Mid Life Love (Mid Life Love #1)

Ugh, god...I started signing the blanks faster, purposely avoiding her flirty glances each time she cleared her throat.

Ever since she’d gotten upset with me after that late night meeting, I’d put some serious distance between us. I still spoke with her after meetings, still laughed at her witty jokes, but I never allowed myself to be alone with her for too long.

“You’re really not going to tell me your new girlfriend’s name?” She placed her hand over the documents.

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’m dating someone new...”

“That’s great.” I smiled. “I’m happy to hear that.” Ecstatic to hear that...

“His name is Paul Jordan and he owns a chain of mid-scale hotels. See? I told you his name now you can tell me hers.”

“What does the name of the woman I’m dating have to do with our acquisition of NoraCorps tomorrow? I thought signing these documents was the reason why you came up here.”

She sighed. “It was. Don’t forget that they’re going to be here in the morning. They want to get official copies of the bank’s approval forms. I think this may be the second best investment we’ve ever made.”

“Me too.” I stood up. “I’ll get here early tomorrow. I’ll have the chef make something for—”

“Is it the redhead who works in Marketing?” She grabbed my hand. “The director who did all that work for the sPhone blue?”

I raised my eyebrow.

“I saw you two holding hands in the garage late last night...She’s really pretty—stunning even...I just...” She shook her head. “All these years that I’ve been here, I’ve tried getting close to you, and you’ve always pushed me away...Why? Why am I not good enough for you?”

I couldn’t believe she was trying to pull this emotional bullshit with me. I remained stoic; I needed to choose my next words very carefully.

“I’m not like Audrey...” She reached up and ran her hands across my chest, making my skin crawl. “I’m not trying to use you or push you over the edge to get your money. I’m your friend and you can’t deny that we have undeniable chemistry...I’ve looked out for you ever since my father invested in your company. I even sat with Hayley through some of her skin grafting surgeries when you couldn’t be there...I’m not a dimwitted bimbo, a gold-digger, or a divorcée with kids whose trying to live out her cougar dreams and get you to marry her so she can run off with all your money after she divorces you. I’m not like —”

“Excuse me?”

She bit her lip and traced her fingertips along my mouth. “I’m just saying that I wouldn’t take advantage of you like some of the women you’ve been interested in. And even though I’m dating someone else now, whenever you come to your senses, I’ll—”

“Okay.” I grabbed her hand and moved it away. “Since you clearly don’t understand what the word ‘no’ means, let me help you with the exact definition: I am not interested in you. I will never be interested in you. I don’t give a damn what you think about whoever you assume I’m dating, but if she happens to be a divorcée with kids, she’s ten times better than you would ever be for me. I’m aware that me canceling the employee fraternization policy left you feeling confused about your imaginary status of “us,” but sexual harassment goes both ways and that policy is still in effect. Are we clear?”

I took her stunned silence and dropped jaw to be a yes.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” I turned away from her and walked out.

I headed to my office and took a deep breath. I was going to have to limit my interactions with Vanessa to business only until she got a grip on herself—maybe even avoid her completely.

I walked inside and pulled Claire to her feet. “I’m so sorry about that. What was I saying before?”

“Dinner...”

“Right. There’s a new restaurant down at Fisherman’s Wharf and I’d love to—”

“Rain check? I promised the girls I would make pasta tonight. Maybe we can—”

“I like pasta.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll bring the leftovers to work tomorrow. Do you want me to pack parmesan cheese with—”

“I can’t come over and have dinner with you and your family?”

“Um...”

“Um?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What type of answer is that?”

“You want to meet my daughters?”

“Do they know I exist?”

She nodded.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Nothing...” She looked surprised. “Dinner is at seven.”

I pulled up to her house ten minutes early. I’d bought three custom bouquets of spring roses—one for Claire, one for Ashley and Caroline, and a large bottle of sparkling apple cider to share over dinner.

I walked up the steps and pressed the doorbell, smiling at the memory of the first time I’d done that in January.

Whitney Gracia Williams's books