He glanced at the newspaper. Another image of Franco Del Rossi graced the cover and he rolled his eyes.
Better you than me, man.
Maybe this thing with Del Rossi would buy him some time out of the media for a while. Garret might not like it at first, but it might be a good opportunity to change his image, right?
Maybe that was what had been holding Natalie back. All those pictures and stories and… Maybe if he settled down...
An image of Natalie snuggling next to him on a wide, leather sofa flashed through his mind, but he shook it away.
He was getting too caught up here. He wasn't going to change himself, least of all for one woman who considered him her mortal nemesis.
He grabbed the stack of papers again. The topmost one was stained with coffee and the last few numbers had been smudged away. Luckily, though, that s
ame person had called three more times.
In case he happened to miss one or two or seven of them.
Just like she did nearly every morning since he'd seen her at the museum's charity ball last month.
Debbie Bowhart. Heiress to a department store mega franchise and, apparently, the world's most insistent woman. If she kept on like this, she might just show up in the office, waiting for him.
Or worse, hovering over his bed at night, a pair of scissors in one hand and a lock of his hair in the other.
He glanced at the phone, and then picked up the receiver with a sinking heart. He had to put an end to this before things got ugly, and what time was there like the present?
He dialed her number quickly, and the line clicked to life even faster.
"Brooks." She sounded breathless as she said his name, like an old movie star when her love rode into the sunset. An oddly fitting comparison.
"Hello, Debbie, I was just returning your call...s." He smiled, hoping she'd be able to hear it in his voice. Maybe then at least she wouldn't go to the papers and slander him.
Maybe.
"Thank you so much. I just wanted to let you know what a wonderful time I had on our date."
Their date? He racked his brain, but he couldn't think of a single date he'd taken her on. Was she talking about the gala? Sure, they'd been friendly. Maybe a little too friendly, but when he hadn't called, he thought she'd get the message.
"I'm glad." He cleared his throat.
What was the easiest, nicest way to let her down? He tried to come up with options, but his mind was entirely blank. Or, at least it would have been if Natalie hadn't been so insistent on filling up his every thought.
"So," Debbie extended the word, then finally continued, "I was wondering if you might, um, want to do it again. You know, go out. I have something important to—"
"I'd love to, but..."
I have swine flu?
I'm asexual?
I'm allergic to you?
"I can’t this week," he said. Lamely.
“Right, okay, well, another time, then.” Luckily, she didn’t press for a different time. Instead, she seemed to rush him off the phone, cutting the small talk to the barest of minimums.
He said his goodbyes, then clicked off the phone and leaned back in his chair.
Why had he done that? Why couldn't he just be honest and tell her that he wasn't interested?