Page 7 of Promise Me Never

Glad you’re feeling better. Can we make it 7:00? Mtg someone for a drink beforehand.

She’d made that part up. Rule number three: Make him think he has competition. Let him wonder who she was meeting. And it served him right for ignoring her earlier.

Immediately three dots danced on her screen.

Sure. Can’t wait.

“What are you smiling about?”

She hadn’t even noticed Marion walking toward her.

“Was I?”

“Uh, yeah. You looked very happy.”

“Just glad to be here. It’s so inspiring. Really makes me want to finish my book.”

“Are you headed to another session?”

“I was trying to decide which,” she bluffed. “Any suggestions?”

Marion glanced at the conference schedule in her hand. “Actually, I think it’s an interview now. With David Morrell. You don’t want to miss that. Shall we go together?”

Savannah nodded. “By the way, I’m meeting Bennett at seven for dinner. Is there anything you want me to bring up?”

Marion shook her head. “We covered everything last night. I’m sure he’ll be eager to leave and get back home.”

But Savannah was going to do her best to keep him here as long as possible.

| Six |

Bennett

He should get in his car and drive back home. Nothing good could come of his pursuing anything with Savannah. First, he still wasn’t over Poppy. Second, he’d sworn off dating. And even though she reminded him of Poppy, she wasn’t Poppy. But it was only her coloring that had made him think of his first wife. Poppy had been a firecracker. Savannah was different, more subdued. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was so drawn to her. He sensed intelligence in her eyes and he was still impressed with how she’d taken Lucy Love down a peg. He had noticed her standing by the door after his talk this morning. Could tell that she was waiting for him. He’d purposely ignored her. He had intended on texting to tell her that he couldn’t see her that evening. But it was as if his fingers had a mind of their own and instead had sent a time to meet. He’d been worried when she didn’t answer right away that he’d blown things by ignoring her that morning, but then she’d finally responded.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He was playing with fire. This wasn’t some random woman. She worked for his agent. Things could get messy. What if she wanted more than he was able to give? But there was undeniable chemistry between them. And for the first time since Poppy died, he felt alive. He deserved to be happy, didn’t he? He’d been moping for too long. What harm could one dinner do?

| Seven |

Before—Poppy

I could spot the f-boys a mile away. And Bennett wasn’t one of them. The club where I waitress doesn’t typically attract his type. We appeal more to the tech bros and hedge fund assholes, but they tip well, and living in New York isn’t cheap, so I count myself lucky to have the job. I know it’s not my superb waitressing skills that got me hired, but rather my long legs and fiery mane. The manager took one look at me and asked, “When can you start?” Anyway, the job is temporary. Something to augment my meager salary at the art gallery while I pay my dues before finally making a name for myself in the art world. And where else to do that but New York City? My mother always said New York was uncivilized. But I didn’t want civilized. I wanted interesting. Only in New York would I find appreciation for my mixed-media collages. I loved to scour flea markets and thrift stores for old photographs, long-forgotten letters, discarded newspapers. They told a story. It wasn’t the road my parents had planned for me. But once I finished college, I didn’t have to worry about what they wanted. And now I’m here.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Bennett. He was one of those men whose gaze could hold you hostage. He was casually dressed, standing in the corner, talking to a woman who looked to be about ten years his senior. I could tell they weren’t romantically involved. Maybe his boss, or a client, I thought. When I walked over to get their order, his eyes widened when he saw me. I was used to having that effect on men, but the look in his eyes was different. It was tender, searching. Not the lustful gaze I always received from the recently graduated frat boys I was used to serving.

He ordered a Jameson on the rocks, she a gin martini. The little I overheard of their conversation led me to believe he was a writer. I later found out that his agent had sold another of his books, and they were out for a celebratory drink. But that night, all I knew was that he was an artist, like me, and I thought maybe fate had brought him into my bar for a reason. They stayed for one more round, and I did something I’d never done before. When his companion left to go to the ladies’ room, I handed him a note with my phone number. I had no idea that action would completely alter the course of my life.

| Eight |

Savannah

They had flirted all through dinner. As they walked back toward the hotel, Bennett reached out and took her hand in his. Things were moving even faster than she’d dared to hope. She was exhilarated and didn’t want the evening to end. As they approached the hotel, he dropped her hand and held the door open for her. The hotel bar was buzzing with conversation.

“Do you want to have a drink?” she asked Bennett.

“Yes. But not there. We won’t have any privacy. Do you want to come up to my suite?”

According to the dating book, she should demur. But this might be the only chance she had. So while she knew that if she said yes, more than a drink was on the menu, she decided to take the plunge. She wanted to feel his lips on her, his hands on her body. She nodded.