crisply. ‘I’ll pick you up at one, we’ll go to Serendipity for lunch and you’ll tell me everything.’
‘I don’t feel like eating, let alone talking.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m suffering from a massive hangover, thanks to all my so-called friends.’
‘Too bad,’ Tina said cheerily. ‘We’re having lunch anyway.’
‘Do we have to?’ Amy said, wishing she could crawl back into bed and forget about everything.
‘Yes, we have to. I’ll see you later.’
Since Tina was about to give birth there was no arguing with her. It wasn’t worth the effort.
Dressing slowly, Amy kept on going over the ramifications of what she’d done. It wasn’t a good thing. Oh, no, it wasn’t good at all. She’d been a bad, bad girl, and she deserved to be punished.
So why was there a smile on her face? Damnit! Why the hell was she smiling?
The second she walked into work, Yolanda was all over her pushing for details.
‘Details of what? ’ Amy said weakly, heading for her desk, wishing everyone would leave her alone. ‘ Nothing happened.’
‘Sure,’ Yolanda drawled, pulling a disbelieving face as she followed her. ‘You’re glowing. Something must’ve happened.’
‘No, it didn’t,’ she said, switching on her computer, willing Yolanda to vanish conveniently.
‘Oh, yes, it did!’ Yolanda said, refusing to go away. ‘We all saw you leave with that hot guy.’
‘I don’t even know his name,’ she said, hoping Yolanda might give her a clue.
But Yolanda’s cell rang, putting an end to the conversation.
Hmm…not that she cared what his name was. After all, it wasn’t like she would ever see him again.
The sexy stranger was her secret wild card–a lustful night of pre-wedding insanity she would never share with anyone, not even Tina.
Max Diamond was the man for her.
Everyone thought so.
Jett was the first to arrive at the Diamond brownstone on 68th Street. The butler who answered the door was a new one. Not that Jett was familiar with his father’s staff, but there’d been an English butler who’d stayed around for a few years. This one was German and quite stoic as he ushered Jett into the panelled library, leaving him to contemplate the many shelves of ceiling-high leatherbound books.
Wandering around the room, Jett noticed that, just as he remembered from his childhood, there was nothing personal. No photographs of family, no trophies or knick-knacks, no magazines, just a pristine copy of the Wall Street Journal folded on a side table next to a dark brown stiff leather couch.
Nothing had changed. Red Diamond did not believe in personal mementoes. The room was a mirror-image of Red. Cold, musty and unwelcoming.
After a few minutes, he sat down on the couch and picked up the newspaper. As he stared at the print, images of the girl from last night flashed through his head again. She was a peach. A beautiful, perfect peach. The kind of girl he’d always dreamed of.
And he would see her again soon…very soon.
‘How was it?’ Max asked.
Amy hung onto the phone, her palms slick with sweat. Had her fiancé found out? How was that possible? Oh, God, what was she going to say? How could she explain her one night of insanity? This was unbelievable!
‘It can’t have been that bad, sweetie,’ Max said affectionately. ‘Just you and the girls. Surely you had an enjoyable time?’
Relief swept over her. Of course, he was asking about her bachelorette party. ‘I drank too much,’ she blurted.
‘That figures,’ he said understandingly. ‘They must have been pouring it down your throat, and there was nothing you could do.’
‘That’s about it,’ she managed.
‘It’s exactly what I’ll have to put up with tonight,’ he grumbled. ‘Bachelor parties are so goddamn dumb, I wish I didn’t have to go. So help me–if they haul in strippers, I’m out of there, and that’s a promise.’
‘You don’t have to promise me anything,’ she said, feeling more guilty
‘I don’t feel like eating, let alone talking.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m suffering from a massive hangover, thanks to all my so-called friends.’
‘Too bad,’ Tina said cheerily. ‘We’re having lunch anyway.’
‘Do we have to?’ Amy said, wishing she could crawl back into bed and forget about everything.
‘Yes, we have to. I’ll see you later.’
Since Tina was about to give birth there was no arguing with her. It wasn’t worth the effort.
Dressing slowly, Amy kept on going over the ramifications of what she’d done. It wasn’t a good thing. Oh, no, it wasn’t good at all. She’d been a bad, bad girl, and she deserved to be punished.
So why was there a smile on her face? Damnit! Why the hell was she smiling?
The second she walked into work, Yolanda was all over her pushing for details.
‘Details of what? ’ Amy said weakly, heading for her desk, wishing everyone would leave her alone. ‘ Nothing happened.’
‘Sure,’ Yolanda drawled, pulling a disbelieving face as she followed her. ‘You’re glowing. Something must’ve happened.’
‘No, it didn’t,’ she said, switching on her computer, willing Yolanda to vanish conveniently.
‘Oh, yes, it did!’ Yolanda said, refusing to go away. ‘We all saw you leave with that hot guy.’
‘I don’t even know his name,’ she said, hoping Yolanda might give her a clue.
But Yolanda’s cell rang, putting an end to the conversation.
Hmm…not that she cared what his name was. After all, it wasn’t like she would ever see him again.
The sexy stranger was her secret wild card–a lustful night of pre-wedding insanity she would never share with anyone, not even Tina.
Max Diamond was the man for her.
Everyone thought so.
Jett was the first to arrive at the Diamond brownstone on 68th Street. The butler who answered the door was a new one. Not that Jett was familiar with his father’s staff, but there’d been an English butler who’d stayed around for a few years. This one was German and quite stoic as he ushered Jett into the panelled library, leaving him to contemplate the many shelves of ceiling-high leatherbound books.
Wandering around the room, Jett noticed that, just as he remembered from his childhood, there was nothing personal. No photographs of family, no trophies or knick-knacks, no magazines, just a pristine copy of the Wall Street Journal folded on a side table next to a dark brown stiff leather couch.
Nothing had changed. Red Diamond did not believe in personal mementoes. The room was a mirror-image of Red. Cold, musty and unwelcoming.
After a few minutes, he sat down on the couch and picked up the newspaper. As he stared at the print, images of the girl from last night flashed through his head again. She was a peach. A beautiful, perfect peach. The kind of girl he’d always dreamed of.
And he would see her again soon…very soon.
‘How was it?’ Max asked.
Amy hung onto the phone, her palms slick with sweat. Had her fiancé found out? How was that possible? Oh, God, what was she going to say? How could she explain her one night of insanity? This was unbelievable!
‘It can’t have been that bad, sweetie,’ Max said affectionately. ‘Just you and the girls. Surely you had an enjoyable time?’
Relief swept over her. Of course, he was asking about her bachelorette party. ‘I drank too much,’ she blurted.
‘That figures,’ he said understandingly. ‘They must have been pouring it down your throat, and there was nothing you could do.’
‘That’s about it,’ she managed.
‘It’s exactly what I’ll have to put up with tonight,’ he grumbled. ‘Bachelor parties are so goddamn dumb, I wish I didn’t have to go. So help me–if they haul in strippers, I’m out of there, and that’s a promise.’
‘You don’t have to promise me anything,’ she said, feeling more guilty
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