Shopping for an Heir by Julia Kent Read Free Book Online Page B

facilities, and went back to the table with a heavy heart.
    Even if she was hardened and cynical, even if she knew Steve was using her for business information, it didn’t take away the sting.
    Every date was a balloon filled with hope. Sometimes the balloon was filled with helium.
    This time, it was full of shit.
    And when it popped...
    Squaring her shoulders, she looked for the table, her vision now obscured by so much mascara that everything in the restaurant looked like the woods from The Blair Witch Project .
    As she bent her knees to sit, Steve said, “Cue your rescue text in five, four, three, two,—”
    Bzzz.
    He smirked, clearly expecting her to be embarrassed, pleased with himself for the barb.
    She shrugged. “Can I help it if my friend has a bad case of premature emasculation?”
    Steve paled.
    She looked at the phone.
    Check his Twitter stream, Suz. That guy’s a total ass.
    Steve did a double take across the table and peered at her, cataloguing her face, examining her neck and breasts with a wolfish intensity as she tapped her Twitter app, remembered his handle, and—there it was.
    A stream of real time texts over the last twenty minutes.
    She’s about a five. Could be a seven if she tried harder.
    White wine with beef? Amateur.
    She served in the military. I spent six years at Boy Scout camp all summer and learned more about discipline than she seems to know. Maybe I’ll have to discipline *her*.
    The tweets were all aimed at a handle called PUAsucksess, but good old Steve had forgotten to put a dot in front of them, therefore making them public. It was clear from his behavior that he thought those tweets were private.
    She looked up, a slow burn, to find him grinning at her.
    And then it happened. Kari totally called it.
    The hand.
    The hand reached out and tapped her knee, an exploratory touch.
    You might say he was feeling her out.
    Literally.
    KINO, huh?
    She reached across and gently poked his ear.
    His grin faltered but he scooted his chair closer, eyes on her white wine.
    Tinny laughter preceded his bountiful condescension. “Didn’t you learn about wine? I thought it was a prerequisite in law school.” Touch.
    “No. I studied law in law school.” Poke. She poked his shoulder twice. He startled, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
    “Surely you know that moving in certain business circles is all about cultivating the right taste,” he said. His palm went to her knee, staying there.
    Oh, God. This was worse than that blind date with the guy who kissed his ferret on the lips.
    “No.” She cut him off, fast. “Moving in certain business circles is about being good at business,” she replied, her hand going to his chest, palm over his heart.
    His eyebrows shot up, eyes widening.
    She grinned.
    “But taste is taste,” he said, ignoring the comment, looking down at her hand and licking his lips. “It is cultivated and rarified, and white wine and red meat together is like—”
    “A fish riding a bicycle.” She began randomly pushing on his chest, pecs, shoulders, neck and earlobe, like he was a human version of a sheet of bubble wrap.
    Pop.
    Pop pop pop.
    “Exactly.” He said the word like one praises a small child who has acquiesced, except his voice trailed off. “Drinking white wine with beef is a sign that you’re, well—”
    “Uncouth?” Suzanne finished off her glass.
    His nose wrinkled. “Uneducated.” He slid the hand on her knee up her thigh, his other hand reaching for her stomach.
    Sexual dialing.
    Kari wasn’t just right.
    She was a psychic.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you,” he crooned.
    “Teach me?” Her eyes widened. Oh, brother. Deciding to play along, she pretended to be appreciative. “That would be great, Steve. I am already learning so much from you.”
    Like the fact that she’d rather date a guy who kisses his ferrets.
    This was the problem with having Gerald as an ex.
    Ten years.
    Ten damn long years, and no one else had ever measured