The Wrong/Right Man, Page 2

  “For a while I did, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it didn’t. Shit, I still remember when we were kids and all the stories you would make up.”

  I smile at that. “Like when I use to pretend I was psychic and tell other kids their futures?”

  “Yeah, and when you would talk for hours about the guy you’d marry, who’d want to adopt ten kids and you’d live in a huge-ass house.”

  “I still want that.” I smile, turning to look out the window, then say softly, “Even if I never find the right guy, I want to adopt. I want to give a child or children a home where they know they’re safe and loved.”

  “I know you do.” He presses his knuckle against my cheek where my dimple is, making my smile bigger.

  ________________

  “HOLY SHIT, BITCH. Look at you!” Maggie, the owner of View—one of the most popular clubs in Seattle—shouts as soon as she spots me sitting on the edge of the stage where Jamie and his band are setting up for their show.

  When I met Maggie, I wasn’t sure what to think of her. On first impression, she comes across as aggressive, with her loud personality and outward appearance. She looks like a rock chick, with her white almost silver hair shaved on the sides and longer on the top in an almost Mohawk, makeup that is always extreme, and outfits that make it look like she walked off the set of a ‘90s rock video.

  “It’s just jeans.” I hop down to greet her with a hug, and when she lets me go, she grabs my biceps to examine me more closely.

  “‘Just jeans my ass. You look hot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down or wearing makeup. I’m totally digging the whole vibe you’ve got going on.”

  “Thanks.” I can’t help my smile. She’s not the first person who’s complimented me over the last few days, which seems a little odd, since I didn’t do anything to my appearance but change how I was dressing. Then again, it might not be about my clothing. Since Jamie gave me the jacket I’m wearing, I’ve felt like I got a little of my power back.

  “Anyway, I was going to ask Jamie for your number, but since you’re here, I’ll just talk to you in person,” she says, getting a look in her eyes that puts me on guard. “Don’t freak out yet.” She takes a hold of my wrist and starts pulling me across the empty dance floor toward the bar. Once we reach it, she plants me on a stool then walks around to the back of the bar, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the top shelf then a salt shaker and a couple slices of lime.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask as she places a glass before me and pours out a shot.

  “Not drunk but pliable.” She grins.

  “This should be good,” I mutter, picking up the shot and shooting it back before shaking my head at the salt she holds out. But I do take a piece of lime and bite into it.

  “Now.” She pours me another shot, and I raise a brow, wondering exactly what it is she has to tell me. I pray it has nothing to do with Jamie. She motions for me to take the second shot, so I shoot it back. “I have a friend I want you to meet.”

  “No.” I cough, motioning for her to hand me the second piece of lime she’s holding.

  “Hear me out.”

  “Maggie.” I sigh, dropping my forehead to my hands resting on the top of the bar.

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “They’re all good guys until they aren’t anymore.”

  “You have a point,” she says, and I lift my head to look at her. “I’m not saying you have to date him, but I want you to meet him. Please.” She holds her hands in front of her in a prayer position.

  “Okay.” I sigh.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  She rubs her hands together, looking far too happy with herself. “This is going to be great. I promise—he’s nice, and perfect for you.”

  “I’ll meet him for coffee.”

  “Dinner.”

  “Coffee.” I hold firm. There is no way I want to sit through an hour-long dinner with someone I don’t know and don’t like.

  “Fine, coffee.” She rolls her eyes. “But when you marry him, I expect to be your maid of honor.”

  I snort, knowing that’s not going to happen. “Fine.”

  “I’m telling you now; you’re going to thank me. You two are perfect for each other.”

  I doubt that, but still I say, “Tell me about him.”

  For the next thirty minutes, I listen to her drone on and on about Adam, but if I’m honest, I don’t remember half of what she tells me due to the shots of tequila she continues to feed me throughout our conversation.

  Chapter 2

  DAKOTA

  MY FOOT BOUNCES as the cab I’m in fights traffic to get me across town, where I’m meeting my blind date for coffee. After my first week of work, the last thing I want to do is go out, but Maggie called me this morning to confirm I still planned on showing up, and I couldn’t tell her no.

  “It’s just coffee.”

  “What?” the driver asks, and I shake my head.

  “Sorry, just talking to myself.” I glance at my phone. Being late, hungry, and exhausted is making me feel more anxious than I would normally be. My first week at IMG was great, but with so much to learn and do, it’s taken a toll on my sleep. Then there’s getting used to living on my own again. I love having my own space and a bed to sleep in, but I miss having someone around to chat with at the end of the day.

  “Fuck.” The driver hits the brakes, making me slide forward in my seat, and I place my hand on the glass in front of me to keep from banging my head into it. I sit back in my seat and look through the windshield, noticing two cars have gotten into an accident blocking both lanes. He rolls down his window and sticks his head outside, motioning with his hand. “Stupid idiots, get out of the road.”

  “Fuck you. Go around!” a large man who looks like he eats small children yells back with a not so nice hand gesture.

  “I can’t go around. No one can go around!” my driver shouts, pissing the big guy off, and he starts toward the cab I’m in with a vein in his head visibly throbbing.

  “I’m just going to walk the rest of the way,” I blurt, and my driver turns to look at me. I glance at the meter and take a twenty out of my purse, handing it over to him.

  “You’re still four blocks away.”

  “I don’t mind walking.” I give him a smile and get out of the cab, hurrying to the sidewalk. I pull up a GPS app on my cell and type in the coffee shop then groan inwardly. It’s almost a fifteen-minute walk, something that wouldn’t be bad if I weren’t wearing heels.

  With no other choice, I place my purse on my shoulder and move forward, telling myself this is a good way to get in my steps for the day. And I’ll have definitely earned the right to eat the double chocolate brownie ice cream I bought a few days ago.

  I reach the intersection across from the coffee shop fifteen minutes later and wait for the walk sign with everyone else. That’s when I see him. My heart starts to pound, my throat closes up, and my pulse quickens as I take in the imposing figure across the street. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful man.

  His suit-covered shoulders are broad, his hips lean, and his legs long, thick, and powerful covered in a pair of dark grey slacks that match his suit jacket. The dark-blue dress shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned, showing the thick column of his throat. He jerks his fingers through his hair then checks his watch, his jaw ticking in annoyance, making me wonder if he’s mad I’m late.

  Someone knocking into me pulls me from my perusal, and I try to pull it together as I move with the crowd across the street. His mint-green eyes lock on me as the crowd around me disperses, and I notice a glimmer of something within their depths that causes goose bumps to rush across my skin like a tidal wave. When he lifts his eyes to mine, I smile nervously, feeling warmth spread down my neck, but then stumble forward when my heel catches on a crack in the pavement. By some miracle, he manages to step forward to catch me with his hand on my hip before I can do a face plant.<
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  “Adam,” I breathe as I place my hands lightly on his chest, and he drags his eyes off my lips to meet my gaze. “I’m Dakota.” I jerk my hands away from his hard chest and take a step back out of his space, noticing a glimmer of displeasure flash through the green of his eyes like lightening. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a little insane then there was an accident and my cab driver was going to get into a fight so I ended up walking,” I ramble, waiting for him to say something, anything, and when he doesn’t, I start to feel unsure.

  Oh, God, what if this man isn’t the one I’m supposed to be meeting? I smile nervously, tipping my head to the side and feeling my hair slip over my shoulder. “Please tell me that you’re Adam and not some random man I’m accosting on the street.”

  His eyes roam mine then his lips tip up into a slight smile. “I’m Adam.”

  Relief fills me and the tension in my muscles eases. “Thank goodness.” I swipe my brow and he grins. Good Lord, this man is dangerous. “Mags refused to show me a photo of you. She just told me that you’d be here, dressed for work and wearing a watch.”

  “That’s not a lot of information to go on.” The rumble of displeasure in his statement catches me off guard.

  “You know Maggie. She’s…” I press my lips together then smile and shrug. “She’s Maggie.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees, and I wonder why Maggie didn’t tell me how intense he is.

  “Right.” I let out a breath while taking him in then look at the coffee shop briefly, noticing him suddenly get stiff as he looks over the top of my head. “Umm… I know I said this was just a coffee date, but I’m starving. Do you mind if we go to the pizza place down the block?”

  “I have a better idea.” He startles me by wrapping his fingers around my upper arm then sliding them down to capture my hand. “I know a great Italian place that’s not too far from here.”

  “Oh.” I drop my gaze to our connected hands. I’m sure my palm shouldn’t be tingling.

  “We’ll take my car.” His fingers squeeze mine, making my pulse skip a beat.

  “Okay.” I let him lead me down the sidewalk and almost stumble again when the lights on a Benz flash, and not just any Benz, one of those SUV ones that costs more than I will make in the next two years.

  He stops at the passenger side, opening the door for me, and once I’m inside, he slams the door closed then prowls around the hood to get in behind the wheel. Lord in heaven, I don’t think a man should look so good in profile.

  “Ready?” He turns to look at me as he starts the engine.

  “Sure.” I take a deep breath, willing my heart to slow down.

  “So tell me a little about yourself,” he says, looking over his shoulder as he pulls out into traffic.

  “Well, I’m sure Maggie told you that I moved to Seattle a few months ago.” I shift in my seat and notice his eyes glance briefly at my thighs, making them feel hot.

  “Where from?”

  “Tacoma.” My leg starts to bounce in sync with his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

  “Why Seattle?”

  “My brother has always lived here, and he convinced me to stay with him when—” I quickly cut myself off. “I needed a change.”

  “You and your brother are close.”

  It’s not a question, but I still say “Yeah” as I hold my purse in my lap a little tighter. “Maggie said you grew up here.”

  “I did.” His hands flex on the steering wheel as he presses more firmly on the gas to enter the highway. “How did you and Maggie meet?”

  “She knows my brother.” I fiddle with the handle of my purse as he takes the next exit. “His band plays at her club every Friday and Saturday.” I watch him turn into a hidden driveway and up to the valet parking lane out front of a restaurant named Altura.

  “Are they any good?”

  “Pardon?” I look at him, finding his eyes on me.

  “Your brother’s band, are they any good?”

  “The best.” It’s not a lie. They are one of the most popular bands in Seattle, and if things go as planned, they will soon be signed to a record label and sent out on tour.

  “I’d like to hear them sometime.” He graces me with a smile before opening his door. He leaves the engine running and gets out, walking around the hood. I see him shake his head at the attendant who approaches my side of the car to let me out, and my stomach flips as he opens my door and holds out his hand.

  I take it, allowing him to help me down, and then walk at his side into the restaurant. “This place is nice.” I look around the dark interior that is decorated in warm browns and golds, with each table seeming private and intimate, lit with only candlelight. “Really nice.” I tip my head back to look at him and catch his eyes flash with desire.

  “Good evening, do you have a reservation?” the maître d’ asks when we reach the podium.

  “We don’t have a reservation,” I whisper, and Adam chuckles before he turns toward the older balding man wearing a suit with a red bowtie.

  Recognition fills the man’s expression and he clears his throat. “Sorry, Mr. Adams, of course.” He dips his chin at Adam—or is Adam his last name? Then he smiles at me. “If you’ll both follow me.”

  “You made a reservation for tonight?” I ask as he takes my hand and walks with me through the open room toward a set of stairs that lead to what I’m guessing is the top floor.

  “I have a standing reservation.” He lifts my hand and kisses my fingers, catching me off guard, and judging by the look on his face, he didn’t do it on purpose.

  “You have a standing reservation here?” My tone is filled with surprise, because I am surprised. Who has a standing reservation at a place like this?

  “I like the food here.” He shakes his head at the maître d’ before he can pull out my chair for me and comes around to stand behind me to do it himself.

  I take the seat when he nods for me to do so then accept a menu. I hold it up, nibbling my bottom lip and trying to figure out who this guy is. I know I was a little drunk as I listened to Maggie tell me about him, but I feel like I would remember her saying he’s loaded. Okay, I don’t know that he’s loaded, but judging by his ride and the cost of an appetizer at this place, I’m going to assume he is. Then there’s the fact that the maître d’ addressed him as Mr. Adams, meaning Adam is his last name not first. Why would Maggie tell me his name is Adam?

  “Is Adam your last name?” I blurt the question, looking at him over the edge of the menu.

  “It is.” I study him as he places a napkin on his lap.

  “So what’s your first name?”

  “Braxton.” Interesting, that name fits him better, but it still doesn’t make sense. “A lot of people call me Adam, Maggie being one of them.”

  Okay, I guess that makes sense. “And you’re in banking?” I remember Maggie telling me that, or I’m pretty sure I remember her saying something about it.

  He leans forward, not answering my question, placing his elbows on the table. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I lick my lips then glance around, feeling like being in his presence and in a restaurant this nice is too much for me to handle.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I focus on him, and before I can think, the truth spills out. “It’s just, Maggie told me that you were handsome, but she didn’t prepare me fully, and then your car, and this place…” I wave my hand around. “I feel like I should have had a little more warning about you.”

  “You don’t like my car?” He sits back, raising a brow.

  “I’m not saying that.” I shake my head. “I just know it’s expensive, and everything on the menu here is more than I spend on groceries in a week.” I look around the empty space and wonder if this is where he always sits when he’s here, away from everyone else. This seems like somewhere a CEO would bring potential clients, not somewhere a guy just wanting a warm meal would sit.

  He reaches for my hand, gaining my attention, and I notice his expr
ession has softened. “How do you feel about cheap Chinese food?”

  “Would you think less of me if I told you I love it?”

  “No.”

  “Then I love it.” I sigh, placing my menu down.

  “Let’s go.” He stands, tossing the napkin from his lap onto the table, and my brows draw together.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, wrapping my fingers around his as he pulls me up to stand.

  “To eat Chinese.”

  I blink at him in disbelief, but he just ignores me and leads me back down the stairs through the restaurant and out the door, where his car is still waiting to be parked. He opens the door for me to get in, and then a moment later, he gets in behind the wheel.

  “I didn’t mean we had to leave,” I say, turning in my seat toward him.

  “I know.” He starts the engine then grabs his phone, typing something in. Seconds later, the sound of a phone ringing fills the silence. “What do you want to eat?”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I’m always serious.”

  I believe that. I really, really believe that.

  “Gorgeous, are you going to stare at me or tell me what you want to eat?” he asks as a distinctively Asian voice comes through the car speakers.

  “Chicken lo mien,” I say softly then listen to him place his order and mine before ending the call.

  “Are they going to be mad you left without saying anything?” I ask as he puts the engine in drive and pulls away from valet.

  “I don’t care if they are.” He stops at a red light, and I feel his eyes on me as I chew my lip, trying to process everything that’s happened. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Maggie didn’t tell me how intimidating you can be.”

  “I intimidate you?”

  I want to laugh. I bet he intimidates everyone he meets. “You’re a little overwhelming.”

  “Overwhelming?” he repeats, sounding like he doesn’t understand.

  I try again. “You seem like you’re a lot to handle.”

  “What makes you say that?”