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 And now I m done having casual sex, she said into the phone, looking her new
admirer straight in the eye.
 My loss, he said whimsically, then stepped out into the stalled traffic. He moved
with a confident, easy grace that almost made her call him back. Almost. Instead she bit
back the words and a hysterical laugh.
 You re not cut out for casual sex, Claire said, oblivious. Away from the honking
and siren Lacey could now hear baby Lanie fussing in the background.  You have to
keep sex like that on your terms and you re just too soft to do that.
 I did keep the sex on my terms, she replied as she reached the far side of Madison
and continued east on Fifty-Seventh.  We did everything I wanted to do and I mean
everything. Oh God, that whole-house role play that went so far beyond a teasing Are
you a bad girl? Would she ever be able to look a police officer in the eye again?  Things
I ll never ever do again with anyone else. But that s the problem. I did those things
because I felt something for him, something I ve never felt before, not even with Davis.
But it was just more sex to him.
Her throat went tight as she said it, but she fought down the swelling, the tears.
She d come to New York for a long weekend of shopping, theater, live music and
restaurants to get away from the painful memories surprising her in every corner of her
house. In the past Claire would have joined her for the trip. This time she was alone.
165
Anne Calhoun
 I could kill him, Claire said conversationally.  Guys like him know the rules of
the hookup. Hell, they write the rules. He broke them. No jury in the world will convict
me for the pain I ll inflict on him if I ever see him.
The thought of feisty Claire smelling of spit-up and baby powder while she went
toe-to-toe with Hunter made Lacey let out a half-laugh, half-sob as she came to a halt at
Park Avenue.  Don t go to jail on my account, she said.
 I d do it for you, Claire said.  Just say the word.
 Thanks, but not necessary. I m partially to blame. I knew the rules, too.
At the next lull in traffic Lacey crossed partway, stopping in the median separating
the northbound and southbound traffic on Park Avenue. Light from the illuminated
Christmas trees standing in the wide, fallow planter shone on the creases in the cheeks
of the quick-witted businessman. He studiously focused on the river of taxis, livery cars
and personal vehicles streaming by inches away, waiting for a break in traffic, or the
light.
Claire s next words came over baby Lanie s wails, now reaching a crescendo.  I
have to go. Love you.
 Love you, too, Lacey said.
She slipped her BlackBerry back in the pocket of her quilted Talbot s jacket. After a
morning of shopping she d left her purse in the hotel room safe and taken the
Lexington Avenue line north to 86th Street for the burger, then walked the thirty blocks
south through the park. The day had been bright, clear and crisp, perfect walking
weather. The carefully designed winding paths of Central Park gave her plenty of space
to meander and empty her mind. But she d kept the BlackBerry with her. Just in case.
The Burberry-clad man looked south, his profile clean and sharp, his sandy brown
hair ruffling in the breeze. He turned and quirked an eyebrow at her.
 Hi there.
 I m sorry, she said.  Where I live there aren t any people on the sidewalks.
 Not from around here, then.
 The Midwest, she said, not eager to give out specifics.
 In town for business?
 Pleasure, actually, she said.  A long weekend.
He looked up and down Park Avenue, then back at her, a small smile on his mouth.
 Either way, sounds like you could use a drink.
Is this how it always started? Over a drink in a bar?  A drink sounds lovely, she
said.  I m staying at Hotel 57.
 The Opia s a nice bar, he said. Just like that they were crossing the street together.
 Will Thompson, he said.
 Lacey, she said.
166
Liberating Lacey
He looked at her, open amusement on his square-jawed face.  You have a last
name, Lacey?
Oh, God.  Not just yet, she replied, smiling to soften the implied rejection.
 Fair enough, Lacey-with-no-last-name.
He wasn t Hunter, but he had a nice smile and an air of confident experience she
found comfortable. He held the door for her and put his hand at the small of her back to
guide her into the lounge area, a touch that was less off-putting than she might have
imagined. He bought her a glass of wine and talked easily about his work as an
investment banker and living in the city, then bought her another glass and asked all
the right questions about commercial mortgages, her business, her background. A Yale
grad with an MBA from Wharton, a full partner at Goldman, he was thirty-eight,
unmarried and clearly captivated.
In other words, perfect.
Darkness had fallen by the time he asked if she wanted a third drink.
 No, thank you, Will, she said as she stretched, then tucked her hair behind her
ears.  I am at my limit.
 Dinner? Sparks does a really nice steak, or I can probably get us into Nobu if you
feel like rubbing shoulders with celebrities. His smile was so open and inviting, so [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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