Page 22 of The One You Want

“The suit is on the move,” Libby confirmed. “Heading yourway.”

“Damnit!”

“Man, that is one starched out dress shirt,” Coramuttered.

“And his hair,” Riley added. “Have you ever seen a part so straight in yourlife?”

“Just kill me now,” I muttered, taking a long swig of my wine. God knew I was going to need thestrength.

“Jennifer,” a smooth, polished voice said, and I looked up to see Bradford towering over the table. “What a surprise, seeing youhere.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Iris muttered and I kicked her under thetable.

“Bradford,” I said, hating the way my voice came out all high and squeaky. “Hi. Um. Hello. How’s itgoing?”

He nodded, leaning back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Can’t complain.” He winked. Why in the hell was this guy always winking? It definitely added to the smarm factor. “I have to say, my night just got a whole lot morepleasant.”

“Oh, my God,” I heard Cora mutter, voice a mixture of amusement and disgust. I knew thefeeling.

“These are my friends,” I said quickly, desperate to get this latest interaction over with. “Guys, this is Bradford Rutherford. He works for mygrandfather.”

Libby and Grant both choked on their drinks and Iris started coughing so hard she had to duck her head under the table—probably to keep him from seeing how hard she was laughing at the reveal of his fullname.

Bradford nodded vaguely at the others, his eyes still locked on me. “I’d love to buy you a drink, Jennifer. Maybe your friends wouldn’t mind if I borrowed you for a few minutes?” He shot that slick, toothpaste ad smile at them. “Actually, I believe there’s a restaurant across the square there.” He looked around the rowdy, noisy bar, a brief flash of distaste breaking through his polished facade. “Might be a more pleasant place to talk. More ourscene.”

He put just enough emphasis on the wordsour sceneto indicate to everyone at the table that he considered this bar to be far below the standards he expected me to share with him. What an asshole. I cast a glance at Cora, mortified that he was bad mouthing her place right in front of her, but she was merely staring up at him with that same mix of horror and amusement on her face, like she couldn’t quite believe such a pompous, unwrinkled person couldexist.

“Actually,” Libby cut in, her voice smooth as she gave him her own toothy, fawning grin. “The girls and I could probably spare Jenny for a few minutes.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper, smirking, like they were about to share a secret. “But I think herboyfriendmight not be sounderstanding.”

There was a long beat of silence. I stared at Libby, my brain feeling sluggish. What in the hell was she talking about? My confusion was mirrored on Bradford’sface.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, features suddenly verytight.

“Yes, didn’t you know?” Libby asked, positively beaming now. She pointed to the end of the table where I sat next to myfriend.

“Jenny and Grant are dating. Aren’t they just the cutestthing?”