The Wrong Gentleman(25)

“Interesting. Which is why you and Harvey are here?”

I shrugged. “Absolutely.”

“You feel the need to overcompensate because you’re not secure in your masculinity?” Her face was blank of expression, and for a moment I thought she was serious until she broke out into a grin. “It’s a shame, but I’m happy to vouch for you.”

I chuckled. “So curry night in your family was homemade?” I asked. Did Skylar’s family have serious money?

“Kinda. Did you have takeout?” she asked, not answering my question.

“If we were lucky.” I wasn’t going to be thrown off course. I wanted to know what Skylar would share with me. “Do you have brothers and sisters?” I asked.

Skylar shook her head and glanced down at her plate. “No. My mom . . . It was a lot for my mom, having me.”

“A lot?”

Skylar shrugged. “Yeah, one kid was probably too much.”

I didn’t respond, wanting to hear more. What kid thought they were a lot for their parents? It was kind of heartbreaking hearing her talk like that.

“What about you? Any siblings?” she asked. I wasn’t getting anything from this girl.

“A brother.” I cleared my throat and took a sip of water.

“Is he in the army, too?”

I laughed, glancing at Harvey to see if he’d heard the question. Anyone who’d ever met my luxury-loving brother would be amused at the question. Unsurprisingly, Harvey hadn’t heard. He was lost in an alternate reality with August. Hayden would never have survived in the army. He was far too reliant on his home comforts. “Nope.”

“You don’t like to talk about yourself much, do you?”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” I replied. There was a lot about me that Skylar didn’t know, and I’d had plenty of opportunity to tell her. The fact that I was just killing time before I took up a new position. That I’d just sold my business for more money than I could have possibly imagined. That I knew more about Walt Williams than she did.

“Most men like to talk about themselves a lot.” She sighed and bit into her naan as if she hadn’t been fed for a week.

“Is that anything to do with the type of man you date?”

“I don’t date,” she replied. “Not really.”

“Because not enough men fulfil your criteria?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

The less she gave me, the more I wanted to know.

“You must have plenty of men who want to measure up,” I said. Skylar turned heads. Although we had our backs to the rest of the restaurant, I was pretty sure that if I turned around, I’d find most of the men in this place sneaking glances at her.

But she wasn’t the archetypal pretty—a rail-thin model, or the overly botoxed wanna-be actress—who hung around Cannes. She was old-school beautiful. Classic.

“You flirting with me?” she asked, grinning.

I was trying to get to know her, although it wasn’t my typical style with a woman. I shifted my chair so I could look at her better. “Would it matter if I was?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Doesn’t affect me. You’re definitely not my type.”

“Is that right?”

“You’re an excellent kisser,” she said as if she were remarking on my job performance.

“Erm, thank you.”

“It’s a good skill to have.” She pinched her eyebrows together as if she wanted me to know she was being entirely serious.

“Well, you’re excellent at a lot of things,” I said. “Naked things. Dressed things. Eating curry.”

“Careful, we might end up friends,” she replied. “Especially given our two best friends don’t notice us any time we come out.”

“I guess we just have to make the best of a bad situation and agree to be friends. Friends who fancy each other a little bit,” I said, wanting to see how she reacted to me admitting that I found her attractive.

“Fancy each other? Is that a British thing?” She strung out the word, elongating the “a” which sounded cute.

“Yeah—you know, find each other attractive. Like each other.”

“Okay,” she said. “I can admit that I fancy you a little bit. Not that it means that I want anything to happen between us.”

I laughed. “Good to know. And I fancy you a little bit, too.”

“What are you two giggling about?” August unwrapped an arm from Harvey and took a swig of his beer.

“We’re not giggling. We’re occupying ourselves rather than sit here and watch you two dry hump each other,” Skylar said.

I chuckled and scooped up another bite of curry.

August sighed. “Well, if you’re not going to bang, which, for the record, I think you totally should, you would have such beautiful babies together—”

“We’re not going to bang. Say another word about it, August, and I’m going to stab you through the eye with this fork,” Skylar said, waving a fork in the air, grinning.

“Okay, so as I was saying, if my best-case scenario isn’t going to happen, then maybe you can be each other’s wingman. Landon, you can find my friend a rich, hot, single, straight husband, right?”