Playing Her Cards Right: Choose Me. Jo Leigh
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to Rebecca, whom he caught in mid-smirk, and he touched Bree’s arm, interrupting her reading. “I’ll be back in a few.”
She nodded, and he went over to Rebecca. He smiled at her friend, then turned to his cousin. “A minute? Outside?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she put down her spoon and walked with him to the door. Once they were outside, she shivered at the cold, but didn’t go back for her coat. “You can thank me now,” she said. “And later. I accept gifts, too. The more expensive the better.”
“We’re not dating.”
“I read NNY, you dope,” she said.
“You read what I write on NNY. And evidently you haven’t spoken to your friend since yesterday before lunch.”
“That’s true. We’re going out after the meals are in the freezer.”
As Charlie stuck his hands in his pockets, she grimaced. The bastard should have given her his coat. “Why did you set me up with her?” he asked.
“Why did you bring me out here to freeze to death?”
He rolled his eyes dramatically and took off his coat with a sigh that would have done a Broadway diva proud.
She curled herself into the heavy wool coat, the lining as luxurious as the tailoring. “Because she’s your type.”
“No, she’s not. She’s not vaguely my type. Do you even know me?”
“Yeah. I do. And those skeletons you go out with every night are a joke. I imagine you can count the ones you actually like on one hand.”
“It doesn’t matter if I like them.”
“You happen to be one of the only relatives I can stomach,” she said, “but Charlie, it’s time for you to move on. You’re what, thirty-two?”
“Thirty-one.”
“Over thirty. You’ve spent your entire working life giving your parents and our family the finger. It’s enough. You need to start living for you, and stop giving them all the power.”
He stared at her with his great big eyes, mouth open, as if the cold itself couldn’t penetrate his shock. “What the fuck are you talking about, Rebecca?”
“Naked New York. Your blog. Not the others, not the legit blogs. Yours. The one that runs every aspect of your life. If you want to call it a life.”
“I’m raking in millions.”
“You already had millions. Look, I have to get back to the cooking. Do what you have to do, but think about it, okay? What it would be like if your evenings were full of things you actually wanted to do? If you went out with people you actually liked?”
“You’re insane. The Winslow foundation has driven you around the bend.”
“Yeah, well, maybe. Oh, and remember. Don’t screw with Bree, Charlie. She may want to play in the fashion big league, but she’s a really decent person. She’s not used to people like us. Tread lightly.”
“I told you. We’re not dating.”
“The way you two look at each other? I give it three days. Four at the most.”
“It’s freezing, and I’m not listening to you anymore.” He brushed past her, and she followed, wondering how such a smart, smart man could be such an idiot.
BREE LOOKED UP FROM the blog page as Charlie came toward her. He looked cold, and she saw why as Rebecca followed him. He’d offered his cousin his coat. Another nice thing, but not in the same league as what she had been reading. “You hardly changed anything,” Bree said, when he stood in front of her.
“I didn’t need to. You wrote a great piece.”
“Wow.” She flipped through the few pages, stopped at her New York picture. “Why didn’t you say anything about my hair?”
“What?”
“It’s all … wrong.”
“You look gorgeous,” he said. “It was difficult to choose which picture to use. Each one was great.”
Okay, there was nice, and too nice.
Her suspicion must have shown because he touched her arm, making her look into his eyes. “I’m telling the truth.”
She didn’t speak for a while. Not that she didn’t have a lot to say, but it sounded mushy in her head, inappropriate for what they were now. There were questions, too, about why he’d come in person, what it meant, and why on earth did she keep imagining longing in his gaze when longing couldn’t be possible? “I have food in the oven,” she said.
“Okay,” he said, staring at her, waiting for …?
“After we put everything in containers and in the freezer, we’re going for drinks.”
“We?”
“Rebecca, Lilly, me. You?”
“That’s a big crowd. Maybe we could whittle it down?”
It was tempting; of course she wanted to be alone with him, but that he’d even suggested it made her thoughts even more confused. “We’ve been missing each other, what with parties and appointments and things. I can understand if you’d rather not join us.”
“No. I’d like to.”
Well, damn. Why would he want to join them for drinks? Rebecca! That had to be the reason. “Good. You can help us put up the food. It’ll go faster.”
“Swell,” he said, and she smiled at his put-upon tone. “Now that you know I make such great tea, you’ll want me in the kitchen forever.”
Bree’s laugh stuttered, and a flush hit Charlie’s face. She walked faster, so fast she had to look over her shoulder to say, “It won’t kill you. I promise.”
He’d come to a full stop. “I’m taking your word for it,” he said, going for humorous, but not succeeding.
She made herself focus on food prep, and not the jumble in her head.
THE BAR WASN’T FLASHY. Most of the patrons were in business wear like Bree and her friends. She’d be willing to wager every last one of them was asking themselves what the hell Charlie Winslow was doing in a less-than-swanky pickup bar on a Wednesday night.
If she read him correctly, he didn’t seem to mind. He had hailed their cab, insisted on paying for the short trip, then walked them inside as if this was the next stop on the Fashion Week tour.
The women in the place eyed him with undisguised hunger, the kind of looks that would make a statue blush, and all she could think was I was with him the other night. Naked.
She had to stop that right now.
They scored a booth in the back, and Charlie scooted in next to her, pressing against her from knee to shoulder. It would have been easier if he’d kept his coat on, but no, it was just him in his close-fitting white shirt, narrow black pants, and his hot body, clenching the muscles in his thighs and his biceps—
“Bree?”
“Hmm?”
“Drink?”
“Ah. Yes. Tequila Sunrise, please. Heavy on the sunrise.”
“Got it.” Charlie scooted out, and she instantly felt more relaxed. Jeez, didn’t the man understand personal space?
Lilly leaned across the table the moment he walked away. The music wasn’t deafening but it still made her have to shout. “Oh, my God, Bree, why didn’t you tell me you were dating Charlie Winslow?”
“I’m not. Not really.”
Lilly gave Rebecca a sharp look before she turned back to Bree.