For some reason I expected her to suggest I was insane or to hem and haw and debate it endlessly. Not this woman. She gave me a grin, took the hand I offered her, and climbed into the carriage.
Now this was much more interesting than a stuffy corporate party.
Chapter Two
“You’re a problem solver,” she said, as she sat down on the carriage bench. “Thinking outside the box. I love it.”
I paid the driver and told him, “I’ll give you a nice tip if you get us out of here in the next thirty seconds.” Then I vaulted myself up onto the seat beside her. “For every problem, there is a solution,” I told her.
“I don’t really think that’s true at all,” she said. “I still haven’t found a good strapless bra.” The carriage started rolling forward. “But I appreciate the quick thinking.”
And now my thoughts were on her breasts again. “You’re welcome,” I said shortly. I glanced behind me but I didn’t see any small-prick loser charging down the street after us. I felt confident I’d spared her that.
“So you’re my knight in shining armor?” She looked me up and down. “Or my knight in shining Armani?”
That label both amused me and made me uncomfortable. My daughters would say I was mostly grumpy, frequently no fun, and really embarrassing. “No woman should have to endure threats because some dude with a fragile ego can’t handle being broken up with. And I hate parties. I was only going because I had to, so you saved my ass too.”
“You hate parties?” She gaped at me like I’d suggested letting the air out of all the balloons at the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. “Who hates parties?”
“Me.” The ass-kissing that came my way as head coach of a pro football team, the juggling a tiny plate in my big hands, the fucking up and forgetting someone’s name. Not my thing.
“Do you hate puppies too? And rainbows? And ice cream sundaes? Walks on the beach and dinners with Grandma?”
I eyed her, amused, and more intrigued than I had any right to be given she was fresh off a breakup. “No. Just parties.”
She feigned a sigh of relief, pulling my jacket tighter across her chest as the carriage clip clopped down Fifth Avenue. “Phew. Not totally evil. What other things do you not hate?”
“I don’t hate carriage rides with beautiful women.” At least not tonight. The blonde was entertaining.
She clapped her hands in applause. “Good one. Well done. Hey, what’s your name, besides Hater?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Hater? I don’t think I deserve that. But my name is Brandon. And you are?”
“Dakota.” She nudged me with her knee. “I love parties and sushi and dancing.”
“Nice to meet you, Dakota. I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.” I didn’t like either one, at all really, but the song references seemed like a perfect fit, more so than anything truthful I could tell her. I didn’t think she’d enjoy hearing that working out, calling offensive plays, and braiding my daughter’s hair were some of my favorite things.
I really liked having sex too, but again, that had been shoved way down on the priority list, unfortunately. A new job, a new city, my girls. Those took precedent. If I could have handpicked a woman to run into me on the elevator from a lineup of women, I guarantee I would have chosen Dakota. She was tall, gorgeous, fit, with those full lips that were giving me all kinds of dirty thoughts.
The feeling didn’t seem to be mutual. She tilted her head and said, “I don’t like getting caught in the rain.”
I realized she had not gotten the song reference. At all. Which made me old. Too old for her. It was almost a relief. My thoughts were running in directions they had no business going. Time to find her a cab and return to my originally scheduled boring night. Which sounded like hell.
Yep. I was a hater.
“Too many puddles in New York. Cars splash you,” I told Brandon, my incredibly good-looking rescuer. “Plus I have very fine hair, so it just flattens.” I gestured to my head, to indicate my straight hair.
“I get that. But do you like making love at midnight on the dunes of the cape? Are you into health food or champagne?”
“What?” I eyed him. I felt like there was a joke I was missing, but that happens to me a lot. I get it like five minutes later when the moment has passed for everyone else. “I mean, who wouldn’t like some sexiness at midnight? Unless you have to get up early.”
Brandon smiled. The corner of his mouth just slid up, like he was trying not to laugh. Definitely I was missing something. Whatever. I had learned a long time ago to not worry about it when a joke went over my head.
“Having to get up early wouldn’t stop me,” he said.
Oh, really? I couldn’t decide if he was flirting with me or making fun of me. I decided it was both, which was fine with me. A little harmless flirtation was a mood enhancer. I shivered and held his jacket closed, trying to get warm. “It’s freezing out here.” I didn’t really mind though. I had escaped Dante and that whole surprise wedding bullshit and there is nothing prettier than Manhattan at Christmas.
We were riding down Fifth Avenue and there were holiday lights up everywhere, twinkling with the backdrop of the trees on one side, high rises on the other. The air was crisp but the vibe was magical. “I can’t believe I’m riding in a carriage. It’s beautiful. I’ve never done this before.”
“Me either.” He reached his arm behind my back. “Here, lean against me for warmth until this guy pulls over. Then we can go grab a coffee.”
I didn’t hesitate to obey his suggestion. He was a solid wall of muscle. He had serious body heat potential. His grip as he pulled me into his dress shirt was firm but not aggressive. He smelled like expensive cologne and confidence.
He was probably a decade older than me if I had to guess and he had big feet. I was staring down at his shoes, wondering if that meant what I thought it did. Not that I should even be thinking about his cock, in any way, but I was curious. I couldn’t help it. I’m a curious person. Leap, then look. That’s me.
Except when it comes to getting married, apparently.
Brandon gave off a little bit of a grumpy vibe. The ultimate gentleman, but just a tad grumpy. Hated parties. Pfft. Seriously, that was not normal.
But he was really hot, and that lack of a smile only made him hotter. He kind of smoldered, and that was really sexy. He had caramel colored hair, cut short, and deep, dark brown eyes.
“I’d love some coffee,” I said, because why wouldn’t I want warm bean juice and the company of this tasty man for another twenty minutes? It was taking the sting off of Dante’s nasty texts. “Look at how beautiful the city looks from this perspective. It’s weird. Sometimes we forget to look around us.”
“Yeah. We do.” Brandon wasn’t looking at holiday lights. He was looking at me.
Lady bits alert. It would be a lie to say I was cold everywhere. Certain parts of me were suddenly very, very warm. His gaze was admiring, intense. I had his full attention and that was pretty damn hot. It had been a long time since I’d seen a man look at me like that.