She’s in the army. “Oh. That is a long way.
He released me and picked up his shirt from the chair where he had tossed it. He no sooner had pulled it on and buttoned it before the food and the mouthwatering aroma of grilled steak arrived. The steward rolled in a small table on which our meal was laid out, then bustled about, arranging dishes, lifting lids and opening and pouring wine. He moved chairs from the table on the far side of the room. As he started to leave, Tack handed him bills, the denomination of which I couldn’t see.
Tack held my chair for me and I sat down. “Hmm. Heavenly. I haven’t eaten at Ruth’s Chris in a very long time.”
He took a seat opposite me, picked up his wine glass and sipped. “Try the wine.”
I sipped. “Tastes good to me. I don’t have a trained palate, you know.”
We settled down to eat. I searched for a place to start a conversation. “What about the condo? Did you and Drake talk about it?”
He picked up a roll that looked to be softer than a pillow. “A little.” He smiled. “I’ve known Drake a long time. I know how he is. We’re dickering .”
So my warning him about Drake’s competitiveness wasn’t necessary. “Oh, good. Which one are you dickering on?”
“The big one on the twentieth floor.”
Oh. My. God . A mansion in the sky . Twelve Million dollars . Besides the price, the size variance between the 2,100 square-foot unit on the seventeenth floor and the 6,000 square feet on the twentieth was huge. Why would he need so much room?
I gave him a look. “Seriously? Drake said you wanted a small pad.”
“A small pad is all I need for myself. But then I started thinking about the investment and my sister in Killeen. She’s got four kids. Her husband’s in Afghanistan. They live frugally. If I had a bigger place, she and the kids could have a good place to stay when stuff is going on here in Fort Worth. Killeen isn’t that far away. Or she and her husband could use it as a getaway when he’s home. He’d be insulted if I offered them money, but providing a nice place for them to take a break now and then is a small thing I can do for them.”
He had buttered the roll he picked up. Arching his brow, he offered it to me.
I frowned, considering. “Hmm. I’ll bet the bread here is scrumptious. I usually don’t eat bread, especially with butter, but yes, I’ll take one.”
He smiled, placed the buttered roll on a plate and slid it to me. “Not a drinker, don’t eat bread and butter. Why so much discipline?”
“Controlling my weight is important to what I do.”
He picked up another roll, pulled it apart and started to butter it. “I thought you were a real estate agent. Now I’m curious. What is it that you do?”
“You would ask.” I laughed. “I’ve never been able to describe my business. And even if I try, half the people I tell about it don’t believe I could be making a legitimate living.”
He looked at me, roll and butter knife suspended, his eyelids narrowed. “Oh, yeah? Try me.”
“Well…I’m not a Realtor. I’m an event planner. And a part-time bartender and sometimes model. I help Drake Lockhart out occasionally when he has something special going on.”
“Every bit of that calls for more conversation. How does somebody get to be doing all of those jobs at one time?”
“Total accident.” I cut into my steak and tasted it. “Yum. This is cooked to perfection.”
“You were about to tell me about what you do.”
For some reason, I did want him to know a little about me, but only surface information. I sipped my wine. “Okay, I’ll give you the short version. When I got out of college, I couldn’t afford to sit and do nothing while I sent out resumes and waited for Corporate America to open its arms to me. I had a part-time idiot job with an energy company. I had hoped for an internship or something to develop there, but I must not have known the right people.
“Anyway, one of the big wigs needed to
He released me and picked up his shirt from the chair where he had tossed it. He no sooner had pulled it on and buttoned it before the food and the mouthwatering aroma of grilled steak arrived. The steward rolled in a small table on which our meal was laid out, then bustled about, arranging dishes, lifting lids and opening and pouring wine. He moved chairs from the table on the far side of the room. As he started to leave, Tack handed him bills, the denomination of which I couldn’t see.
Tack held my chair for me and I sat down. “Hmm. Heavenly. I haven’t eaten at Ruth’s Chris in a very long time.”
He took a seat opposite me, picked up his wine glass and sipped. “Try the wine.”
I sipped. “Tastes good to me. I don’t have a trained palate, you know.”
We settled down to eat. I searched for a place to start a conversation. “What about the condo? Did you and Drake talk about it?”
He picked up a roll that looked to be softer than a pillow. “A little.” He smiled. “I’ve known Drake a long time. I know how he is. We’re dickering .”
So my warning him about Drake’s competitiveness wasn’t necessary. “Oh, good. Which one are you dickering on?”
“The big one on the twentieth floor.”
Oh. My. God . A mansion in the sky . Twelve Million dollars . Besides the price, the size variance between the 2,100 square-foot unit on the seventeenth floor and the 6,000 square feet on the twentieth was huge. Why would he need so much room?
I gave him a look. “Seriously? Drake said you wanted a small pad.”
“A small pad is all I need for myself. But then I started thinking about the investment and my sister in Killeen. She’s got four kids. Her husband’s in Afghanistan. They live frugally. If I had a bigger place, she and the kids could have a good place to stay when stuff is going on here in Fort Worth. Killeen isn’t that far away. Or she and her husband could use it as a getaway when he’s home. He’d be insulted if I offered them money, but providing a nice place for them to take a break now and then is a small thing I can do for them.”
He had buttered the roll he picked up. Arching his brow, he offered it to me.
I frowned, considering. “Hmm. I’ll bet the bread here is scrumptious. I usually don’t eat bread, especially with butter, but yes, I’ll take one.”
He smiled, placed the buttered roll on a plate and slid it to me. “Not a drinker, don’t eat bread and butter. Why so much discipline?”
“Controlling my weight is important to what I do.”
He picked up another roll, pulled it apart and started to butter it. “I thought you were a real estate agent. Now I’m curious. What is it that you do?”
“You would ask.” I laughed. “I’ve never been able to describe my business. And even if I try, half the people I tell about it don’t believe I could be making a legitimate living.”
He looked at me, roll and butter knife suspended, his eyelids narrowed. “Oh, yeah? Try me.”
“Well…I’m not a Realtor. I’m an event planner. And a part-time bartender and sometimes model. I help Drake Lockhart out occasionally when he has something special going on.”
“Every bit of that calls for more conversation. How does somebody get to be doing all of those jobs at one time?”
“Total accident.” I cut into my steak and tasted it. “Yum. This is cooked to perfection.”
“You were about to tell me about what you do.”
For some reason, I did want him to know a little about me, but only surface information. I sipped my wine. “Okay, I’ll give you the short version. When I got out of college, I couldn’t afford to sit and do nothing while I sent out resumes and waited for Corporate America to open its arms to me. I had a part-time idiot job with an energy company. I had hoped for an internship or something to develop there, but I must not have known the right people.
“Anyway, one of the big wigs needed to
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