“Oooooh,” I moan. “Not the crostini?”
“Yes,” she replies with the reverence those appetizers are due. “The crostini.”
“And what, pray tell,” Yari says, “would you be doing that’s better than sailing down the Hudson with New York’s flyest?”
“All our friends will be there,” Billie urges. “And one of Anna Wintour’s minions has been invited.”
“Second or third minion?” I demand sharply.
“Second,” Vale confirms with the aplomb of a woman assured of victory.
Dammit. I’ve been wanting to meet that second minion.
“Think of the fabulous people,” JP says.
“The delicious food,” Vale adds.
“Don’t forget the entertainment,” Billie pipes in.
Their food is only matched by their fun. They have a penchant for games we all play with rolling eyes and exasperation, but enjoy by the end.
It’s not any of their arguments that ultimately persuade me, though. Kenan Ross is one man. Since when did I allow any man to deprive me of something I want? Much less the mere threat of being attracted to him? I’m stronger than that.
“Okay,” I finally yield with a smile to everyone watching and waiting for me to cave. “I’ll come.”
“Well,” Paul drawls as my friends squeal their excitement. “With that settled, let’s get down to business.”
“You’re right, Paul. Down to business,” JP says, clasping his hands under his chin. “So what are you all wearing?”
I laugh with everyone, except Paul, and get caught up plotting my Instagram-ready outfit for the party. How could I have considered skipping it? Sure, Kenan is devastatingly handsome. And, yes, this virile man comes at a time when I’ve sworn off men altogether, but so what? I’ve never met a guy I couldn’t resist.
How different could Kenan Ross be?
2
Kenan