I make a sweeping motion with my hands. “By all means, have him. Please.”
After all, there’s no way I’d ever be interested in going out with Asher Hawthorne.
~
Fine. Maybe I’d be a little interested.
I make the concession as I slowly traverse one of the Classic Literature aisles in the library, my fingertips brushing against the spines of the books.
I’m not a voracious reader, but I did own a copy of Pride and Prejudice once. For a time, I wished I had my own Mr. Darcy to give me a comfortable life.
Now, I’m determined to give that to myself. That’s why I studied economics and finance diligently even though what I wanted was to be a math teacher for the fifth or sixth grade, the best years of my life. That’s why I’m here at Wharton trying to give myself the best chance of success in the corporate world. Still, sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if I didn’t have to work, if I could follow my dream, if I didn’t have to worry about money because I had a wealthy, supportive husband who could give me just as much as I needed.
A man like Asher Hawthorne.
Whoa. Just a while ago, I was against dating him. Now, I’m thinking of marrying him? No way.
Asher Hawthorne may be wealthy, but he’s still a pompous ass. And a playboy. And…
“Looking for something?” A voice interrupts my thoughts.
I turn my head and see Asher standing right in front of me.
Shit.
I hug my laptop to my chest as I step back. My heart pounds against the padded cotton.
How many times does he plan on nearly giving me a heart attack before this day is over?
“Violet, right?” he asks.
Why did Casey have to give him my name?
“Yes,” I reply, not feeling like I have any other choice. “If you’re looking for Casey, she’s—”
“I’m not looking for Casey.”
The certainty in his voice matched by the intensity of his gaze—why is he looking at me like I’m some kind of prey?—sends a shiver down my spine. A lump forms in my throat.
I swallow. “Well, I’m not looking for any book, either, so I’m going.”
I turn around and start to walk away.
Why did I have to bump into Asher of all people?
“Wait.”
I let out a deep breath as I stop in my tracks. Now what?
“Lloyd Finley is throwing a party at his house tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”
My eyebrows crease. He’s asking me out? Didn’t he hear all the things I said about him? Is he just going to ignore all that? Is this some kind of mockery or masochism?
“No, thanks,” I give him my straight answer and keep walking.
“Why not?”
Okay. So the rumors are right. This man doesn’t take no for an answer.
I draw a deep breath and turn around. “Aren’t you a little too old for parties?”
“Aren’t you a little too young to be living your life so seriously?” he retorts.
I narrow my eyes at him. “How I live my life is none of your business.”
“But my life is yours? What was that you said? That my parents didn’t love me?”
So he did hear me at the café. I suddenly feel like I’m back there. My cheeks burn. Still, I hold my chin high and look him in the eye.
“Has anyone ever told you that it’s bad to eavesdrop?”
“I overheard. I didn’t eavesdrop. There’s a difference.”
He’s being smart with me now? “You didn’t overhear. You walked over to our table.”
“I walked to the condiment bar. Your table happened to be right next to it.”
Come to think of it, Asher’s right. The condiment bar was right behind my chair. Still, that doesn’t mean it was right for him to listen in to my conversation with Casey.
“So you just decided to drop by and flirt? Is that one of your MOs? Flirting with women while putting some extra sugar in your coffee?”
He scratches his chin. “Wow. You really do hate me, don’t you?”
I wrap my hand around my throat and give him a sad look. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your nonexistent feelings?”
“Why? What did I ever do to you?”
“Make me think that there really are no decent men left in this world.”
“Then let me change your mind,” he offers. “Spend some time with me. Get to know the real me.”
My eyebrows arch. “The real you?”
“Yes. The me who has a heart.”
I snort.
“And if you still think I’m a jerk, then at least you can tell your friends based on firsthand experience instead of relying on just gossip.”
Very clever. I almost want to give in. But I don’t.
“Nice try, but no. That’s spelled N-O. Go ahead and add that to your vocabulary.”
I thought that would make Asher frown, but he just grins.
“How about F-U-N? Have you considered adding that to your vocabulary?”
I shake my head. “Wow. I thought you were only good at math, but I guess you can spell, too.”
“And I also happen to know how to use a water rower. I noticed you were eyeing the one at the gym. I can teach you how to use it.”
My eyes grow wide. Asher saw me at the gym? When?
It sounds creepy. Definitely. At the same time, I can’t help but feel a spark of excitement in my chest.
Asher has noticed me before. And he remembers me. As smart as he is, surely he can’t remember every woman he sees on campus. But he remembers me.
Then the voice of reason speaks up inside my head. So what? It doesn’t mean anything.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not looking for a personal trainer.”
Of course he’d know how to use a water rower. He probably has his own gym. But I’d rather row a real boat by myself across a lake shrouded in fog than have him standing next to me when I’m just in a tank top, leggings and a layer of sweat.
“Okay, but I’m still looking for someone to go to a party with.”
He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.
“So go look. Elsewhere.”
I turn away. I haven’t taken a step yet when Asher speaks again.
“You know who Lloyd Finley is, right? His family owns chunks of quite a few banks and insurance companies.”
“No wonder you’re friends. Your yachts must be anchored at the same marina.”
“The CEOs of those banks and insurance companies will be at that party. Along with a few others. I think it would be a good chance for you to learn some things about the world you plan on being a part of, a chance to weigh employment prospects, maybe throw your name out there.”
A chance to make all-important connections, which is essentially what business is about. Tempting.
I turn to face him again. “So you’re saying you’re doing me a favor?”
“I’m saying you’d be doing yourself a favor,” Asher answers. “I just want my date.”
How generous.
“Frankly, I think I’m the one getting a better bargain,” he adds.
Now he’s trying to flatter me. Desperate, but cute.
I step forward. “Why me?”
“Because I like how your blue eyes clash with your black hair,” Asher confesses. “It reminds me of the ocean at night. Besides, it’s a combination I’ve never seen before.”