New York Billionaires Series

“I don’t mean to pry.”

“Sure you don’t,” I say, but there’s a smile in my voice. Even I can hear it.

A second later and I’m hit squarely in the chest by one of the colorful throw pillows. I look over at Summer. She’s staring back at me with a gaze that’s half shocked, half challenging.

“Sorry,” she says. “That didn’t hurt, did it?”

Hah. My hand curls around the pillow, hurling it back at her.

She dodges it easily and breaks into laughter. Ace gives a single, low bark of surprise beside her.

“Is this how you treat your clients when they won’t respond to your questions?” I ask. “No wonder Opate Match is in dire straits.”

“I don’t have pillows in my office,” she says. Crosses one smooth leg over the other and shoots me a triumphant look. “You’re avoiding the question, which is fine.”

I push away my half-eaten pizza and lean forward. “How can you believe so strongly in it?”

“In true love?”

I nod. It’s almost like we’re in her office, talking about something rational and not here, in her home at midnight, discussing love over pizzas. I should leave.

I don’t.

Summer sighs, and it sounds like music. “My parents have the perfect relationship,” she says. “They work together, yet they never argue. Or rather, when they do, it ends in laughter because they both realize how ridiculous they are.” Her hand traces the curve of Ace’s head beside her on the couch. The dog looks like he’s in bliss.

“They’ve gone through a lot, too. They had problems having children, and I was always destined to be an only child, but that only knitted them closer together. My dad bought my mom her dream house a few years back and they spend their weekends renovating. It’s like they’re a newlywed couple.”

“You miss them,” I murmur.

“Yes. I love living in the city, but it’s far away from them,” she says with a smile. Shakes her head. “Anyway, that’s why I believe in true love. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Such honesty, it makes my chest tight. She’d answered my question without censure or artifice. Like I’m an actual friend.

“Your tactic worked. You avoided the question yourself.”

“That,” I say, raising a hand, “is because I know the way you work, Summer. You’ll use my answers to win the bet.”

“I’m not that clever,” she says. “How was your pizza?”

“Delicious.”

“You got the pepperoni, right?”

She throws her legs off the couch. “Do you still have any left?”

“Several slices.”

Summer pads across the oriental rug on bare feet and sinks down beside me on the couch. She pushes thick, blonde hair back and opens the pizza carton. “It’s not that I’m unhappy with my choice of only buying two slices,” she says.

“Right.”

“But these just look so good.”

“Have one.”

“If I do, will you tell me I should have gotten more than just two myself?”

“I would never,” I say gravely.

She smiles as she pulls out a slice of pepperoni and takes a big bite. The smooth skin of her shoulder looks golden beneath the lights, her legs are only inches from mine. “That’s deeeelicious.”

There’s a roaring in my head, one that rises to a deafening level when she turns her head toward me.

“How did you describe me to your personal shopper?” she asks. “All three of the dresses fit perfectly.”

The true answer has no business being spoken aloud. That I’d picked them out myself, held the fabric up and pictured her form in them.

“Anthony?” she asks.

I push up from the couch and turn away, looking at the obvious coziness of her apartment. Sitting next to her on a couch is more temptation than I can bear.

Two pieces of paper pinned to one of her walls give me a convenient excuse. I step closer, like I’m examining them. Waiting for the pounding in my blood to abate.

“Oh, that,” Summer says with a sigh. “You’re seeing my whole life’s plan right there. Promise me you won’t judge?”

I can barely make out what the list says in the dim lighting. “I won’t judge.”

“I wrote it about a year ago. I had… well. I’d just gone through a really bad break-up, and it struck me that I had to go after what I wanted, or it wouldn’t happen. Life is short.” The scent of her perfume washes over me and she’s standing right beside me. Soft and warm and light. “So I made a bucket list.”

Fuck my worthless eyes in this lighting, because I can’t make out more than a few letters, it’s printed with such small font. There’s nothing standing in the way of me learning more about Summer, other than my own inadequacy.NôvelDrama.Org is the owner.

Oh, the irony.

“They’re not very big things,” she admits, sounding almost shy. “Try windsurfing. Learn how to horseback ride. But some are, I guess. I’d like to travel to all fifty states.”

I nod, taking a step toward the front door. “It’s good to have goals.”

“It is.” Summer rocks back on her heels, looking up at me. “Hearing some of your bucket list goals would help me, you know. To get to know you better.”

“That’s a much better prompt than asking if I’m a cat or dog person.”

“It’s on the list, too,” she says with a smile. “Won’t you at least give me one teeny, tiny goal?”

“You never give up, do you?”

“Getting to know you better is my life’s mission.”

It’s an exaggeration, a joke at best. So it doesn’t make me panic. If anything, it makes me…