Eye Candy by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page B

black stubble. He had his hair brushed forward. With that cleft in his chin, he looked like a young George Clooney. He wore a loose-fitting gray sweater over faded jeans torn at one knee.
    We squeezed into a tiny sandwich place on Fourth Street. “You don’t look like a mortgage banker today,” I said, wiping coffee stains off the menu with my napkin.
    â€œI’m not really. I sort of do PR work. I recruit clients. You know. Go out to lunch with people. Be charming.” He flashed me a phony smile.
    I laughed. “You’re recruiting me?”
    He didn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”
    â€œHow did you get into that?”
    He shrugged. “It’s my dad’s company.”
    I stared at him. “I see.”
    He raised both hands as if shielding himself. “Okay, okay. You know my guilty secret. My family is rich. So now you hate me?”
    I laughed. “How do you know
I’m
not filthy rich?”
    â€œYou work in children’s books.”
    A frazzled-looking, young waitress with pierced eyebrows and a blue heart tattoo on one side of her throat squeezed through the narrow aisle to take our order. Colin ordered a chef’s salad.
    â€œHey, that’s what I was going to order,” I said.
    He grinned. “See? We’re totally in synch.”
    I rolled my eyes and ordered the chef’s salad. “Now tell me your life story, Mr. Rich Guy.”
    Again, he didn’t hesitate. I had the feeling he’d told it a lot. Grew up in quaint, quiet Greenwich, Connecticut. Had a garage band in high school. Wanted to be in a band forever, but ended up at the Wharton School of Business. Spent all his time in college going to the movies. Wanted to be a director and make commercial action films, but with style. Had a few PR jobs with productions around New York and lived off Dad. Desperately wanted money for his own apartment. Worked as a summer intern at Dad’s investment firm, surprised himself by liking it and being good at it.
    And girls?
    It was too soon to ask him about that.
    He held my hand over the table, but we didn’t talk about last night. He’s going with someone, I decided, and she’s away for the weekend.
    Stop it, Lindy. Just enjoy the afternoon.
    He had an ad on the Web site, right? Would he do that if he was involved with someone?
    Maybe. Who knows?
    â€œSo, do you think your life was different?” I asked. “I mean, coming from a rich family?”
    His eyes locked on mine. A strange smile crossed his face. “Well . . . I’m used to getting what I want.”
    An honest answer, I guess. But it made me a little uncomfortable.
    And then I realized he might be talking about
me
. Am I what he wanted?
    We finished lunch with espressos. I knew I should get home to my work. But I didn’t want to leave him. So we made our way up Seventh Avenue, just talking and looking into store windows.
    We were on our way back downtown when I felt a chill at the back of my neck. I suddenly felt uneasy.
    Someone is following me, I thought. I had the strongest feeling, as if eyes were poking into my back.
    I spun around, startling Colin.
    Two women pushing baby strollers had the sidewalk blocked. One of them was talking rapidly on her cell phone. The other squatted down in front of her baby.
    Colin raised his blue sunglasses. “Lindy, what’s your problem?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “I just have this feeling . . .”
    We turned onto Eighteenth Street. Colin wanted to pick up a book for his niece at Books of Wonder, the children’s bookstore.
    â€œYou can buy her some
FurryBear
books,” I said.
    Colin snickered. “I don’t think so. She’s twelve.”
    He disappeared into the store.
    I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I glanced behind me again.
    No, no one.
    I turned to enter the bookstore—and saw Jack Smith coming toward me.
    Had he been