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Am I impressed Marcus is getting married? Definitely, but mainly because he’s been more of a player than even I am. Plus he’s always been picky about the women he’s dated. This Callie must be something special.
Or something who has been pretty crafty about wanting to get hold of Marcus’s bank book.
We have that in common as well. I’ve lost track of how many women want to spend time with me for what’s in my pocket rather than my pants.
“So Callie says.” Marcus grins. “Who’s caught your attention anyway?” He cranes in his chair to see who I’ve been staring at for the last forty-three minutes.
I know how long it’s been because I checked my watch when she came in so I could remember the exact time she walked into my life.
At least walked into the restaurant where I was sitting.
“Okay, she’s…”
There’s something about Marcus’s pause. “Do you know her?”
“I know of her. And everyone knows him. Noam Tate.”
“Really.” I let my gaze wander to the man sitting across from the redhead. No wonder he looks familiar. I turn back to her. I saw her face when she walked in but the way she’s sitting leaves me only her profile to admire.
I’m enamoured with the slope of her nose, and the curve of her chin. The way her upper lip is slightly fuller than her bottom one, and how she arrived with a slick of red lipstick that is now marking her wineglass.
I can’t help but imagine what it would have been like to have kissed it off.
Should I call her my future wife? The new love of my life? The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?
Or just the redhead seated at the next table in the middle of the room. Because if she’s with Noam Tate… “Is that his daughter? Granddaughter?”
“Nope.” Marcus shakes his head. “Definitely not.”
“You sound like you know her.”
“Of her, I said. I’ve never had the pleasure, even though if what Coulter tells me can believed, she’s the newest investor in the club.”
“Fantasies Club?” Marcus has spent the past year developing a nightclub for those who enjoy the swinger lifestyle. That’s never been my thing, but I’m intrigued enough to want to check it out.
“The very same.”
“So she comes from money.” I shrug.
“She’s the money. You ever use E? The “dating” site?” He uses his fingers as quotations and the uneasy expression matches my own.
“The one for married guys to hook up with women who aren’t their wives? Uh, no thanks. That’s not my thing.”
“It’s not just for married guys, it just got the rep for that. But that’s her.” He jerks his head toward the table. “She did that. Cady Quinn.”
“Huh.” I watch her with new appreciation. E is known worldwide for linking men with high-class escorts and recently got in the middle of a huge divorce case. I always thought a cabal of slimy men ran the thing, not a woman who looks like—
Cady gets to her feet, smiling at the older man. She waits until he’s standing—a little shaky—and then tucks her arm into his.
She turns and looks over. Marcus lifts his hand and her face tightens for a split second before she leans in to say something to Tate. “She’s coming over,” I hiss.
“And you’re freaking out because…?”
“I’m not freaking.” But I am. My heart is indeed racing as I watch Cady and Noam Tate take the few steps toward us. I think I’m smiling, but it might look creepy.
I hope it’s not creepy.
They pause, and Marcus gets to his feet. “Cady Quinn. What a nice surprise,” he booms in that insincere way he has. “And Mr. Tate. It’s an honour. I’m Marcus Walker-White.”
