There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (7 page)

I hesitate. “Sometimes.”

“Eggs?”

“Yeah, but I’ve already eaten breakfast.”

“What did you eat?”

I happen to glance at the driver’s brown eyes. He’s waiting to hear my answer.

“Um, leftovers from Yang Chung from Tuesday night.” I didn’t have time to whip up a fresh breakfast.

He looks disturbed. “That was five days ago!”

“It was still edible.”

He snorts. “We’ll see about that in an hour. Moe, get two coffees and four plain bagels with cream cheese.”

“Got it,” the driver says.
 

A short distance later, Moe parks in the red zone in front of the café. He hops out and shuffles inside.
 

“So I’m waiting,” Vincent says.

“For what?”

“To hear your pitch.”

“Oh.” I go on about the winter sports competition in Aspen and lay out the reasons why it would be good for the company and the IK App. Vincent nods.

The driver’s side door opens. I’m waiting for Vincent’s response when he takes the coffee and bagels from Moe.
 

He sets the cups in a holder and fishes a bagel out of the bag. “Eat this. It’ll help absorb bad bacteria from the five-day-old leftovers.”
 

“Oh.” I take the bagel. It’s warm and soft. I’m impressed.

“This place doesn’t keep the old shit from yesterday. They start with a new batch every morning.”

I bite into the bread. “This is good.”

“I’m glad you like it. And I like your idea. I’ll give it some more thought and get back to you.”

“You are?” I ask while chewing.

“Yes. You’re smart, Maggie. You always have been.”

I’m caught off guard by his remark. “Why do you say that?”
 

He squirms. I’ve put him on the spot. What does he know about how I’ve always been? I knew of him for a couple of months in high school and didn’t see him again until the day of the wedding.
 

“I say that you’re smart because you’ve proven it and in a short period of time,” he says.

“No, the part about me always being smart.”

“Oh, that.” He shrugs. “You were pretty smart in high school. I remember. We had Advanced Economics together.”

“You were in that class?”

He gazes out the window. “Yep.”

I feel as though he wants to say more. I’m trying to picture him in the classroom, but I draw a blank. Robert Tango’s alluring face is the only one that comes to mind. This is awkward. The cell phone in his suit jacket buzzes. I’m relieved when he answers.

He’s obviously speaking to someone of the opposite sex. His tone is soft, and he’s still glaring out the window.
 

“Had a good time too,” he says.

I want to shove my fingers in my ears so that I can’t hear him sweet-talk his girlfriend. Instead, I try to concentrate on typing the End of March Powder proposal. I can’t help but watch him through my peripheral vision. What’s happening is strange. There’s nothing going on between us, but something could be sparking. I think he paid more attention to me in the past than I’d realized.

“Sure,” he says lazily. He glances at me. “I guess so.” Pause. “Maybe.” Pause. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see.” He pauses for a long time.
 

When I look up from my computer, he’s watching me. He’s giving me the deep look, the one that Linda referred too. I’m so relieved when my cell phone rings. I hurry up and retrieve it out of my bag.
 

“Hello,” I say.

“Mags, I have a lot of suits I’m never going to wear. Do you want them? Since you’ve got a new job, I figure you might want to dress better for it.” It’s Monroe.

“Ha, ha, ha,” I mock. “Whatever.”

“See you later,” Vincent says. He ends his call and focuses on me. His penetrating gaze makes me clam up a little.
 

“I’ll bring them by tonight with a bottle of red,” Monroe says.

I squirm and face away from him. “Not tonight. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. How about tomorrow night?”

“Can’t. Dinner party at the Farmingtons’. Want to come?”

“Um, no.” The Farmingtons are her creepy friends in Brooklyn. They dress as though it’s Halloween every day, and their home smells like a hamster cage.
 

“What’s wrong with you? You sound strange. Are you alone?” she asks.

“No.” I put on my cryptic voice.

Monroe laughs in my ear. “Are you with a guy or girl?”

I glance at Vincent. “The first.” I think he knows I’m speaking in code.
 

“The first meaning a guy?”

“Yes.”

“Is he cute?”

“I guess.”

“Ah! So he’s hot?” she asks.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Your ‘I guess’ means he’s hot. If he were simply okay, then you would’ve said, ‘meh.’ If he were fairly good looking, then you would’ve said, ‘it depends.’ ‘I guess’ not only means he’s hot, but you want a piece of that.”

“You’re nuts.” I chuckle.
 

Vincent’s scowl intensifies.
 

“This conversation’s over. See you Monday night, and don’t bring old, spoiled wine from your mother’s cupboard.” She laughs as we hang up.

I smile briefly at Vincent and then resume pretending to work.
 

“You said the event is End of March Powder?” he asks out of the blue.

I look up. “Huh? Yes.”
 

“There are only two weeks left in this month. When is it?”

I narrow my eyes. “It’s the Friday after next. I know I’m cutting it close, but I thought we could at least get in and, once we’re inside, make shit happen.”

“Is that what you do? Make shit happen once you’re inside?”

My mouth falls open. “Um…” That sounded a lot like flirting.

“Never mind,” he says. “I’ll make some calls.”

“Well, I was going to contact Jack. I thought he might know someone there.”

“No, I don’t want to take that chance.”

“What chance?” He’s so damn confusing.

“Forget it. I’ll make the calls, and I’ll get back to you on Monday morning.” His tone is definite.

I smile. There’s no use in arguing with the boss. “All right then.” I go back to pretending to type something meaningful. Vincent’s proximity makes it hard to concentrate. Our feet are less than an inch apart.

Moe speeds on the expressway. The heavy traffic is going in the opposite direction. I’ve heard about feeling someone’s energy, and I can feel Vincent’s.
 

My breasts feel as if they’re swelling in response to whatever vibe he’s emitting. I try very hard not to fantasize about him ripping off my suit and pounding me on the floor between the seats. I always thought I was above those kinds of thoughts and antics.
 

I bite my lower lip and glance at him from under my eyelashes. He’s already observing me. I drop my eyes and type nothing that makes sense.

I feel a hand pet my cheek, and something that feels like a finger glides across my lower lip.
 

“Maggie, wake up.”

“Oh shit…” I didn’t know I’d fallen asleep.
 

“You’ve been asleep for a while. Do you feel okay?”

 
I would sit up, but he’s leaning into me and our faces are too close. His breath smells like mint and coffee.
 

“I feel fine,” I whisper.

He smiles a little. “I’m going to be worried about you all day now that I know you ate five-day-old Chinese food for breakfast.”

I snort. “You don’t have to be worried. I’m a New Yorker. I have a stomach of steel.”

“Do you?” he whispers.
 

I gulp. Are we going to kiss? But why would we kiss? He’s into Victoria’s Secret models.
 

“Yeah.” I scoot away so that I can sit up without our lips bumping. “So this is it?”
 

Vincent doesn’t say anything, so I take that as my cue to open the door and get out of the car. A wooden split-rail, ranch-style fence surrounds a green field of grass. A long paved walkway adjacent to the fence runs toward the back of the field. Three canopies rise in the distance. Two more canopies are on the other side of the fence at both ends of the grand-stand seating. The one closest to the entrance is the media center. Linda is waiting for me at the entrance. She’s talking to Keith, the guy from the meeting, who doesn’t look happy to see Vincent and me exit the limo together.
 

“You’re the one he was waiting around for?” Keith says under his breath when I reach them.

I ignore him. “Are you ready?” I ask Linda.

“As I’ll ever be,” she replies.

Keith stays close as we walk the event site, paying attention to where and how the A&Rt banners and signs are displayed. We also note what we could’ve done differently. Lena is running around like a chicken with her head cut off. I take the polo field, the stands, and the media area off her hands to alleviate her burden.
 

The four hours that we have to set up fly by. I’m finishing up the media area when the guests start to arrive. The TV crews, comprised of entertainment shows, are already rolling, interviewing celebrity guests. After Paula La Nora, one of those chicks who’s famous for no reason at all, is interviewed, I ask the crew if they would mind moving a little to the right so they can capture the A&Rt banner. After I flash a Hannah Rossi flirtatious smile, they do as I ask, figuring there’s no harm in it.
 

I happen to glance behind me and see Vincent standing beside the woman he left the building with yesterday. She’s in a blue dress that fits her like a glove. Her style is elegant yet sexy. They look like the perfect couple. Vincent is talking to her but looking at me, confirming that he’s one of those people who stare without realizing it. Now that I see them together, the pressure is off. Whatever’s going on in his head has nothing to do with him wanting me romantically.
 

I can stop fantasizing about him. But I can’t watch him standing there all cozy with her either. I decide to blow the scene. I take the path behind the bleachers.
 

The polo players are riding onto the field. It’s a sight that I simply can’t turn away from. They resemble men galloping into battle, except they’re the most stylish soldiers I’ve ever seen. Lots of them are dark-haired and handsome. I find myself taking a moment to appreciate how stunning they look sitting on top of those strong, graceful horses.

“Maggie,” Vincent calls from behind me.
 

I’m already familiar with the sound of his voice. When I face him, he’s close.
 

“Yes,” I say in my formal, not-going-to-cross-any-lines voice.

“I saw what you did back there. Good work.”

“Thank you, Vincent.”
 

He gives me that look again, as though he has something else to say.
 

“Is that it?” I ask.

“Why Robert?” he asks out of the blue.

He’s managed to confuse the hell out of me again. “Why Robert what?”

“Why did you like him?”

Ah, I see. My long-ago crush on Robert is the source of the awkward tension he’s created between us. “I don’t know. Who knows why you like who you like when you’re seventeen?”

“There must be some reason that you preferred him.”

I frown. “Over who? Over you?”
 

His lips part as if he’s stunned.
 

“I’m sorry, was that too direct?” I ask. Sometimes Cleo creeps into my brain and makes my mouth say whatever it’s thinking.

“No. Yes. Not over me but over anyone.”
 

I release a deep breath. If an answer will make him act normal around me, I’ll give him one. “He was cute and nice.” I shrug. “And, I don’t know, genuine, I guess.”

“And I wasn’t?”

I’m so damn confused. “What happened? Did he steal your girlfriend or something? It’s just very odd that you’re asking me this.”
 

He stares into my eyes with his lips parted like he’s trying to come up with the right words.

Lena steps up and takes him by the arm. “Vincent, you’re going to have to get on your mark. It’s almost time to present the donation before the match.” She looks from him to me and back to him. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No.” Vincent clears his throat. “I was complimenting Maggie on how she handled the media stand.”

“Oh,” Lena says. “You did find a winner in Maggie.” She smiles.

“Indeed,” he says.

“Maggie, Keith has been looking for you. They’re setting up the IK app demonstration booth, and he needs your input.”

“Why does he need her input? She’s not a technician!” Vincent barks before I can respond.
 

“He needs suggestions on placement and engagement,” Lena replies.

“I’m on it.” I step away before Vincent can object.

I don’t get him. He has a girlfriend, and she’s beautiful. Then he wants to know why I had a crush on Robert Tango and not him? I’m living in wacky world right now.
 

Once I reach Keith, I immediately identify the problem. “The issue isn’t where the demo booths are; it’s the displays themselves,” I tell him. “Do you see this crowd? They’re highbrow and fashionable. What do you think it’ll take to get one of those ladies out of their seats to stand here and play with a gadget with too many icons to press?”
 

“Hot male models,” Linda answers.

“And fashion,” I add.

“Well that’s not my job,” Keith grumbles.

“No, it isn’t,” I agree. “But it’s not too late to add those components.”

We rustle up the three cutest technicians and have them go around the tent, asking ladies for a few minutes to demonstrate the app to them. I let the techs know that if they’re struck down, they shouldn’t take it personally. Instead, they should smile, thank the ladies for attending the event, and move on to the next person. No compliments, no flirting, only smile and be pleasant. After an hour, word spreads, and we have lines of women waiting for their turn at the booth.

Vincent and his girlfriend distract me as they walk into the tent with their arms around each other’s waists. They sit at a table, and a woman walks onto the stage and stands behind the microphone. She asks everyone to be seated. Shortly after, three drop-dead gorgeous polo players walk onto the stage.