Virtuous(13)

“You have to know that much of what’s reported about me is utter bullshit.”

“Much but not all.”

“No,” I concede, “not all of it.”

“Is the part about how you were so burned by your first marriage that you’d never marry again true?”

The question registers a direct hit to the gut, and I fight the need to squirm under her sharp gaze. “That part might be true.”

“So then there really is no point at all to us spending more time together, because if you’re like most men, and I suspect you are, the dating ritual is undertaken with one goal in mind—to get your flavor of the week into bed. Since I have not and will not sleep with anyone I’m not married to, and you have no intention of ever marrying again, I’d say we’re at an impasse.”

“So wait, you haven’t… That’s to say…”

“You heard me correctly.”

For the third time, she has knocked the air out of my lungs. “Well…”

“Let’s skip this whole thing, shall we? Would you mind taking me home?”

“I…” Suddenly, I’m panic-stricken at the thought of her escaping before I have the chance to know her. I realize I’m in deep, deep trouble when it occurs to me that it doesn’t matter if she won’t sleep with me. What I want from her, what I need from her, goes far beyond sex. “Please.” My voice has been reduced to a mere whisper. “Give me tonight. If after that you don’t want to see me again, I’ll respect your wishes.” I reach for her hand and bring it to my mouth, brushing my lips lightly over her knuckles.

She draws in a sharp breath that tells me she’s not immune to me. Not at all. But as always, I have no idea if she’s reacting to me or to the fact that a movie star kissed her hand. I’d like the opportunity to find out.

“Please.”

She looks at me for the longest time, and I have the oddest feeling that my entire life and any chance I have to be truly happy depends on what she says next. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before, and it shocks the living shit out of me.

“Okay,” she says softly, making me feel as if she’s given me a priceless gift.

Maybe she has. She’s given me the pleasure of her company, which is suddenly the most important thing to me.

I turn the car toward our destination, and we drive uptown in silence. I’m not sure who’s more nervous about how this night will go—me or her.





I’m frightened by the attraction I feel for him. I’ve never felt such a strong pull toward another human being, and I don’t know if I’m attracted to the man or the celebrity. Wouldn’t any woman with a pulse feel tingly and breathless sitting next to the specimen known as Flynn Godfrey? Or does what I’m feeling have nothing to do with who he is to the rest of the world and everything to do with who he could be to me? How will I know?

We drive farther uptown, the cross-street numbers increasing with every block. Traffic slows us down in the theater district, where the bright lights of Broadway dazzle me. I haven’t spent much time up here, haven’t ventured beyond Times Square or the designer boutiques on Fifth Avenue. I’ve been where the tourists go. He’s taking me somewhere else entirely.

“Have you been to any Broadway shows yet?” he asks.

“Not yet. The tickets are a little steep.”

“Yes, I suppose they are.”

He probably gets in for free, which is ironic. Those who can most afford admission don’t have to pay.

“Which show would you like to see?” he asks.

“Either ‘Book of Mormon’ or ‘Wicked’.”

“They’re both amazing.”

“Of course you’ve probably seen everything.”

“Not everything, but I try to catch a couple of shows whenever I spend time in New York. I love live theater.”

“Have you performed in the theater?”

“A very long time ago. Back when I was just getting into the business. It’s something I’d like to do again someday.”

A few minutes later, we pull into an underground garage, and my nerves come back with a vengeance. I feel like I’m being taken into the bowels of Manhattan, and I may or may not ever be seen or heard from again. I share this thought with Flynn, who finds it hilarious.

“You have one hell of an imagination, Natalie Bryant.”