To The Rude Guy in Apartment Five - J. S. Cooper Page 0,65

haven’t had sex in over a year, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to jump into your bed,” I blurted out and then blushed as I realized what I’d just said. The more I talked, the more rude and immature I sounded, but I just couldn’t stop myself.

“I see.” He seemed to be holding back a smile, and I was a bit irritated at his self-satisfied look.

“You’re just not my type,” I said again, though that wasn’t really true. Asides from the gray, he looked amazing for his age. He was perhaps even better looking than Max, Charlotte’s boyfriend, and he was gorgeous.

“Why’s that?” He leaned back in his chair. “I thought I was every woman’s type,” he said, his manner so smug that I wanted to take him down a few notches.

“Because you’re just a bit old for me.” I looked into his amused blue eyes. “Not that you’re not handsome and all. I just don’t date older men.”

“How old are you?” He leaned forward and I could see that he was estimating my age in his head.

“Twenty-five.” Then, because I couldn’t stop myself and I needed to know, “How old are you?”

“Forty,” he replied smoothly. “So not quite twenty years older than you.”

“Yeah, I guess only fifteen.”

“Still too many years on you?”

“Yeah.” I nibbled on my lower lip. “Not to be rude or anything, but I prefer to date guys under thirty.” I wasn’t sure why I kept saying that. Most probably because I was trying to convince myself.

“You’ve said that already, but yes, that is understandable.” He nodded and sat back. “So I suppose this blind date is over before it has really even started?” He picked up a small glass of what looked like whiskey and took a sip. “A pity.” He leaned forward and his gaze moved over my face and body.

I warmed at his once over. He was older, but he was still the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life.

And if he kept looking at me in the way he was looking, then I didn’t know what would happen.

“Well, I mean, we could always have a drink and eat or whatever. I did come all the way here,” I said, taken aback by how completely disinterested he seemed to me. He hadn’t even asked me to stay. Did he not like me? “And I don’t want you to be mad at Max because I was surprised by your age.”

“I don’t want to make you stay here against your will.” He smirked. “I’m sure you have many other dates to go on. Other men to meet and enjoy your Friday night with. Forget Max’s feelings—and my own, of course. I suppose I’m just going to have to live with the fact that at forty, I’m past my prime.”

“Well, you know …”

I looked away, now a bit embarrassed. He obviously knew that he wasn’t past his prime and was just making fun of me. I also had a feeling that he knew that I didn’t go on many dates. I mean, I’d just said I hadn’t had sex in a year. Groan. Something in that supercilious tone of his both annoyed and excited me.

“I have many, many options,” I lied.

He chuckled. “Of course, a young girl like you would.” His voice held a tinge of sarcasm, and I looked up into his eyes again and studied his face. He was really quite classically handsome, probably out of my league, age or not. “I don’t want to keep you if you want to leave. A blind date with an old geezer like me was obviously not in your plans tonight.”

“Well, I mean, I can stay for one drink,” I offered. My eyes dropped to his hands. His fingers were perfectly manicured, long and tan. I could see an expensive-looking watch on his wrist; it looked like a Rolex, and I was definitely impressed. This man was rich, which really shouldn’t have been a surprise, because wasn’t Max a billionaire? I was starting to wonder why he’d agreed to a date with me. “So what’s your deal, you seem like a cute guy. Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He looked taken aback by the question.

I was about to answer him when the waiter approached the table. He looked at me in confusion and then back over at my date.

“It’s okay.” My date nodded to the man. “Would you like something to drink ...” His voice trails off. “Sorry—remind me of your name?”

“You don’t