Mad about the Banker Read online

  Fear grips my throat that he’s going to single me out and ask me something I can’t answer. Oh, shit, is this a speakeasy or some private party that I’m crashing? Just then someone knocks on the glass door. The man turns to open it and shakes hands with the person who’s entering.

  You have to be shitting me.

  In walks the guy from Starbucks the other night.

  Makes sense. This is definitely the right kind of place and people for him. He never looks around the room, but takes a seat at a table with two other guys. They all shake hands and say their hellos before returning their attention to the man in front.

  “I’m fairly sure that’s everyone for this evening.” He claps his hands again. “For the new members, I’m Gage, and I’m your speed-dating leader for tonight.”

  Speed dating?

  Umm…

  “The tables are set up through the curtain.” Gage motions with his hands to a curtain-covered doorway on the far side of the bar. “Rules are the same, guys stay, girls hop. You have five minutes at each table. First names only. No specifics as to where you live or work. There’s a list of questions to ask printed out on the table in case conversation proves to be a challenge. Fill out the questionnaire sheet at your last table and come back out here. We’ll announce any matches after and you’re more than welcome to find out more about one another at that time.” He waves his hands frantically in the air to get everyone moving once he’s done speaking.

  I stand, figuring this is my time to cut and run.

  “Um, Gage.” I touch his arm and he slowly rotates his head my way. “I think I’m in the wrong bar,” I say, ready to slide past him to the door.

  “Oh, sweetie, I knew you hadn’t registered, but we had a cancellation so why don’t you stay? Free of charge.” A gold cap emerges when he smiles. “There’s a connection in the air tonight, I feel it.”

  I scoff. “I’m not really looking for a connection.” From the corner of my eye I catch the man from Starbucks stand and he follows the crowd to the back. Why does a man like that need speed dating? “Can I ask you a question?” I lean closer and he does too, like he’s the paparazzi and I’m about to tell him where Rihanna and Drake are out clubbing tonight.

  “Anything.”

  “Is Jasper Banks here?”

  I have to be at the wrong bar. Although I have no idea what he looks like, I can’t imagine Jasper Banks would need to resort to speed dating.

  A full-watt smile emerges on Gage’s face and he nods. “He is. Do you know Jasper?”

  The caterpillars turn into butterflies in my stomach. Finally.

  “Could you point him out to me?” I ask and a devilish look gleams in his eyes.

  He shakes his head.

  “No?” I clarify, my own lips pressing into a straight line.

  “You’ll have to find out for yourself. Best way to do that will be to go in that room and take a seat at a table.” He walks away and exits the room behind the curtain.

  The bartender clears his throat and my gaze detours to him. “If you don’t find what you’re looking for in there, I’m free.”

  From the smug smile on his lips I’m guessing that he probably gets propositioned often and never goes home alone after one of these functions.

  “I’m good, but thanks.” I tuck my clutch under my arm, and my heels click on the floor while I head toward the curtain.

  * * *

  The lighting is dimmed back here. Black sofas line each wall, with small tables in front of them and chairs on the other side.

  “Women take a seat at one of the booths,” Gage instructs and I wonder why we have to be on the booth side.

  All the women get giddy like it’s picture time at prom while I sit down, cross my legs and lean back until this torture is over.

  Once I find Jasper, I’ll stalk him when he leaves and confront him then. I mean, surely blackmailing him that he does speed-dating will get him to invest.

  “Now, men sit in the chair closest to you,” Gage says and chairs slide out, men sit.

  Lucky me, I get the best-looking one.

  Kidding. Haven’t you realized? Luck is not on my side.

  I get the creepy older man with a pinkie ring. Do men still wear these? Then again, he could be Italian. I should play nice.

  I sit up in my seat, folding my hands together and resting them on the table.

  Gage walks over to a huge clock on the wall, presses a few buttons and then he screams, “Begin.”

  “Hi, I’m Bill.” He places his hand out and I shake it.

  “Lennon,” I answer before figuring out I should have used a fake name.

  “Is this your first time?” he asks. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “There are usually more people here, but with the holiday…”

  “Memorial Day?” I ask.

  “I’m looking to take someone to my house in Napa this weekend. Have you been?” He smiles brightly.

  At first I think creep—he’s inviting me on a weekend trip after one minute, from what the clock says—but then I think it’s sad really. He wants to share his life with someone and can’t find the right person. I can see if that’s something you want in your life and you can’t find it, it would be upsetting.

  “I have. It’s beautiful. I can’t imagine having a house there.”

  His eyes light up. “I have a winery. Small and serene.”

  “Do you bottle?” I ask. This fascinates me.

  “Only enough for myself and friends. If you ever make it up there, check out Ginger’s Winery.”

  “What a great name.”

  “I named it after my wife. She died five years ago.” His eyes zoom down on the table. He is lonely.

  My heart pricks. Here I am judging this man and he’s been through more than I might ever be. Food for thought, Lennon.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say and the buzzer goes off before he can say anything.

  He nods his head and I slide down the booth to the next guy. When I glance down the row of tables my eyes lock to a set of hazel ones that unglued me more than I care to admit last night. What I’m starting to notice as his humorous smile comes out to shine again, but this time he shoots me a wink that seriously has my engines purring down below. Who is this man?

  The buzzer rings again and I have no choice but to look in front of me to my speed-dater companion. He’s younger than the first guy, but looks way too strait-laced for me. He’s J Crew to a tee. Sweater vest under his jacket and although he’s got that swanky retro thing going for him, he opens his mouth and I think I just ran nails over a chalkboard.

  “I’m Bec,” he says. “Short for Beckett Humphrey III.”

  Rich boy and wants to stake his claim immediately.

  “Lennon,” I answer, shaking his hand. It’s soft and moisturized. No pinkie ring, but a nice wedding ring tan line.

  He catches me examining his hand and pipes up, “She divorced me two weeks after our honeymoon.”

  “When was your honeymoon?”

  “Last month,” he deadpans and I swear tears well up in his eyes.

  “And you’re here why?” Okay, so I probably should have taken the sarcastic tone out of my voice.

  He crosses his arms. His jacket even comes with reinforced elbows. What are people doing with their elbows that they need extra fabric as back-up there? “I’m trying to forget the bitch.”

  Man, this is a hot mess of a place.

  “Let me give you a hint. Head over to Sundowners. You need a hook-up, not a girlfriend. Play around there for a while and when you’re finished, come back here to find your one and only,” I offer and this information piques his interest. “Or there’s always Tinder.”

  “I’ve known her since I was in seventh grade. She was my first.” His whining mixed with screeching must be what a dog whistle sounds like to a dog.

  “Oh, Bec, go get yourself some experience. The only way you’re going to do that is if you fuck
a truckload of different girls. You’re young. At least you look young and now is the time to find out what you like.”

  His eyes widen and he’s like a dog where he’s all invested in what I’m saying right now.

  “What are you doing after this?” he asks and my eyes veer over to Hazel Eyes’.

  “I’m here on a different mission. Sorry.”

  “Oh,” he says. I reach over and pat his hand.

  Gage scrambles over, crouching down. “There’s no touching except for one handshake in the beginning.”

  I nod. “Okay.” I raise my hands in the air, but I’m thinking the conversation to my left is going stale because they’re staring at us.

  The buzzer rings. Thank God.

  “Good luck, Bec,” I say and slide.

  The song Slide to the right, slide to the left rings in my head and I giggle a little myself.

  “What’s so funny?” my third date asks and I wave him off.

  “Just a song in my head.”

  “Oh.” He puts his head down and again my vision veers, but his eyes are set on the woman in front of him. Hazel Eyes is still two people down from me and I’m anxious to hear what’s about to come out of his mouth.

  Two more guys and two heartbreaking tales of scorned men later, I’m right next to him. He’s my next date. I can practically feel my body buzzing being so close. He’s given this date his full attention whereas the prior two our eyes locked on occasion. The playful smile on his lips is constantly teasing me. I wonder what I have to do to make it not so playful.

  Instead of looking at him, I look to the woman across from him and next to me. She’s a blonde, big breasts and flirtatious personality. No touching, my ass. I’m about to call Gage over because she’s discreetly touched his arm no less than five times. Worse is the fact he hasn’t pulled away. He could easily move his arms under the table, but he’s like a statue, with an upturned smile the entire time. He likes her and for some reason a stab of the jealousy knife pierces my heart and it drops in the pit of my stomach.

  It’s then when the jealousy washes over me that I realize I’m worried about this man I know nothing about when Jasper is somewhere in this room.

  Priorities, Lennon. Priorities. My eyes search out again and I figure out the next five guys after Hazel Eyes are Jasper’s age and then after them it’s all white hair. So in the next half hour I should have a face with a name.

  Buzz.

  “Pleasure meeting you.” I nod like a Southern belle at the ball of a duke.

  Slide to my left and his hand is already out before I can situate myself.

  “Katniss.” He nods.

  “Peeta.”

  His hand is rougher than Bec’s but softer than Bill’s. No jewelry on his fingers, no tan lines that suggest he’s recently divorced. An expensive-looking watch that Tahlia would probably know the going rate for. The thing that makes that ache between my thighs deeper is the skull-and-crossbones cuff links. This man is not who I’ve typecast him as. Today there’s no vest under the jacket and he’s sans tie. Part of me wonders if it’s stuffed in his pocket and he came here right after work.

  “So, are you willing to give me your real name?” he asks, his voice a deep rich tone that makes me think of barrels of whiskey.

  “Lennon,” I say before I think it would have been fun to play a game where we don’t know each other’s real names. “You?”

  I ask because I’m not about to give him something for nothing.

  “Jasper.”

  No fucking way. Shit just got real.

  6

  The suave guy from Starbucks is Jasper Banks. The one male specimen on this entire planet who has the capacity to unnerve me.

  I situate myself in my seat, and his hazel eyes focus on my actions.

  “Is it hot in here?” I fan my face with my hand. It wasn’t hot a second ago, but suddenly I’m my grandma in the dead of winter standing in front of a fan to cool off.

  “A tad, maybe.” His lips quirk up, knowing exactly why I’m perspiring like a hooker in church. “So, Katniss?”

  I laugh and he leans back in his chair, his hand lying out, his manicured nails tapping down on the black table.

  “I was feeling extra feisty that night.”

  “Why?”

  “I feel feisty a lot.” I shrug, not willing to turn this man away by divulging I was with someone else.

  Seriously, Lennon, get it together. Who cares?

  Why do I care if he thinks I’m a slut? It might actually help with my cause—you know, experience.

  The war inside of me continues to waver while he patiently waits for my real answer.

  “Someone just got me angry.”

  “Ex?” he asks, his voice holding a hint of gruffness.

  “I don’t have any exes.” The truth sneaks out.

  “Surely you’re not a virgin?” The light-hearted smile comes out to play once more.

  “Do I look like a virgin?” I waggle my eyebrows.

  There you go, girl, you’re on your way back.

  “If I thought you were a virgin, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “Why is that?” I arch my eyebrow and a low chuckle escapes his throat. Damn, I want my tongue down that throat and I want to swallow down his groan.

  “I don’t think I could do what I want to do to you with a virgin.” His tongue snakes out of his mouth and he wets both of his lips.

  My shaking hand moves toward the glass of water and I bring it up to my lips to quench the thirst burning for him. I shrug off my jacket before I sweat through Tahlia’s expensive suit. His eyes zero in on my arms. Shit.

  This man has knocked me off my game. I’m not supposed to be flirting with Jasper, but I definitely want to flirt with the guy I saw at Starbucks. It’s like a tug of war between the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other.

  “Why do you think I would have allowed you to do those things to me?” My voice should not sound this weak, I just gave myself a pep talk.

  A confident chuckle leaves his kissable lips. “Do you really think you wouldn’t?”

  Damn it, this man has got me all out of sorts. Where is the buzzer and why is not ringing? I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes to get in front of this guy and now I can’t wait to get away from him so I can collect myself.

  “Well, I’m not like other women. I’m not one to lie there and wait for you to come.” Jesus, it’s like I can’t stop myself.

  “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.” His eyes tease promises of what he’d do to my body. I squirm in the seat, the vinyl doing nothing to dull the ache.

  “I doubt you could handle me.”

  He raises both his eyebrows and the buzzer goes off. I move to slide over, but he grips my hand and this time around I’m not tattle-telling to Gage because his touch is warm, comforting and domineering. Just what I crave.

  “I’d have you on your knees after one kiss,” he promises, his eyes widening in invitation.

  Losing all my power to speak, I dislodge my hand and slide to the next guy, who’s looking between me and Jasper since our eyes haven’t left each other’s.

  “Excuse me, it’s my turn,” the girl to take my place says in a bitter tone.

  Jasper winks and then focuses his attention to the next woman, whose finger instantly twirls her hair.

  The further I get away, the more I come together, that unnerving woman stranded at the table across from him. Five men later, and I only have to stare at the back of his head. Who does he think he is? You, I think to myself, but I shoo that thought from my mind because I am not like him. I am not expectant like he is. I don’t make people feel uncomfortable.

  Yes, you do. Whitney’s and Tahlia’s voices ring in unison in my head. How the hell did they get in there? Quickly, I realize that he’s the male version of me. Strike that, he’s better than me. His lines are panty-soaking, his purposeful touches like direct hits in Battleship. Well, he sank my battleship, because my entire outward s
hell of a character is cracking as a result.

  The idea of sleeping with him is at the forefront of my mind, but so is my business. I didn’t expect to share a connection with him—it’s never been quite like that with anyone else before. I guess I need to decide which I want more—Jasper in my bed, or Jasper in the boardroom?

  * * *

  An hour later, Gage walks in with a small piece of paper in his hand. I wonder if Jasper picked me, too? I only picked him because hello, I need to spend some more time with him so that I can talk to him about investing in my company. That’s what I tell myself anyway, because when I was writing his name down the only thing in my head was the way the material of his suit jacket hugged his biceps and the way his eyes sparkled when he flirted with me.

  “We only have one match this evening,” Gage starts. “Jasper and—” A woman on the other side of the room stands up immediately and begins sauntering toward Jasper. Did they discuss picking each other? Because she’s very expectant. “—Lennon.”

  The woman’s head whips over to me when I let out a little yelp of excitement.

  Relax, lady. From the stink-eye she’s giving me you’d think I just stole her boyfriend.

  Jasper’s eyes do that twinkling thing again as he stands up, ignoring the woman when he brushes past her. My mouth waters when I notice the way his broad shoulders fill out his suit jacket. God, I need to get my head on straight before I try to convince him that I’m a commodity he should be investing in.

  He makes his way over and holds his hand out to me once he’s standing in front of me.

  “Jasper, if you’d like to go to the back room,” Gage offers but Jasper shakes his head without removing his gaze from mine.

  “We’re heading out.” He tips his head, questioning if that’s okay.

  I hop down from the stool, grab my clutch and accept his hand.

  “Have a great night.” Gage winks as I walk by him. “Told you,” he whispers.

  We step out of the bar and into the night. The air still has a chill to it since summer hasn’t fully arrived in San Francisco. Jasper still has my hand in his as we walk in silence down the street.