Wasted Vows Read online

  No wonder she overreacted when I reached out to open it. She’d probably mixed up her portfolio or sample book with her journal and the rest–

  A knock sounded at my office door. I straightened and rose from my seat, then checked my Breitling. Yup. Right on time.

  “Come in,” I said.

  Jeffrey opened the door. “Mr. Drake, I’ve got a reporter from Twin Cities Magazine here to see you.”

  “Right. See him in.” I’d spoken to the guy on the phone. He’d waxed lyrical about how good I’d look on this year’s top ten list of hottest bachelors in Minneapolis. I’d cringed so hard I nearly dropped the phone.

  These guys never wanted to talk business. All they cared about was how good I looked in a suit and that I’d managed to avoid getting my head caught in the noose of a gold digger with over-inflated tits and lips. It seemed to be the current trend. Selfies were more popular than success. Unless, of course, the selfies involved Cristal and Lamborghinis.

  The other stuff – the hard work, the data and profit margins, the marketing details – made most reporters I’d spoken to yawn right in front of me. I didn’t expect this to be any different than all my previous annoying experiences with the local press.

  Jeffrey stepped back, wringing his hands. He still blamed himself for the lack of proper vetting for that Brewergate incident.

  Jones Le Blanc strode across the teal-gray carpets, his bleach blond hair glinting beneath the lights. He stuck out his hand, fingertips manicured, of course, and flashed a flawless grin my way. “Mr. Drake, can I say it’s an honor?”

  “You can, but it’d probably be an over exaggeration,” I replied. I chuckled to let him know it was a joke. Unlike a lot of young hot shot executives in the city, I didn’t take myself too seriously. At least I hoped not. And if I did, well, my mom would call me in a heartbeat and tell me to come down to earth or else she’d knock me back down.

  He joined in with an obligatory “ha ha,” but I could tell he only wanted to keep up appearances and blow smoke up my ass on the possibility that I’d spill my guts to him, winning him a Pulitzer.

  “Please…” I gestured for him to take the seat the gorgeous event planner vacated hours before.

  Luna Faye. Even her name was gorgeous and slid off my tongue like butter.

  I pushed the compelling woman from my thoughts. Not only was it unprofessional to lust after an employee, but I knew nothing about Luna, apart from the fact that she slapped hard and ran fast. Frankly, I’d never met another woman quite like her. All mystery and luscious curves. Most of my female colleagues wore tailored tweed and had ultra-conservative or even ballsy personalities as they scratched and clawed their way up the ladder. Any man who got in their way better look out lest he find his balls in his mouth and a dull knife in his back.

  Jones Le Blanc lowered himself into the proffered chair. He placed his tablet on the desk and clicked the button on its side to unlock the screen. “I’m serious, though, Mr. Drake. It’s a great honor to be talking with you today.” He cleared his throat and touched the ascot around his neck. The dude looked like something out of Nantucket Island rather than Minneapolis.

  “Thanks.” I hid my awkward reaction by shifting my pen holder closer to the edge of the desk. Another memory of Luna shot up out of the blue. Dammit, I had to stop doing that. My groin fired to life. All I needed was Jones thinking inappropriate thoughts about me.

  “All right. So obviously, you know you’ve been chosen as one of Minneapolis’ top ten bachelors this year,” Jones said and tapped on the tablet’s screen. “I’m sure you’re super excited. We certainly are.”

  Not.

  “I’m flattered.” I supposed I was flattered but not excited, and that was the truth, but I didn’t kid myself about the contents of this interview. The theme would be banal questions about my home life and eligibility. And one inappropriate one just to keep me off balance.

  “So, we’re going to do, like, an opening paragraph on your background. I’ve got all my research done for that one, but I’d like to ask you a question for it, regardless.”

  “Sure. Fire away,” I said and crossed my fingers under the desk. Come on, dude. Ask me about the reason I was promoted to Global Marketing. Ask me about my work in Japan marketing for their Olympic Archery team. You can even ask me if I braved a serving of Fugu, the deadly Pufferfish.

  “Is it true you’ve recently come back from Japan?” Jones asked.

  “That’s true, yeah. I was overseas doing work for their Olympic Archery team,” I said, and my mood lifted. This was the part where he’d ask me what kind of work I’d done.

  “Oh, awesome. And how would you compare the women there to the ones in good ole Minnesota?” Jones asked, fingers poised above the screen of the tablet.

  I sighed. Here we go again. “I wouldn’t compare them. I don’t see women as objects to be compared. They’re human beings. Each one is beautiful and special for the unique gifts they bring.”

  “Ooh! Good answer,” Jones said and typed without looking at the screen, his lips pursed in concentration. “That will satisfy the feminists.”

  Another wave of cringe washed over me. Satisfy the feminists? I wasn’t trying to satisfy anyone. I was just being me.

  “And you’re back from Japan now, obviously,” Jones said. “Does that mean you’re ready to settle down? Is there a special lady in your life?”

  My thoughts grasped at Luna again, and I swallowed. Her gorgeous face floated across my consciousness, all full lips and wide eyes. What the hell? I didn’t know her at all, apart from the fact that she’d practically sat in my lap after knocking half my shit off my desk. Elegant and poised females were the order of the day. I’d never even had dinner with a klutz. “I haven’t met anyone, no. I’m focused on work right now.”

  “Work,” Jones said and pulled a face. He twirled his right wrist. “That’s all right. I’ll spin that in a positive light.”

  I cracked my knuckles under the desk and counted to ten in my head. Why did this shit mortify me to this extent? It wasn’t that bad. There were plenty of men who’d take this opportunity to expound upon their strengths to attract the ladies of Minnesota. After all, there was a top ten bachelorette list too. Hey, maybe they’d throw a cocktail party so the top twenty could all meet each other. Anything to get the inappropriate Luna Faye off my mind.

  I’d never been the hound dog type of guy. That was probably why Ross and I hit it off back in college. He’d been family guy in training all the way.

  Jones cracked his knuckles. “All right, I think I’ve got enough for the intro. Now, we can get to the real questions.”

  “The real questions?” Damn. I thought those had been the real questions. There were more? It was going to get worse than this?

  “That’s right. This year, we’re doing a top ten question section for our top ten bachelors.”

  “Ten questions. That’s all?” I barely managed to keep the relief from my expression.

  “Are you ready?” Jones asked and patted his thighs as if I was a puppy dog about to get a meaty bone.

  I flashed him my fangs. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Okay, great.” Jones’ fingers hovered again. “First question. What attributes do you want in your perfect partner?”

  Words failed me. This was news? For Twin Cities magazine? “Uh, I like ambitious women.” That was the best I could do. I hadn’t dated in a long time. I wasn’t a prude, but damn, I didn’t wander around chasing pussy as if women were cheap plastic trophies like some of the guys I knew. They had it on the brain.

  I had success and my well-deserved promotion on the brain.

  “Ambitious,” Jones said and typed out the word. He didn’t look too thrilled about my lack of enthusiasm. I could almost see him arguing with his editor, reading between the lines, and embellishing my article. “Okay, but what about hair color?”

  “Is that the next question?” I asked.

  “No, it’s the same question.
The attributes. Weight, height, hair color, breast size.”

  “Breast size!” This was a classy magazine. No way would they ever print that inside the lauded pages without some serious backlash.

  “Well, yeah,” Jones Le Blanc said and tilted his head to one side. “Our readers want the dirty details, if you know what I mean. Every woman has a fantasy that includes landing a top ten man, and they’ll be mentally cataloging their own attributes to see if they fit with your desires.”

  “Are all the questions like this?” I asked.

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  I sank into a pit of inner despair. This would be a long damn interview. I let the questions wash over me and gave short answers. They didn’t seem to satisfy Le Blanc, but I didn’t have anything of note to say about trivial crap. I was attracted to a woman’s feminine energy and her essence. The trappings didn’t matter. Attraction lived in the soul.

  No, I didn’t want to date a celebrity. Yeah, I watched sports. Twins. Vikings. Wild. No, I didn’t care if my potential partner watched sports or not.

  I kept my shoulders loose, and my fists clenched in my lap. Finally, it ended, and Jones switched off his tablet and tucked it under his arm. “Thanks so much for the interview, Mr. Drake. Our readers will be thrilled to learn more about the mystery man at Unique.”

  I stood and shook his hand again. “It was my pleasure,” I lied.

  “Listen, one of our photographers will be in contact shortly. We’ll organize a shoot for your page,” Le Blanc said. He held onto my hand a second longer. “Soft skin,” he said, then let go as he made a mental note. “Have a good evening, sir.”

  “Thanks.” I wiped my hand on my pants. “You too.”

  Jones hurried out of the office and down the hall. I slumped and planted both fists on the table. “Cheee-rist.” I drew the word out. “What a train wreck.”

  “Everything all right, Mr. Drake?” Jeffrey asked and rapped his knuckles twice on the door, after the fact. Where had he been when I needed him to run interference?

  “Fine, Jeff, just fine. Uh, could you call Lou around to the front of the building? I think I’ll call it a day.”

  “Of course.”

  It took ten minutes to get my shit together and traipse down to the car. Lou drove me back to my house – another five minutes. I’d chosen the spot because it was as close to my office building as I could get without actually sleeping at the desk.

  I patted Lou on the arm, bid him farewell, and hustled up the stairs and into my condo.

  Kicking the door shut behind me, I breathed in the scent of freedom. For another twelve hours, I wouldn’t have to think about anything but work. Normal folks might not understand, but I lived for my job.

  I loved everything about it, from the rush of propositioning new clients to the rough and tumble of competing for top spots on the corporate ladder. I lived, breathed, ate, and slept marketing. Even my dreams were about my next pitch. Some nights, I’d pop awake with my next great idea. I even kept a notepad on my nightstand to capture them. On the wings of one of those nocturnal epiphanies, I’d snagged this last promotion. But I needed the Twins to move higher, and with it, I needed Luna Faye.

  Needed her.

  I sighed as I put my briefcase on the sofa, then loosened my tie and strode over to the bar. Needing women wasn’t high on my list of priorities, and it stung. I kept my home bar stocked with the best liquor money could buy. A sneaky drink was my only luxury. It was a habit I picked up from my dad to help release the tension of a stressful day.

  He loved a glass of good scotch on the rocks, and every time I visited, he made sure to pour me one. Mom still clucked her tongue over the shared indulgence, but we ignored her and imbibed anyway. I loved the parental units with all my heart, and I made a point of popping in once a month, just to check in.

  I grabbed a tumbler, then sloshed some scotch into the bottom of the glass. I walked it around to the sofa and sat down. “That’s the stuff,” I grunted, and kicked off my shoes, enjoying the smoky liquid as it snaked down the back of my throat to soothe my frayed nerves.

  I took a sip. Then another and another. I downed the rest of the glass in one go, then got myself a refill and sat back down again.

  My briefcase called to me. The curiosity about Luna Faye and the gorgeous sway in her step tugged at my alcohol-soaked noggin. Who was she, really? Not the persona she presented to me and the rest of the world, but the woman underneath. Why had she acted so weird when we first met? In a business meeting, I’d never been smacked before. It was a first. I had a feeling that she was a first. Unique. And that kind of woman got my attention just by yanking my chain. The best part was that she had no idea she’d even done it.

  I snatched up my bag, reached inside and brought out her journal. I flipped it open before the rational side of my brain could kick in and stop me.

  Larissa called today, as usual, but this time she put me on the phone with some guy from Unique Corporation. I was a little shocked at first. Turns out this Corban Drake dude wants me to host an event for the Minnesota Twins. Thumbs crossed that works out.

  Anyway, this guy had the voice of – I don’t want to say an angel. He sounded like hot chocolate dripping down the back of my throat. Damn. I wonder if he’s a Baldwin or a Howard.

  “What the actual fuck,” I said to her book. She thought I might actually look like Clint Howard? My stomach flipped at the insult. I liked the chocolate down the back of the throat part much better. It brought to mind something else that would feel good down the back of her throat. Who was this Luna chick? What had I gotten myself into here? I couldn’t believe that her top-of-mind question happened to be my looks when she’d just gotten handed a plumb catering opportunity on a silver platter. It sounded like something an intern would do. She was far past the age of schoolgirl fascinations.

  I’d never have opened the damn journal if it wasn’t for that fail of a top ten interview and the scotch. Damn it, scotch! Why must you always lead a man astray with your peaty flavor and your one hundred proof alcohol content? I bussed a finger to my temple, already feeling the throb of a headache coming on.

  I snapped the journal closed and shoved it back in my briefcase, then got out my cell. I unlocked it and scrolled through my contacts until I landed on Ross. I clicked the green phone icon, then shoved the phone against my ear. Someone had to answer for this woman’s bizarre behavior since she wasn’t going to do it herself.

  “Hey, bro,” Ross said.

  “Dude. What the fuck?”

  “Uh? What the fuck, what?”

  “That Luna chick is weird, man. What’s her deal? She came to my office today and leaned in so close I could see down her shirt. I thought she was flirting with me, but it turns out she wasn’t. She knocked my pens off my desk and then slapped my hand because she brought a journal to my office instead of her portfolio book or whatever.” The confusion splurged out of me. I probably sounded like a high schooler myself.

  Damn it.

  “Her journal?” Ross asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, and the first drippings of guilt slid down my spine. I’d read her private thoughts. “Are you trying to punk me or something? Because it’s not funny. The opportunity to get this account is a big deal for me. You said she was talented and… competent.”

  “Dude, I swear to god she’s on the level.” Ross crackled the phone around and lowered his voice. “Did she have her glasses on? She’s blind as a bat without her glasses or her contacts. And well, she hasn’t dated in a long time and that might be the reason she’s so awkward. She’s probably not used to being around guys her own age. Horrible, horrible heartbreak in her past. She’s the real deal. Trust me, bro, you will regret it if you fire her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, man. I’m not an ass,” Ross said. “Luna’s good people.”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me? I guess not counting the time you tried to tie me naked to a pole after that Alpha kegger
to see if the cold would make my dick shrink.”

  Ross burst out laughing. “Obviously, this is different. This is real life shit. I wouldn’t screw with you about it. I understand your promotion is on the line. You can trust Luna. I’ve known her a very long time.”

  He was right, and if I could trust anyone, it was Ross. Larissa too. “Fine.” I shoved a hand through my hair. “All right, yeah. I guess I overreacted.”

  “Catch up with you tomorrow for lunch?” Ross asked.

  “You bet. Let’s do a restaurant this time. My treat.”

  “Damn right it’s your treat, hotshot. Prepare to open your thick wallet.”

  Ross clicked off before I got a chance to retort. The doubt about Miss Faye had dissipated somewhat, replaced by an image of her in that tight skirt and loose silk blouse. She was beautiful. Long, silky brown hair and full lips – not too full, though. Yeah, gorgeous. I imagined her with her glasses. Sexy librarian all the way.

  Those were attributes I could get on board with.

  I shook my head. “Too much scotch.”

  Chapter 5: Luna

  The boardroom would’ve scared the skirt off a less professional woman. It almost scared the skirt off me. A mass of shimmering steel and glass looming into the clouds, the outside of the IDS tower was as fancy as the inside.

  I hadn’t formally presented anything to anyone in a long time, and now, I had to present my plan for the upcoming Twins event to a boardroom filled with Unique C-suite executives.

  Surprisingly, only a few of them were older men. Regardless of age, they wanted to hear my plans and would be the ones who decided if we’d go ahead. I’d stayed up all night planning for this, between stressing about my missing diary and whether Corban had read it or not, and downing a quart of Red Bull. The shaking in my hands could be from caffeine right along with my galloping nerves.

  Ten sets of eyes followed my every movement. I stood beside Mr. Drake at the head of the table, clutching the laser pointer I’d purchased specifically for today. My PowerPoint presentation would play on the overhead projector behind us, which lit up a massive square white screen against the wall.