My eye twitches at the mention of the last one. The stories I heard come back to me. “I wanted a better alternative for romance. Women especially said online dating wore them out. That’s what they told me when I went to conferences and events.”
“Yes, but why parties?”
“They’re better,” I say, keeping it simple. “And I want to give women what they want.”
“Will you tell me that on air? I want to roll up my sleeves and share you and your vision with others.”
She’s talking my language. Offering me a chance to reach my goals sooner. But I’ve been burned by not doing my research before, so I toss out some questions. “How much time do you need?”
“About an hour in the studio for an interview, and I’d love to cover one of your parties.” Her voice pitches up with hope. Her eyes are pleas.
But I’ve got limits. I shake my head. “No press at the parties. No media. It’s not a party, then. It’s a show.”
“Fair enough,” she says.
I’m not done with the negotiation though. “I also don’t want a profile.”
Her brow knits in confusion. “I thought you were open to it? Isn’t that what you just said? My boss wants a profile on you.”
But I don’t. “My story isn’t hard to find. The world doesn’t need to hear more about me. How about we focus on romance? What people can get out of a night at Carpe Diem?”
She takes a beat, perhaps considering this step in our tango. “Fine. I’ll focus on the parties, not the Gatsby. I’ll tell David as much.”
I grin. “Yes. Good.”
She sets down her pen. “Then do you want to come by the studio later this week?”
“You don’t waste time,” I say.
“I know what I want,” she says, determined.
I’m determined too, both to seize this chance for business and to spend more time with her . . . for me.
But I’m a patient man. My dick’s agenda can wait a little longer. First, the interview. Then, I’ll devise a new plan for wooing her into my bed.
“I know what I want too, and I’m willing to wait for it. And to work for it.” I let my gaze hold hers for a few more seconds, making my meaning clear. She nibbles on the corner of those lush red lips where the chocolate was only minutes ago.
“I hope you have stores of patience,” she says.
“I absolutely do.”
“Good. So do I.”
Perhaps two can play the waiting game.
When I leave, I buy her a box of chocolate caramels. “Think of me when you eat them,” I say as I press the box into her palm. “Fondly, that is.”
“I’ll do my best, but I make no promises,” she says.
“I’d expect nothing less,” I say, then head off into the city.
14
The Last Word
From the Email Correspondence of Bellamy Hart and Easton Ford
* * *
Dear Easton,
* * *
Thank you again for your time today, though in my haste to enjoy the box of chocolate caramels you plied me with—so very clever, getting me intoxicated on treats—I neglected to give you the address of my studio. I’ve enclosed it at the bottom of this letter. But as I write this, it occurs to me that you probably already know where the studio is, because you’ve probably already researched me.
* * *
Your kindred spirit in preparedness,
Bellamy
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
Lest you think I’m a stalker—I assure you I am not, and I value privacy above nearly all else. I only know what I found in your bio and what you shared on your show. The rest I surmised from our interactions.
* * *
Thank you for the address. I’m counting down the hours.
* * *
Your opponent in the great chocolate wars,
Easton
* * *
P.S. I prefer milk chocolate. Thanks for asking.
Dear Milk Chocolate Lover,
* * *
Somehow I doubt you’re ticking off the time.
I do appreciate what you just said, though, about privacy. So, thank you for that.
* * *
Also, it’s funny how you think you’re some kind of expert at reading me. That amuses me—your presumption.
* * *
Yours in amusement,
Bellamy
* * *
P.S. Shame on me for not inquiring as to your favorite type of sweet treat. But now I know what to get you for Valentine’s Day. A big, heart-shaped box of milk chocolate.
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
Am I an expert at reading you, though? God, no. As if any man could ever attempt to be an expert at understanding a woman fully. I simply do my best, and I try to learn your cues. Fortunately, you’ve given me many. Our interactions have been quite illuminating.
* * *
Yours in literacy,
Easton
Dear Easton,
* * *
Fine. I’ll bite. What have they illuminated? Besides a love of books and literacy, as you noted?
* * *
Though, fair’s fair. I’ve gleaned things about you too. Such as, you hate being surprised. You like battle plans. And you want everyone to like you.