at Dex and smiled. “You know you’re a freaking genius, right?”

“Hell yes, I know,” Dex said.

“It’s a damn shame you’re wasting your time walking dogs. No offense, Roxie,” Ray said. “You need to get back into the finance game. You’ve got too much to offer to let these skills go to waste, man.”

Dex chose to ignore his friend’s statement as he went into the kitchen. Even if he wanted to return to the finance world, he had a feeling he’d freeze up the moment a big decision was put into his hands. He’d had his turn at that; he didn’t want another chance to mess up even more lives.

“You want another beer?” he called from the refrigerator.

“Nah, I need to head out soon.” Dex returned to the living room to find Ray thumbing through the psychology book he’d been reading. He held it up, “What the hell is this?”

“Nothing.” He snapped the book from his fingers and tossed it on Roxie’s recliner. “So, you think you can handle things from here?” he asked, gesturing to the printouts and charts scattered over the coffee table.

“Piece of cake,” Ray said, gathering his things. “I could have figured it out on my own, you know. I just figured you didn’t have anything better to do and could use the company.”

Ray looked up and they both burst out laughing.

Dex sent him home with the remaining slices of pizza and returned to the couch, pulling Roxie on his lap and turning on
Sports Center
. He picked up his cell phone and scrolled through his email, trying to ignore the adrenaline rush still coursing through him after the two hours he’d spent working on Ray’s project.

There were other ways to get an adrenaline rush. Ways that had nothing to do with compound annual growth rates and equity derivatives.

Dex clicked opened an email from Alena with the subject line:
Potential Client?
Inside were a smiley face and a link to a comment on her blog. The commenter wanted to know if The Rebound Guy had an age limit because he seemed like the perfect solution for her eighty-year-old grandmother, who had just broken up with her boyfriend in a nursing home.

Grinning, he texted her.
Ha Ha. Let me figure out my AARP discount.

He checked the time and, deciding it wasn’t too late, pulled up his sister’s phone number. Maybe sharing some good news with Niecy would take his mind off the ache that had settled in his chest after Ray had left, taking all of his lovely spreadsheets with him.

Denise answered on the first ring. “Hey, Pumpkin.”

“Hi, Niecy. How’s it going?”

“Your nephew didn’t throw a tantrum in school, so I’m counting today as a win.”

Dex smiled at the thought of Little Myron. He needed to get down to Atlanta to see his nephew soon. “I’ve got some good news,” he said. “I should have about eight thousand dollars for you by early next week. That should buy you some breathing room with the bank.”

“Dexter, where did you get that kind of money?” his sister screeched.

Denise was the only family member who knew he walked dogs for a living. His parents still believed he worked on Wall Street. But no one in his family knew about his other profession. Keeping all of his lies in order was becoming a full-time job of its own.

“I dipped into my savings,” he told her, which was at least a partial truth. After paying his monthly bills, he had withdrawn all but two thousand dollars from his checking and savings accounts to add to the five thousand dollars he would get from Asia tomorrow night. His rent was paid for the month, and his refrigerator was stocked enough to feed him for a few weeks. He’d survive.

“Dexter, I don’t know how I will ever pay you back.”

“As if I would let you,” he said.

Over the years, his sister had already paid him back in so many ways, Dex had lost count. He’d never worked a side job while he was in college because Niecy had kept his pockets stuffed with spending money. When he’d first moved here, she’d helped furnish his apartment and for an entire year, sent monthly care packages with everything from her special chocolate chip cookies to his favorite kettle-style potato chips that he couldn’t find in New York.

But none of that compared with the conversation he’d had with his sister almost two years ago that had changed his life.

He’d just broken up with Ebony during the same time Denise’s divorce from Myron had been finalized. Dexter had been devastated by his own failed relationship, but at the same time had been concerned about his sister’s mental wellbeing. After all, Denise and Myron had been married more than a decade longer than Dex had been with Ebony.

He’d pictured Niecy going to bed by seven p.m. and spending the entire night wallowing over the demise of her marriage. Instead, he’d learned that his sister had dived right back into the dating world, fully aware that her series of flings had served to bolster her battered ego and nothing more. His sister’s attitude toward moving forward had triggered a light bulb moment in Dex’s head. He’d realized it was a healthy—maybe even necessary—step in the healing process.

Niecy didn’t have to worry about paying him back. She’d unknowingly given him a new career.

“I’m going to wire the money into your checking account,” he told her. “It should be in there by Tuesday morning.”

“God, Dex. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.”

“Boy, am I happy the mailman brought you back to Mom that time I put a stamp on your forehead and tried to ship you to Alaska,” she said.

His head flew back with a crack of laughter. “Give my nephew a kiss from his Uncle Dex.”

“I will. And I’ll also send a batch of my chocolate chip raisin oatmeal cookies with Mom and Dad when they go up there in a few weeks.”

“What date are they arriving again?” Dex asked.

“On the 26th. They’re only in New York for one night before the cruise ship pulls out.”

“Yeah, they refused to stay at my place. Mom booked a room in the city. I was able to convinced her to let me take them out to dinner.”

“They will love that.” The words were followed by a yawn.

“Get to bed,” Dex said.

“I’m going,” she answered. “I’ll talk to you later. And, Dex, thanks again.”

His chest expanded with affection. “I told you I’d take care of it, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Denise said. “Love you, Pumpkin.”

“Love you, too.”

Dex ended the call, and turned his attention to the television. But he had a hard time concentrating on the sports anchor’s commentary. Instead, his mind chose to focus on tomorrow and his first performance as the new man in Asia’s life. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, as long as he kept his focus on the task at hand and not on the woman he would be forced to stand next to all night.

Chapter Seven

Asia sat at the glossy walnut bar in the upscale bistro that she had been meaning to check out for months. She accepted the glass of Chardonnay from the bartender, but had not taken more than a sip before hearing a low, sexy “Good evening” come from just over her shoulder.

She turned to find Dexter standing a foot away, attired in an exquisitely cut midnight-blue suit. She had not been to church in a while, but Asia knew it was a sin to look that good. He might be a dog walker by trade, but with his urbane apparel and polished demeanor, he blended in perfectly with this crowd.

“Hello,” Asia said. Did that breathy sound come out of her mouth? She cleared her throat and took another sip of her Chardonnay.

“Is this okay?” he asked, gesturing at his clothing.

She nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” he said. “First impressions are lasting impressions. Are you ready, or do you want to finish that?”

She waved a hand as she set the glass on the bar. “I’ll get another at the mixer. Although,” she said, pausing in her descent from the leather barstool, “I could probably use the fortification before facing Cortland again. Maybe I should finish this glass.”