Reluctantly Yours(8)

He doesn’t take the pen so now I’m awkwardly holding it out and it weighs more than any writing utensil should. It’s got to be encased in gold or lead or something.

“Pitch it to me,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest in a power pose that is both arrogant and sexy at the same time.

“What do you mean?” I say, my eyes narrowing.

“The reason I should donate my hard-earned money to Books 4 Kids.”

A choked laugh escapes me.

“You already pledged the money for the sponsorship.” I can feel myself getting worked up. If Barrett thinks he’s going to mess with me by withdrawing his sponsorship, he’s ridiculous. Books 4 Kids is JoAnna’s pet project. He’ll have to explain to her why he withdrew SCM’s donation. Although, if I come back without a check, I’ll have to explain that, too.

“I want to hear where my money is going. Why I’m donating a million dollars to your cause.”

“That’s a good question. Why are you only donating a million dollars? You’re a gajillionaire. You could afford to donate more.”

He smirks, but doesn’t say anything. Again, silence is his weapon of choice.

“It’s not my cause. It’s a charity organization that your mother created and sits on the board for. She asked you to pledge the money.”

His reaction is a nonreaction. I realize I’m not going anywhere with that check unless I comply with his request. A frivolous demand that only makes me realize how much of an ass he really is.

“Fine,” I say. I can barely refrain from slamming the pen down on the glass tabletop. “Books 4 Kids NYC is an organization that donates millions of books to children each year, and provides literacy programs that reach at-risk and lower income families throughout the city. Funding from grants and donations like yours will allow Books 4 Kids to introduce a new online platform that will reach more children and help promote early literacy.” I pause. While the stats are great, I sound like an infomercial. I take a breath in, and ignore Barrett’s silent disapproval. “Do you remember the power that learning to read gave you? The independence that reading a book on your own allowed? The places that reading could transport you on a rainy day when it was too wet to play outside? I would devour book after book. That’s the excitement that we want to give to kids. The ability to read and having resources that provide kids with books isn’t frivolous, it’s a lifeline.” I turn to find Barrett’s hazel eyes intently staring at me. “So, are you going to sign the check or not?”

He clears his throat, his gaze lingering another moment before he slowly reaches for the pen. Feeling like a badass now that I’ve put him in his place, sort of, I decide to press my luck.

“We need a few more celebrity readers for the story time slots.”

His eyes flick up to mine, his hand gripping the pen holding steady over the signature line.

“And you’re telling me this because?” he asks.

“I’m asking if you’ll fill one of those slots. It’s for a great cause, which I just explained. Not to mention it would be supportive of your mother and the signage will have SCM written all over it. It would be good publicity and it’s not that hard.”

“No.” He drops his gaze and finishes signing the check.

“It’s only fifteen minutes,” I press. “You can pick the book. I’m sure your deep baritone would lend itself nicely to There’s a Monster Under My Bed or Creepy Underwear.” Or hot phone sex but that wouldn’t be appropriate for a children’s story time.

“I’m busy. Have Bea help you pick someone from the executive team. That should suffice.”

“I think it would mean more if you were there yourself.” I don’t want Barrett there anymore than he wants to be there, but the idea of Barrett reading a book to children is so out of his norm that I can’t help but want to see it.

Barrett hands me the check, his signature lining the bottom in black ink.

“Find someone else,” he says with finality before he turns toward his computer. Apparently, I’ve been dismissed.

I’m halfway to the door when I remember the note in my pocket. The lunch reservation that JoAnna had me make for Barrett and his date. I’d intended to pass it along to Bea, but with my anxiety about running into Barrett, I’d forgotten. I pull it out and march back toward Barrett’s desk. With a thud, I smack the note down onto the glass then leave.





CHAPTER 3





Barrett





The familiar sounds of tennis shoes squeaking against the waxed wood floor, and the smack of the rubber ball against the wall take me back to the countless number of times I would come to the racquet club with my dad. Carl, a friend and in-house counsel at St. Clair Media, banks a shot off the right wall and I scramble to make contact before the ball flies past me.

“Jesus, St. Clair, where the fuck is your head at today?” Carl taunts. “That ball couldn’t have been an easier hit if I put it in a box and shipped it directly to you.”

Ignoring his prodding, I make my way over to the side of the court with my water and towel. I let my racquet clatter against the wood floor before sliding the protective eyeglasses to the top of my head to towel the sweat off my brow.

It’s Friday morning. It’s been nearly a week since Fred invited me to dinner with our girlfriends and I am no closer to having one today than I was last week. That doesn’t mean I haven’t tried. Leaning into my mother’s desire to play matchmaker, I let her arrange a lunch with Tessa Green. Tessa, an accomplished lawyer and activist, and I had some things in common, mostly our summers spent in the Hamptons and our busy work schedules, yet I spent the majority of our one-hour lunch date thinking about another woman. The one who had delivered the news of the date via post-it note on my desk.