“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Grace said dryly. “Have you ever read an Oxford article? I’ve been doing my research, and I can see why a woman who picked up the magazine would write a scathing letter to the editor. Their male columnists seem to think all women have a secret desire to make sandwiches and give blow jobs.”
Riley fished an olive out of Julie’s glass, ignoring her friend’s glare. “Wait. We’re supposed to aspire to more than that?”
“The point is,” Grace continued, “If this is a competition to see whether women know men better than men know women, I can do that in my sleep.”
Sort of. She hoped.
Actually, she wasn’t sure.
Her friends looked even more skeptical.
“Okay, back to Riley’s secret intel,” Julie said. “Ri, you know who the guy columnist is?”
“Not for sure, but I at least know who it’s likely to be. When I went out for a coffee run this afternoon, I rode the elevator back up with Camille and Alex Cassidy—who happens to be super young and hot, by the way—and I heard them talking about the article. Alex wants to put Jake Malone on it.”
Julie whistled. “Whew, that is a gorgeous turd.”
“How am I the only one who doesn’t know this guy?” Grace asked, feeling uncomfortably out of the loop.
Riley patted her friend. “You’re loyal to a fault. You were blind to the rest of the male population the entire time you were with Greg.”
Grace knew Riley meant it as a compliment, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit like a dutiful Labrador retriever who’d spent her twenties following after her master. She had been loyal to Greg, of course. But she’d been able to appreciate a good-looking guy. Hadn’t she? She’d had her fair share of celebrity crushes. Such as …
Hell, none were coming to mind just now.
Grace 2.0 sighed in despair.
Note to self: check out more men.
Grace racked her brain for everything she knew about Jake Malone. The name did sound vaguely familiar. He was one of Oxford’s golden boys, if she was remembering correctly. She seemed to recall an elevator ride in the Ravenna building in which two rather smitten-sounding women had been lamenting his lack of attention toward them.
Come to think of it, hadn’t she read an article or two while waiting in the dentist’s office? It was the typical guy stuff: “How to Make Her Orgasm in Thirty Seconds or Less.”
Grace snorted. Please.
Then there was the more innocuous stuff … “The Guy’s Guide to Grooming.” “Claiming the Corner Office.”
He was a good writer if you liked the straightforward, no-bullshit style. But while his cocky, cavalier tone likely appealed to his male reading audience, it reeked of condescension and machismo. She wasn’t surprised that females who read his take on women would complain.
“I’ll bet he’s short,” Grace mused out loud. “I’m sensing total short-man syndrome there.”
Riley shook her head as took a sip of the drink the waitress had just put down. “Uh-uh. This one’s over six foot, easy. If his stuff reads as over-testosteroned, it’s because he’s over–testosteroned, and I mean that in the good way.”
Damn.
Grace tapped her fingernails against the table and considered. “But that could still work in my favor, right? If he’s a total caveman, he can’t possibly have a good read on women.”
“I dunno, Grace,” Julie replied hesitantly. “I’ve seen him around at parties. We’ve even flirted a few times back in the day. He’s …”
“Conceited? Macho? Boorish? Give me something here.”
“I was going to say charming. Jake Malone is gorgeous, successful, and, well, nice. There’s not much to dislike.”
This was not good news.
She’d been counting on her Oxford counterpart being a slightly uncouth tits-and-ass-obsessed kind of guy. Instead, it sounded like she’d be dealing with Prince Charming.
But if he was as seemingly flawless as Julie described, that could work in her favor too. It would mean he’d be overconfident. Too sure in his assumptions about women to bother making an effort to actually read her. He’d be all easy jokes and smooth compliments.