Lindsey Kelk 3-Book ‘I Heart’ Collection: I Heart New York, I Heart Hollywood, I Heart Paris. Lindsey Kelk
nodded towards a group of guys sitting around one of the low coffee tables opposite the bar. ‘I needed two minutes out of the zoo. Don’t you hate it when you go for a drink after work and then just talk about work?’
I laughed, not really sure why. It wasn’t even vaguely funny. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had after work drinks,’ I said, thanking every god I could think of as the stool next to me freed up and he sat down. ‘I’m a freelancer so I work from home most of the time.’
‘What’ll it be?’ the bartender interrupted. I looked down at the menu, flustered. Not a Sex on the Beach or a Woo Woo to be seen.
‘We’ll have two Perfect Tens,’ the guy ordered. ‘Sorry, you like them?’
‘This is my first time here, I’ll have to try it.’ It took me a moment to realize he’d just bought me a drink. ‘I mean, thank you.’ I was desperately trying not to blush and completely blanked. He ran his hand through his light brown hair, which moved just enough to make my heart melt but was still short enough to make it through a game of squash unscathed. Probably.
‘So you’re a freelance what?’ he asked as the bartender presented us with a pair of huge, citrussy-looking drinks.
‘Oh, writer,’ I said, taking a sip. Whatever alcohol was in this was well hidden behind a whole lot of pineapple juice. It was the perfect summertime drink. ‘I write children’s books.’ It didn’t seem worth going into any more detail at this point. That and the fact that I was struggling to put my thoughts into a workable sentence. He was so ridiculously hot!
‘That’s great,’ he said, pulling the straw out of his drink and sipping straight from the glass. Manly. ‘It must be fulfilling to do something so creative.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I nodded, realizing too late that I was making really short work of this drink and not really wanting to go into why I wasn’t creatively sated by writing about toys that go on magic journeys when they shake their musical bells. ‘And what do you do?’
‘I work on Wall Street,’ he said, almost an admission. ‘It’s not exactly creative, huh?’ Even sitting down and wearing a suit I could see how worked out his upper body was. As unaccustomed as I was to talking to a hot man in a hot bar, I could feel my confidence having a crack at coming back up again, like the little engine that could. If that little engine was fuelled by vodka.
‘But it must be challenging?’ I said, trying to slide my empty glass back onto the bar without him noticing. No such luck. ‘I can’t imagine how much responsibility that must be.’
‘Well, yeah,’ he agreed, signalling to the bartender to refill my glass. I reached for my purse and he held out his hand. ‘It is challenging and thankfully, it’s well paid, so I can afford to buy children’s book writers drinks.’
‘You buy a lot of children’s book writers drinks?’ I asked, attempting to flirt. I was rusty but good God, I was going to have a go.
‘Just you and JK Rowling, if I ever meet her,’ he joked. Pulling out his wallet, he passed the bartender what looked suspiciously like a hundred dollar bill, simultaneously impressing and terrifying me. ‘So I gotta ask, do two drinks get me your name?’ he asked, passing me a refreshed glass.
‘Angela,’ I obliged, sipping slowly. ‘Angela Clark. And does accepting them get me yours?’
‘Tyler Moore,’ he said, replacing the wallet and removing something else. A tiny silver business card case. ‘So, Angela, are you on vacation in New York or are we lucky enough to add you to our swelling ranks of writers?’
‘You’re lucky enough to have me for a while,’ I said, trying not to stare at his chest. Reaching in and out for the wallet had revealed a thin white shirt that in turn hinted at a very hard, very toned six-pack. ‘I’m staying for the time being, but I’m not sure how long for.’
‘I hope it’s long enough for me to take you out,’ he said, opening the business card holder and passing me one of the cards. I took it and slipped it straight into my bag. I didn’t want to lose it. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘The Union,’ I spotted the men on the sofa standing up and throwing bills on the table. ‘On Union Square?’
‘I love that hotel. There’s this great noodle place across the square too, haven’t been there in ages,’ he said, swapping the business card holder for a BlackBerry. How many pockets did he have in there? His jacket was like the Tardis. ‘Well now you’ve got me hungry, how about dinner on Thursday? Could I get your number?’
‘Oh, I don’t have a phone yet,’ I winced as he stepped down from the stool. ‘But Thursday would be great, really. Would it be OK if I called you?’
‘You got my numbers, I’d love to hear from you,’ he said and held out a hand, which I shook gladly. Soft hands, firm grip and possibly manicured but I wasn’t complaining. The way I figured it, he was a karmic gift from the universe. ‘Bye Angela Clark.’
And with that I was in love.
I stared after him as he vanished down the wrought-iron staircase with his friends and sipped my drink. Oh, his rear view was every bit as good as the front.
‘Could I get another Perfect Ten?’ I asked as the bartender passed my way. He nodded and miraculously, another appeared from nowhere.
I left a twenty on the bar and hopped off the stool. Turned out I wasn’t that steady on my heels and I wobbled over to Gina’s reserved area.
‘Hey, girl!’ Jenny waved me over from a low bench by the window. ‘I was worried about you until I saw you talking to tall, rich and handsome over by the bar. Johnny yesterday, hot banker tonight, seriously, why do you need my help again?’
I flopped onto the bench and sighed. ‘But they’re both because of you,’ I said, throwing an arm around her. ‘It’s the hair and the make-up and stuff. Not me. Jesus, I couldn’t even get my own boyfriend to have sex with me, let alone seduce strangers.’
‘Seriously?’ she asked, sipping on what looked like a Cosmopolitan. Hmm, I thought, apparently not a cliché. One of those next for me. ‘But why wouldn’t he want to throw you down and ravish you?’
‘Because he was ravishing someone else,’ I laughed loudly. ‘And he never saw me looking like this. I wore nothing but hoodies and baggy jeans. We had sex about once a month on principal. And it had been shit for about, God, do you know I can’t actually remember the last time it was good.’
‘That’s really sad,’ sighed Jenny. I dropped my head onto her shoulder and nodded. ‘He has absolutely no excuse for cheating but if things were that bad, you should have been out of there a long time ago.’
‘And you know what’s really sad?’ I whispered loudly with dramatic hand gestures. ‘He is the only man I’ve ever done it with.’ I nodded to myself and finished my drink. It was definitely time for another. ‘Yeah, maybe I should do it with Tyler, that man at the bar. He asked me out for dinner.’
‘And you’re gonna go, right?’ she asked, taking my empty glass. ‘You should totally go.’
‘I said I’d let him know about Thursday,’ I noticed I was slurring a little bit. The two drinks I’d necked at The Union must have been really kicking in. ‘He was really, really good-looking.’
‘Well, don’t make it too easy for him,’ she said, patting my hand. The room was starting to spin a little, it was so hot. I really wanted another drink. ‘But you should definitely go out on Thursday and if it goes well, I say you do whatever you gotta do. You so need to get back on the horse, Angie.’
‘Yeah, ride that horse,’ I sighed, looking for a server. How long did it take for a waitress to make her way around here? ‘What about you? You’re bloody gorgeous? What about you and horse riding?’
Jenny laughed out loud. ‘How many drinks did you have over there?’ she asked. ‘I’ve