Mister Manhattan

My Thursday afternoon meeting was a no-show. Imagine my surprise when a drenched, flustered brunette slipped into the booth across from me, acting like she was supposed to be there. 

When she slipped back out with a snappy good-bye, I never thought I'd see her again. 

Until I walked into my Friday morning meeting. 

At first, I didn't recognize her - she was dry this time. But from the look on her face, she recognized me.

When she gave the worst pitch I've ever sat through, I thought my boss, and mentor, was going to show her the door - except he accepts the proposal and tells me we have to work together. 

I didn't anticipate I would like her, let alone be interested in her. Sure, she was hot and sassy. But something about her rubbed me the wrong way. 

And yet I couldn't stop thinking about her. So, when she leaves the room and her phone chimes with a new text, I knew I wasn't supposed to look. I also knew I wasn't supposed to cancel her date for later that evening. And I definitely knew I wasn't supposed to delete the entire exchange, so she had no idea what I'd done. 

But I did. And then I showed up at the restaurant, pretending like this was all a big coincidence.

When the date is over, I want more. I need more. 

We start pretend-dating because she needs practice, and I tell myself, New York's most eligible billionaire bachelor, that this is just a bit of fun. 

What could possibly go wrong?