He and Princess turned down a few streets, always staying along the oceanfront property. As they approached a modern looking building made almost completely out of glass, Princess kicked it up a notch and pulled against the collar as she tried to head up the driveway.
Simon gave the leash a few quick tugs. “You’re not going anywhere,” he muttered, but she didn’t seem to care. She pulled again and he gave the leash a quick yank. “Seriously, I’m stronger than you.”
Of course, the one moment Princess wasn’t perfectly behaved, the shiny, red BMW pulled into the driveway. Simon backed up and waved an apology to the driver.
But as the car rolled past him, Simon got his first good look at the man behind the wheel. His heart pounded in his chest as recognition hit him. DuFord.
No wonder the damn dog was pulling. She knew the owner.
DuFord climbed out of the low riding driver’s seat and smiled over to Simon.
It took everything in Simon to not throw up in his mouth.
“Hey, Princess,” the bastard called as he strode over to Simon and the dog. He wore khakis and a pale blue polo shirt. A walking, talking, preppy stereotype.
So what if Simon had the exact same shirt? He would burn it as soon as he got back to his apartment.
DuFord patted the dog’s head and looked up to Simon. “You’re not Grace,” he said with a grin.
Simon searched for any hint of jealousy, but couldn’t tell much through the sunglasses DuFord had on. “No. I’m just taking her dog for a little walk.” He held out a hand. “Simon West. Nice to meet you.”
DuFord stood and met Simon’s hand with a firm shake. “Oh, hey. We’ve actually talked on the phone a few times. I’m Mark DuFord.”
Simon did his best impression of a shocked face. Usually he was ten steps ahead of everyone else and waiting for them at the top. He wasn’t used to hiding his cards. “Mark! I didn’t realize you’d be out here this week. I came up to spend some time with Grace, but apparently she works just as hard surrounded by the gorgeous scenery as she does back in the city.”
Mark barked out a laugh. “Grace is glued to that laptop, isn’t she? I couldn’t believe her face was plastered all over the news. Even putting aside the matter of ethics, Grace doesn’t have time to go running around with a married man.”
“Funny,” said Simon. “She’s always made time for me.”
If he hadn’t been looking for any sign of a reaction, he might’ve missed the tension that crept into DuFord’s shoulders. A swell of satisfaction ran over Simon. DuFord still had some sort of feelings toward Grace.
And that was something he could use.
DuFord put his smile back on, keeping his calm and collected persona on. “So how long are you two in town for? I hope you’re not leaving right after the Blowout.”
“I think we’re driving back to the city Sunday morning.”
DuFord shook his head. “You have to stay longer. I’m having a barbeque at my place Sunday afternoon. You can stop by, have some of the best steak in your life, and still make it back to town before it’s too late.”
And he was in.
“That’s tempting. I’ll make sure to mention it to Grace. How did you know her again?”
“Grace has been doing the Summer Blowout for years now. She’s hard to miss, you know?”
Simon took a step back and nodded. “I noticed. It was great seeing you in person, but I have to be getting back.”
“I’m so glad we ran into each other. It’s a shame the Hunt deal didn’t work out. I’m looking forward to see if you have any more referrals.”
Simon nodded. “We’ll talk. You have a great day, Mark.” No one was more pissed about the Hunt deal falling through than Simon. If that deal had worked, DuFord would be in jail and Simon would’ve been working on Victoria’s projections like he was supposed to be.
“I’ll see you around,” shouted DuFord as Simon turned away.
A grin spread across Simon’s face. DuFord had no idea what was coming.
~~~~~
Grace threw the shirt on the bed where it joined the ten other outfits she’d passed on already. Which was not good, considering she only brought a finite number of clothes with her.
She was happy with her bottom half, though. Tight, black leggings and knee-high, brown boots. It went with almost everything she owned. But no shirt was right. They either showed too much boob and back, or they were much too matronly for a supposed “date.”
Between thinking about the Blowout and dealing with the aftermath of her scandal, she hadn’t stopped to think about proper date-but-not-a-date attire. She riffled through all the options she’d already disregarded. The sequin one wasn’t too bad. It was fun and bright and she got compliments on it every time she wore it.
But it wasn’t Simon’s style at all. He’d probably want someone who was elegant and classic. A tall, waify type who would look beautiful on his arm and know when to shut up and put out.
She frowned. Good grief. The man wasn’t that bad. But the shirt would work. It might not be Simon’s style, but most people here probably wouldn’t get suspicious over a sparkly shirt. She was putting way too much thought into this.
Grace pulled off her T-shirt and shrugged into the loose tank. The weight of the sequins and beading pulled the fabric in a flattering way around her breasts and waist. She let her ponytail down and ran her fingers through her hair, getting a messy, cute look. If they were going to be dancing, she couldn’t do anything too spectacular with it.
She snuck into the one bathroom of the cottage to make her eye makeup a bit more dramatic and put on a bright pink lipstick. As she stood back to assess the results, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. This would be fine. Go out, laugh at all Simon’s jokes, have a drink, maybe even dance, and get home before ten. Easy peasy.
A knock on the bathroom door sounded and Grace jumped. “Yes?”
“Are you almost finished? I wanted a few minutes in the bathroom before we left.”
“I’m done.” She pushed the door open and her heart skipped a beat.
Good Lord, the man was gorgeous. He’d traded the T-shirt for a muscle-hugging black sweater. The dark fabric made his brown eyes seem impossibly large, and Grace had to force herself to stop staring. How was she supposed to fake anything with him?
She blinked away her thoughts and stumbled out of his way. “Go for it,” she muttered as she disappeared into her bedroom again. She sat on the bed where Princess had made herself at home on Grace’s pile of clothes. That’s what she got for not cleaning up, she thought as she ran her fingers through Princess’s fur.
Go out, drink, dance, come home. She repeated the list in her mind over and over, not quite knowing why she was so nervous about the whole thing. It was basically drinks with friends. Nothing mind-blowing.
But there was nothing ordinary about Simon West. When he walked into a room, men bowed down in respect and women practically fainted with desire. She was small potatoes compared to his normal crowd.
That must be what put her so on edge. Everything about him somehow made her feel so inadequate. The people she’d spent years with, slowly gaining their trust and respect, fawned over the business prodigy as if he were the second coming of Christ. She rested her head in her hands. Jealousy! It made so much sense, though! Except for their first meeting, and the clothing incident in the car on the way to their dinner, he’d been nothing but a respectful gentleman, and he’d saved her company and reputation in a matter of days. She owed him more than petty emotions.