What Love Looks Like Read online

  One of the many things I missed about living with roommates was that I now had complete freedom to throw self-control to the winds. When I lived with Erica, Stacey, and the other girls, I would restrain myself based solely on my fear of being judged for my inability to do things moderately. But living alone led to boredom, which meant my mind was left to its own devices. Something had to fill the time between one workday and the next. Luna didn’t judge me for any of my pleasure-seeking ways, so I indulged in whatever I pleased. But lately, I couldn’t shake an omnipresent fear that such continuous overindulgence might come back and bite me.

  3

  A week later I was in my office frantically fine-turning the details for a buyout lunch meeting at Ryan’s restaurant. Jenna had the day off, so Ryan would have to oversee the event personally. That meant there was zero room for error. Earlier that morning, I'd called the chef to check on inventory and discovered that we were short on meat. That meant that before the luncheon I had to speed out to the suburbs to borrow ten chicken breasts and ten petite filets from our Dublin location, just to make sure we had more than enough product for the roughly two-hundred-person event.

  By the time I got downtown, I was thoroughly flustered, but rushing from one task to another is all in a day’s work for any worthwhile event planner. I parked in the rear lot of the restaurant, since the front entrance was on a busy city street with no available parking spots. I buzzed the door to be let into the kitchen, and Ryan appeared, holding the door for me as I hurried inside. My hands were frozen because I’d forgotten my gloves at home that day, and my hair was damp from the soggy snowfall. I knew I looked a fright, but only Ryan was there, and I wasn’t worried about impressing him.

  “Morning, Ryan.” I rushed in past him. We were uncomfortably close as I squeezed through the rear entrance with a package of raw meat in hand.

  “Elle,” Ryan said, nodding.

  “Has anyone from EZware arrived yet?”

  “Yes, one gentleman arrived already. I think he stepped outside for a moment. I told him that you were running late.” Ryan raised his eyebrows at me as if it was his job to call me out on my tardiness. “I had them set everything up last night, so we should be good to go. Food’s all prepped, and we set for an extra twenty people just in case.”

  “You’re on the ball. Here’s your extra meat.” I handed him the raw chicken and steak.

  “Uh, thanks,” Ryan replied unenthusiastically.

  He headed for his office, and I followed. I hung my coat next to his as I always did and then quickly fixed my messy hair in front of the mirror that someone had hung in the office, probably Jenna. I made no effort to communicate with Ryan even though we were the only two people in an eight-by-ten-foot space. He looked immersed in his accounting work, so I didn’t want to distract him by making small talk. He looked frustrated as he gaped at three open spreadsheets on his desktop; I assumed that he too was inundated with reporting for corporate.

  I left his office silently and walked quickly through the kitchen, waving to the line cooks as I passed, and then hurried out into the main dining room. Maureen would be meeting me there within the hour. Scores of local business owners were going to be in attendance, so we decided to network and personally greet everyone who came through our doors. We were always looking to drum up extra business. As much as I complained about my company, I had to credit them for making me forever conscious of new business opportunities.

  At the front entrance, I glanced down at the restaurant’s reservation book to see if any of my regular customers would be in that evening. As I read each name and tried to pair it with a face, I felt a gust of wind blow through the revolving door. I hadn’t realized that it was so bone-chillingly cold outside. I looked up, and instantly my eyes met an exceptionally good-looking man wearing a gray fitted sport coat and matching slim gray trousers. He was the opposite of the balding, beer-bellied salesman I’d expected. His suit was tailored flawlessly to his slender form. He was young, maybe my age or slightly older, with a full head of hair that cascaded into golden waves around his tanned face. His bone structure was sculpted as though Michelangelo had personally chiseled his features. Above his high cheekbones were vibrant green eyes with a cutting gaze. He was average in height, maybe two or three inches taller than I was, and he exuded coolness before he even uttered a word.

  The scent of his cologne wafted in my direction with the wind that accompanied him in. And with that same blast of air, I detected the subtle scent of cigarettes. The smell didn’t bother me, though; it fit his type. I felt goose bumps form all over my body even before he spoke. He carried a stylish-looking black briefcase. Everything about him was intriguing. He extended a hand to me, but dizzy from his energy, I could barely pay attention to his words.

  “Jay Conrad,” he said.

  “I’m Elle Coppola,” I willed the flush in my cheeks to dissipate. “Are you hosting the meeting today?”

  “Yes, I am.” He nodded.

  “Well, welcome,” I said overenthusiastically. “Is this your first time in Columbus? Did you have to travel far? Can I take your coat?” I was already kicking myself for asking him so many questions. I had always made it my practice not to seem overly interested in men, but he had completely thrown off my equilibrium.

  “No, actually I’ve been here before. I used to visit friends at Ohio State back in college.” He was probably unsure which of my questions to answer first.

  “Oh? And where did you go to school? When did you graduate?” Stop. Asking. Questions, I told myself. I couldn’t help it. I wanted—no, I needed—to know everything about Jay Conrad.

  “I went to a small Catholic college in Pennsylvania called Franciscan University. Have you heard of it?”

  “Of course,” I said, lying. What a pointless thing to lie about. I was bombing, and to top off my humiliation, I couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. I’d never before had such a profound longing to maintain eye contact with someone. My logic told me to look away, but he didn’t, so I didn’t either.

  “I live in New York now,” he said.

  “I haven’t been to New York in years.”

  “It’s the best—you’ve got to get back. And soon.” Was that an invitation? My mind wandered to all of the things I could do with him (or to him) for a few days in New York City.

  “Can I take your luggage?” I asked, snapping back to the present.

  “Yeah, is there somewhere you can store it for me?”

  “Sure, I’ll put it behind the bar.” I took his suitcase. I spotted a pack of Parliament Lights tucked into the side pocket. “We’re closed to the public for lunch, so it’ll be safe there. We only open for private events during the day.”

  “So I take it you’re the event planner?”

  “Yes, I am, here and a few other locations as well.”

  “It’s nice,” he said, looking around approvingly.

  “Well, coming from a New Yorker, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Jay smiled, and I felt my heart rate increase from my state of hyperarousal.

  I led him to the private room that he’d be using for his presentation and went over a few last-minute details about the meeting as calmly as I could. All the while I stared at him for far too long and asked him entirely too many personal questions. I had to get away from him to regain some semblance of sanity. I was drawn to Jay Conrad, but apart from his appearance, what was pulling me in? Something in his manner held me in his grasp, drawing in my energy like a vortex. I’d known loads of handsome men before and was easily able to turn the other cheek. But with Jay Conrad, a force greater than me was in control. In the way that the moon couldn’t help but orbit the Earth, I couldn’t help but be drawn to Jay. It wasn’t just his physical perfection; it was his entire air. It was a gravitational pull.

  I watched for a moment as he silently prepared his meeting notes and then finally summoned the strength to excuse myself. I headed back into the kitchen, careful not to tumble in my cobalt Do
nald J. Pliner pumps, which I was thrilled to have worn since they elongated my legs quite nicely. What a relief that I’d changed out of my Hunter rain boots in the car.

  I heard the rear entrance buzzer—saved by the bell. I beat Ryan to the back door and opened it. In walked Maureen, prompt as usual.

  “Hey honey, how’s it going?” she asked cheerfully, her enormous mommy purse in tow.

  “I think I’m in love with the EZware rep.”

  “Guy or girl?”

  “What?” I asked. “A guy!”

  “Where is he? I want to see him.”

  I walked her to the kitchen and pointed him out to her from over the hot line. Jay paced back and forth in front of the large projection screen that we’d set up for him, shuffling his papers, obviously rehearsing for his presentation.

  “Wow, he is good-looking.” Maureen agreed.

  “He’s hot. But it’s more than that.”

  “Did you introduce yourself?”

  “Yeah, we talked a little. In fact, I couldn’t stop talking. I was totally into it.”

  “Totally into what?” Ryan asked, appearing behind us.

  “Oh I’m totally into the way you set up the tables. Good job, Ryan.” I patted him on the arm as he went through the swinging door into the dining room. Maureen suppressed laughter, and Ryan looked back at me, obviously confused or maybe a bit embarrassed; as usual, he was impossible to read.

  Desperately longing to talk with Jay once more, I dragged Maureen by the arm toward the podium as he continued reviewing for his meeting. I felt instantly invigorated just by being nearer to him. He was my Edward Cullen, my Christian Grey. The very thought of him stupefied me. I didn’t know if he could tell how smitten I was, but there was little chance that I’d be able to hide such a powerful attraction. “Jay, this is my partner Maureen.”

  “Oh, hey Maureen, nice to meet you,” Jay said sweetly, taking Maureen’s hand and shaking it purposefully. Okay, the guy had manners. Check. He was gorgeous. Check. What more could a girl ask for?

  “Nice to meet you too. Everything look okay in here for you, Jay?” Maureen asked, smiling. I could tell immediately that she was impaired by his charm.

  “Everything’s perfect—Elle’s been taking good care of me,” he said, and I blushed.

  Maureen beamed at him. “We’ll greet your guests for you and then escort them to their seats.” Thankfully, she was taking the reins since I was mentally incapacitated. “We don’t have a hostess on staff during the day, but Elle and I are glad to help in any way you need. Any way at all.” I discreetly pinched her arm to reprimand her for the sexual innuendo.

  “That’ll be great, thank you,” Jay said.

  I stumbled back into the kitchen, still disoriented, and Maureen followed. I poured us each a cup of coffee.

  “He’s hot,” I said again once we were alone.

  “So is this coffee.” Maureen spit it out back into her cup.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy.”

  “You just met him!”

  “I don’t care. I’m so drawn to him.”

  “There is something kind of magnetic about him. I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s his hair. He looks like a Greek god. You should see what he’s doing tonight. You live practically right next door to this place, so you could leave the office early and meet him for a drink!”

  “Maureen, I would never ask a guy out. Ever.”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s not how it’s supposed to happen.”

  “I asked out my husband when we first met.”

  “Well that’s one exception in a million,” I said, not wanting to insult her. “Besides, you’re a lot more outgoing than I am. If I tried to ask him out, I’d crash and burn. Trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty.”

  “You have to figure out a way to give him your phone number, then. How often do you feel this way about guys you meet?”

  “Uh, never.”

  “Exactly.”

  I saw her point. I was perpetually waiting for someone to come and sweep me off my feet, but never once had I initiated a relationship or asked someone out on a date. But I couldn’t figure out how to gather enough nerve to ask out someone as gorgeous as Jay.

  “If he wants my number, he can ask for it.” I was both doubting my own appeal and maintaining the conviction that I'd inherited from my mother and grandmother: women shouldn’t ask men out on dates, even if they were nearing thirty—no, wait—especially if they were nearing thirty.

  “That’s insane. You need to take responsibility for your happiness. Go out and get what you want because it isn't just going to come to you, honey.”

  “What if he laughs in my face? He’s, like, a ten, Mo. He probably sleeps with models.”

  “You seem to be forgetting that you too were blessed with unusually good looks,” she said. It was sweet of her to say it, but it was also the obligatory response of any encouraging wing woman. “Life’s too short to just let opportunities pass you by. I say, seize the day.”

  I sighed and considered Maureen’s advice. She was right. As the ever-quotable Eminem once said, you only get one shot. And what was the harm in asking him out? If he blew me off, it wasn’t as if I ever had to see him again.

  “Okay, you’re right. I’ll give him my card,” I said.

  “Your card only has the office number on it.”

  “I’ll write my cell number down on the back. Geez.”

  “Atta girl!”

  Soon after all of the guests were seated, Maureen headed back to the office. The final head count was two hundred and seventeen people, without a doubt the largest lunch party in the history of East Coast Prime Downtown. Ryan and his servers executed the salad course about fifteen minutes into Jay’s presentation. I stuck around for a few more minutes at the front entrance for any stragglers who showed up late. Latecomers aside, I had to figure out exactly how to pass off my unsolicited business card to Jay without looking too pushy.

  “So how do I sound up there?” Jay asked, surprising me at the hostess desk. He was apparently on his first intermission. He must have known he sounded good, and that he looked good. But I wouldn’t tell him that, at least not explicitly.

  “Very informative,” I said, smiling.

  “Thanks. So, your job seems cool.”

  “It’s not as exciting as it looks. I spend a lot of time in my office.”

  “I hear that.”

  “So where are you staying?”

  “The Hyatt Regency right down the street.”

  “Nice hotel.”

  “It’s not bad. Is your office here?” he asked.

  “No, we’ve got a sales office about ten minutes away. That’s my home base. I’m actually headed back there any minute. But I want to make sure that everything goes perfectly for you.”

  “Everything’s been great so far.” His hands gripped the host stand so forecefully that his knuckles turned white, and I couldn’t help but picture those hands gripping me by the hips. His mannerisms had an air of authority and self-assurance.

  “Well, if you need anything at all, here’s my card.” I cleared my throat and simultaneously jotted down my cell number on the back, as I promised Maureen I would. “You can reach me directly at this number”—I pointed to the back of my card—“for the rest of the afternoon if any issues arise. Not that they should—I mean, Ryan’s fantastic. But just in case. I mean, they’ll take great care of you, but you know, as a backup—” I chastised myself for my awkwardness.

  “Great, thank you.” He examined the card front and back. Our eyes met briefly, and again I trembled from the effect of his gaze. He grinned slightly, brushed his golden hair off his forehead, and then adjusted his Windsor-knotted tie. “It was really great meeting you, Elle.” He lingered for a moment and bit his lower lip, our gaze still intact.

  “You too,” I said. He nodded, shook my hand once more, and returned to his podium.
/>   Back in the manager’s office, I gathered my coat and purse and thanked Ryan for his flawless implementation of my event. He managed a half smile and a nod, and I made my way out the back door and into the snow. I plopped into the front seat of my car and made the trip back to my office in silence. There was too much to consider, and I didn’t want music to drown out the lingering vision that I had of Jay. True, I knew nothing about him. I didn’t know his age, his relationship status, or anything about his background or personality. But I knew for certain that I liked what I saw, and that I desperately wanted to see him again. And if I did, I wouldn’t let him get away. But the ball was in his court.

  4

  A week after the luncheon, I resigned myself to Jay Conrad's indifference. Maureen was nearly as disappointed as I was when he didn’t call during the remainder of his trip, but we both came to terms with it and carried on with our work-consumed lives. I was having a difficult time escaping my professional life at all. With no man and a bunch of married girlfriends, work had become not only my livelihood, but also the sole source of my social life too.

  “I don’t know how you work with her in the office every day and manage not to cuss Penny out,” Jenna said. We were browsing through Rowe, a chic, expensive boutique on High Street. I looked at a display of folded pashminas and listened to Jenna complain about Penny’s latest offenses. “She literally walked right past me to say hi to Ryan when she walked in yesterday. It was like I didn’t exist. She hates women. I don’t understand it. I know Ryan’s hot, but Jesus, would a hello to little old me kill the woman?”