One More Time(58)

I gestured for the waiter to bring two more shots. Then I leaned back against the plush leather upholstery of the bench seat and rubbed my hand across my forehead, pretending to weigh Donovan's offer in my mind.

To be honest, I’d been restless recently. I enjoyed the benefits of my life—my rental apartment in Midtown, my sex life, the view from my office. But my twenty-ninth birthday was looming and that was so close to thirty. A milestone birthday, and what did I have to show for it?

Okay. I was one of five shareholders of Reach,Inc., one of the most successful ad agencies in the world, but everyone knew that was Donovan's brainchild.

What did I have that was purely my own?

A month ago, I'd been so caught up in the desire for clarity that, on a whim, I'd asked a girl to move to New York from LA. It wasn’t the first impulsive move I’d ever made, especially not for a girl—a girl I'd been naked with all weekend, no less—but it had been the craziest.

Almost as crazy of an idea as getting married to a stranger in order to improve our business status.

Sabrina, the naked woman, had been a peer that Donovan and I had gone to Harvard with. I’d been fortunate enough to spend a magical reunion weekend with her. There was something about her—a combination of her sexy laugh, serious demeanor, and intelligent brain that struck a chord deep inside me. Our conversation had made me feel warm and interesting and I wanted to capture that. Wanted to make it last.

So much so that right there on the spot, I demanded she take the position of Director of Marketing Strategy. Who cared that there was somebody else who held the position already?

She’d turned me down, wisely, but after she’d left, when the hormones calmed down, I looked into her resume anyway. Turned out she actually deserved the position, and I'd been halfheartedly working on making the transition happen legitimately ever since.

I’d spent good time thinking about making a real go at a relationship with her, too, if I got her to take the job.

I'd even told Donovan about my plans. Had he forgotten?

"But I don't want to get married,” I reminded him now. “I want to bring Sabrina Lund to New York City and find out whether or not we fit together."

“Sabrina Lind,” he corrected, his tone peppered with annoyance.

“Isn’t that what I said?” I was starting to feel the alcohol.

"Still bring her here," Nate suggested, always the reasonable one. "She can take the job, and settle in. By the time she gets the hang of things around here, you'll be through your annulment and then you're free to date her."

"That could work, I suppose." Still wasn’t considering it.

"If she’s interested, that is," Donovan scowled.

"Why would she not be interested?" I asked.

"She’ll be interested," Nate assured me. "But it is hard to move into a new city and get into a new relationship all at once. Better to take it in steps. And meanwhile, you can do this thing for the company."

I could hear the subtext in his words. Subtext that said he thought maybe I owed the company a little more doing.

Possibly I was reading too much into it.

I slammed back my next shot and considered what other reason there might be for Nate Sinclair to take Donovan’s side. He was usually Switzerland.

"You’re just saying all that because you don’t want to be the one to get married, aren’t you?" I eyed Nate accusingly.

He averted his eyes. "I'm old enough to be her father. It's not really appropriate."

I turned my stare to Donovan. There wasn’t a band on his finger.

“It wouldn’t work,” he said flatly, guessing my thoughts. “No one would ever believe I’d get married.”

“I can’t dispute that.” It was hard for me to believe the guy had friends. And I was his best friend.

"You are the ideal candidate," Donovan insisted.

“Damn right I’m the ideal candidate.” I grinned, giving him my full dimpled smile, because hands-down, I was the best looking of all of us. My panty collection proved it. Cade could give me a run for my money with his constant brooding—women seemed to go for that—but he was in Japan. And Dylan Locke’s charming British accent only worked on girls outside the UK, and he was never leaving the London office.

So, I wasn’t just the ideal candidate—I was the only candidate.

But I wasn’t doing it. It was crazy. Stupid crazy.

I ran my hand over my face, wondering how much longer I should allow Donovan to think I could be convinced. There was a fine line between hearing him out and becoming roped in.

"Is this Elizabeth person hot?" I asked, my lips numb from the shots.

"Why?" Donovan asked suspiciously.

"If I'm stuck with her I might as well…you know."

"You just said that you couldn’t marry her because you’ve found the love of your life with Sabrina…" I could practically see steam coming from Donovan's ears.

"I didn't say Sabrina was the love of my life. I said she might be the love of my life. It’s too early to tell."

"Either way," Donovan said, snarling, "it's probably a good idea if you don't sleep with your fiancée.”

I exchanged glances with Nate.