Rush Me (New York Leopards 1)

Matt nodded. “Cool. We’ll come by later. What room are you in?”

The other player smiled, closed-lip. “Don’t worry. I know the one.”

Alexa met his gaze, and for a moment I was certain they’d forgotten the rest of the café existed. And then she ducked her head, high cheekbones flushed. “We have to go.” She grabbed her purse and clutched it tightly under her arm. “See you!”

“Uh—nice meeting you.” I nodded to the two guys and ran after the writer.

She didn’t stop until we were out of the hotel, and then she caught a breath, leaning against the building. Her face crumpled. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into that.”

“That’s okay.” I burned with curiosity. “As long as you tell me what just happened.”

“It’s—complicated.” At my expression, she made a face. “Nathan and I grew up together. He was my best friend. A long time ago.”

“And now you want to make him jealous.”

She buried her face in her hands. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” Taking a deep breath, she let them fall to her side. “I’m a grown woman, and here I am, moaning about a guy I dumped a decade ago.”

“It’s not pathetic,” I assured her. “It’s irritating that people get a hold on us. But it happens.”

She sighed. “Well. Do you mind if we find a liquor store? I lied about the champagne.”

I laughed. “I figured. And maybe we should stop somewhere for clothes? I have no idea what Turquoise is, but it sounds like the kind of place that won’t respond well to business blazers.” She smiled wryly as I thought of one more thing. “Actually—do you have a smart phone? I’m the last person on earth who doesn’t.”

She offered hers, and I quickly looked up the game score. Damn, the Leopards lost. There went opening the conversation with congratulations.

I cleared my throat several times and called him up on my own cell. He answered on the first ring. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I jumped right into my spiel without leaving time to breathe. “Um, so, the author I met with wants to go out tonight—she ran into some old friends, and well, I think she really needed a wing woman. Do you want to—do something—say tomorrow, instead?”

“You got roped into playing wing woman to a woman you just met?”

I snorted a laugh and took a step farther from Alexa. “Well, she had this sad desperate look in her eyes. It would have been cruel to leave her.”

“Also,” he teased, “you’ll almost certainly get her business now.”

Another laugh broke out of me. “Hey! No. You’re bad.”

“You want me to meet up with you?”

I sucked in a breath. “That would be great. We’re going to this place called Turquoise down in the Meatpacking district.”

He was silent for a beat. “You’re kidding me.”

“Am I humorously kidding or ironically kidding?”

“How do you even know about Turquoise?”

I glanced over at Alexa, who gnawed on her pinky nail as she flipped through her phone. “Well, that’s a funny story.”

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“Humorous funny or ironic funny?”

I laughed. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

* * *

At nine o’clock, we entered Alexa’s suite. I scanned the room, impressed, as she set the champagne to chill. Her room included not only a bed and armchair, but a tiny sitting area with two loveseats facing each other over a coffee-table.