Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
STERLING
After spending the weekend thinking about Camryn, I’m back at work on Monday, and doing my best to throw myself into the cases piling up on my desk. Technically, I practice family law, which means I spend my days drafting prenuptial agreements, and handling divorce proceedings as well as alimony and child custody.
Very rarely, I also handle a personal bankruptcy, or help with an adoption. I’ve also been asked to speak at conferences about family law or ethics. But ask anyone I work with what I’m known for, it’s divorce. The big D is what I’ve lived and breathed for five years now, and what I’ve built my reputation and career on.
So color me surprised that the man known for divorce now has to get married.
The irony is not lost on me.
And the craziest part is that I’ve started to fall for my matchmaker. I know she’s interested in me physically—but she’s given me no reason to believe she wants to throw her name into the hat for a shot at becoming Mrs. Sterling Quinn.
Needing a break from the mountain of work on my desk that only seems to mock me, I’ve asked Noah to meet me for lunch. At ten to noon, I walk over to the restaurant where we’re supposed to meet.
“You look like hell, brother. What’s up?” Noah asks when he spots me outside the restaurant.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I mutter. “Come on, let’s get a table. I’m starving.”
We’re seated at the sushi bar, where we glance at the menu. Once we place our orders, Noah turns to face me.
“Is everything okay? I’ve never seen you rattled before.”
“That’s because I’ve never been rattled before.”
“Getting married is a big deal, man. How’s it coming, by the way?”
I make a noncommittal noise in my throat. “Nonexistent so far. I’ve been on one mediocre date, but Camryn’s planning a big event next month where I’ll be speed dating my way through all the hopefuls.”
“Next month?”
He’s right. It’s already the end of the month. “In about three weeks,” I say, correcting myself, stunned at how fast this is all happening.
Our food arrives, and I waste no time dosing a piece of spicy tuna roll with wasabi. “Let me ask you a question. What kind of girls are going to go to an event like that, really?”
He tilts his head, considering it. “Good point. Probably only those looking for a bit of the limelight, who want a piece of the fortune. Is that what you mean?”
I nod. “Exactly. My guess is that for every one hundred opportunity-seekers, there will be one genuine girl looking for love. And what are the chances that I’ll have a connection with any of them?”
“What are you saying? What do you propose then?” Noah steals a piece of my eel roll.
“Camryn.” I take a sip of tea, waiting for him to answer.
“Wait. You were serious about that before? I thought you were drunk and horny.”
“Sadly, no.” Horny, yes. I’m not going to deny that.
“Okay, so you like her like her. As in, you want to marry her?”
“That word...” I set down my chopsticks. “The idea of marriage makes me itchy.”
Noah smiles wryly. “You want my advice?”
“’Course I do.”
“If you’re going to be a bear, be a grizzly,” Noah says before munching another bite of shrimp tempura.
What the? Maybe he’s hit his head. “Meaning?”
“Go after what you want. Fight dirty. Get it. Make it happen.” Grinning, Noah claps me on the back.
“Be a grizzly, huh?” I smirk. Must be American slang. Stupid is what it is, but I think I catch the meaning.
“You’ve got this.” He smiles, nodding. “Are you done with that spicy tuna?”
I push the plate toward him. “Have at it; I’m going to get back to the office. I’ve got grizzly-esque items to check off my list.”
He shakes his head, popping another bite of sushi into his mouth. “Damn British. You make everything sound so fancy and refined.”
I toss a couple of bills on the table and head out, my head clearer, my heart fuller. Time to go after what I want, consequences be damned.
I want to text Camryn, Shield your ovaries, girl. Sterling’s about to up the seduction game. But it won’t be any fun giving her advance warning.
As I step inside the office tower’s foyer, I spot Rebecca coming off the lift.
Crap.
I’ve been dodging her calls for weeks now. This isn’t going to be good. I haven’t spoken to her since the news broke of my inheritance.
“Ster . . .” She pauses with her cell phone halfway to her ear.
“Hi.” I give her an awkward half wave while my gaze darts left, then right, looking for the emergency exit.
“I’ll have to call you back,” she says into her phone, then drops the thing into her purse.
I shove my hands in my pockets as I wait. I know she’s pissed. She has every right to be.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Her eyes latch onto mine and then narrow into the shape of slivered almonds.
“About?”
“The inheritance!” she shouts.
I take her elbow and guide her over to the seating area. It’s not private, but it’s better than standing in the center of the lobby with people all around us.
“I found out about it the day before the news broke. If you can believe it, I was more than a little in shock. I didn’t exactly spend the day calling everyone I knew to inform them. The only people I spoke with were my mother and Noah.”
She scoffs. “Don’t even get me started on that. You two have an unhealthy relationship.” Then her gaze softens, and she places one hand against the arm of my suit jacket. “Still, you should have called. I could help you, Ster.”
“Listen, Rebecca, I don’t mean to be insensitive, but what we had has run its course.”
She smiles seductively, wetting her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “It was fun. Even you have to admit that.”
I know what she’s trying to do. She’s trying to be sweet and demure, and make me remember her good qualities.
She’s only half right, though. We did have some fun between the sheets, but being married, taking a wife—I need a lot more than someone fun in bed. In fact, that’s just one tiny requirement on my list. All too clear in my memory are the times when she’d rather stare at her phone than me while we were in bed, or that time she threw a fit when I ordered the wrong pizza toppings. What we had wasn’t love, wasn’t even on the same spectrum as love.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I mentally search for a way to say this that doesn’t end with my face getting slapped. “Here’s the thing. We were convenient. We leaned on each other while we avoided real relationships.”
Her optimism falls, and she takes a step back. “I see. And here I thought what we had was nice. Am I the only one who remembers it fondly?”
I keep my mouth shut, because I think agreeing will only encourage her more. Plus, I’m going to be late for my one o’clock meeting if I don’t get back upstairs.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to run.”
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she nods. “Good luck.”
Once inside my office, I realize I have five minutes before the conference call starts, so I grab the stack of papers from my briefcase that I lifted on Friday night from Camryn’s place. I’m sure she’ll want to kill me when she finds out, but that’s just something I’ll have to deal with.