Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,20

have been.

When I was in second grade, my dad would walk me to school thirty minutes before class was scheduled to start so I could be first in line once the bell rang, signaling the start of the day.

I don’t fear being late, but I believe there’s value in always being on time.

People appreciate it when you’re punctual, so I made sure I left my apartment with more than enough time to spare. I didn’t want to be even a second late to my first business dinner with Keats.

I left Dudley in Arietta’s care with a promise that I’d bring her back something decadent for dessert.

In the envelope that contained my contract, there was a business card for a car service. I’m permitted to use them as long as the trip is related to work. I considered calling them tonight, but that seemed like a lot of trouble to get from Tribeca to Greenwich Village.

I hopped on the subway before I walked the last block to Nova.

I skim my hand over the skirt of my red dress as I approach the restaurant’s entrance.

This isn’t my first time here. My dad decided he wanted to celebrate Father’s Day with a meal fit for a king, so I booked a table for three. It was one of the best dinners we’ve ever had. The food was a close second to the company. I love spending time with my parents. Our relationship has always been close, but there’s been a gradual shift as I’ve grown up.

I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but I consider them the two most important people in my life, even though they keep asking if I have a boyfriend.

I smile at a man in a black suit greeting people at the door. He grabs the handle and swings it open for me. “Welcome to Nova.”

I grin back. “Thank you.”

I survey the interior of the restaurant. It’s busy. People are seated near the bar, and from my vantage point, it looks as though every table is occupied.

Panic strikes me as I suddenly wonder if I was supposed to book a reservation. I look at the text Keats sent me earlier to double-check that I didn’t miss anything.

“Maren Weber? Is that you?”

I wince when I hear the voice behind me. It can’t be. There’s no way in hell that Christian Knott is here.

Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

“That’s her, and she looks incredible.”

The second voice has a rasp to it that sends a pulse straight through me. I shouldn’t react to it the way I do, but Keats has a voice that can send goose bumps trailing up a woman’s arms.

It’s happening to me right now.

“I’m Keats Morgan,” he says from behind me. “Who are you?”

I turn to face them both because there’s no denying that I can hear their conversation.

“I’m the man who may be persuaded to give Maren a second chance.” Christian chuckles.

Jerk.

Since we’re standing in the entrance to a crowded restaurant, I keep that comment to myself. Shaking my head, I clear my throat.

Keats looks at Christian as if he’s studying his expensive suit and perfectly styled brown hair. “You’re an idiot.”

Christian’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

Keats steps closer to me. I’m hit with the masculine scent of his cologne. Or is that him? Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating.

“Did you call me an idiot?” Christian’s voice jumps in volume.

“I did.” Keats nods his head. “You had a chance with Maren and blew it. That’s an idiot move.”

I realize what’s happening immediately. Keats thinks I was involved with Christian. Ew. Just ew.

“We never.” I reach for Keats’s forearm. “Christian wasn’t my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend. He fired me.”

Keats’s gaze scans my face. “He fired you?”

I nod. “Last week. It was the day I found Dudley.”

The corners of Keats’s mouth curl up in a sexy smile. He turns his attention back to Christian. “My mistake.”

“Are you sorry you called me an idiot?” Christian smirks.

Keats lets out a laugh. “I had it wrong. You’re more of an asshole than an idiot. If you’ll excuse us, we have a reservation.”

Christian’s hand lands on Keats’s shoulder. “You think I’m an asshole?”

Keats swats Christian’s hand away with his own. “I know you are. I doubt like hell there was anything Maren did to warrant termination.”

Christian takes a step back. Unease settles over his expression. I know that look. Keats hit a nerve. “That’s between Maren and me.”

Keats crosses his arms. “Fair enough. Your loss is my gain.”

“She works for you now?”

“She does,”