One Fifth Avenue - Candace Bushnell [124]
She took away her hands and stared at him intently, then, remembering the book, picked it up. “I want to read it. I really do. But I’m upset about Philip.”
“Oh,” James said. For a moment, he’d forgotten all about Philip.
“He’s just so mean.”
“He is?”
She nodded. “Ever since he asked me to move in with him. He keeps criticizing everything I do.” She readjusted herself on the couch. “Like the other day. I was doing a salt scrub in the bathroom, and some of the salt got on the floor. And then I had to do something right away—like go to the drugstore—and Philip came home and slipped on the salt. So when I came back, he started yelling at me about being messy.”
James moved closer to her on the couch. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said. “Men are like that. It’s an adjustment period.”
“Really?” she asked, looking at him curiously.
“Sure,” he said, bobbing his head. “It always takes men awhile to get used to things.”
“And that’s especially true of Philip,” she said. “My mother warned me. When men get older, they get set in their ways, and you just have to work around them.”
“There you go,” James said, wondering how old she thought he was.
“But it’s hard for me,” she continued. “Because I’m the one taking all the risks. I had to give up my apartment. And if things don’t work out, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“I’m sure Philip loves you,” James said, wishing that Oakland did not and that he could take his place. But that wasn’t possible unless Mindy decided to get rid of him as well.
“Do you really think so?” she asked eagerly. “Did he tell you that?”
“No…” James said. “But why wouldn’t he?” he added quickly. “You’re so”—he hesitated—“beautiful.”
“Do you really think so?” she asked, as if she were insecure about her looks.
She’s sweet, James thought. She really doesn’t know how gorgeous she is.
“I wish Philip would tell me that,” she said.
“He doesn’t?”
She shook her head sadly. “He never tells me I’m beautiful. And he never says ‘I love you.’ Unless I force him.”
“All men are like that,” James said wisely. “I never tell my wife I love her, either.”
“But you’re married,” Lola protested. “She knows you love her.”
“It’s complicated,” James said, sitting back on the couch and crossing one leg over the other. “It’s always complicated between men and women.”
“But the other night,” Lola began. “You and your wife—you seem so happy together.”
“We have our moments,” James said, although at that moment, he couldn’t remember any. He recrossed his legs, hoping she couldn’t see his hard-on.
“Well,” she said, jumping up, “I’ve got to meet Philip.”
James stood reluctantly. Was the visit over so soon? And just when he thought he was making progress.
“Thank you for bringing me your book,” she said. “I’ll start reading it this afternoon. And I’ll let you know what I think.”
“Great,” James said, thrilled that she wanted to see him again.
At the door, he attempted to kiss her on the cheek. It was an awkward moment, and she turned her head away, so his kiss landed somewhere in her hair. Overcome by the sensation of her hair on his face, he took a step backward, tripping on the corner of the rug.
“Are you okay?” she asked, grabbing his arm.
He adjusted his glasses. “I’m fine.” He smiled.
“See you soon.” She waved and closed the door, then turned back into the apartment. It was cute the way James Gooch was so obviously interested in her. Naturally, she didn’t return his feelings, but James was the kind of man who might do anything she wanted. And he was a bestselling author. He might come in very handy in the future.
Meanwhile, James stood waiting for the elevator, feeling his descending hard-on poke against his pants. Philip Oakland was a fool, he thought fiercely, thinking of Lola’s breasts. Poor kid, she probably had no idea what she was getting into.
On the floor above, Annalisa Rice placed a large red stamp on the corner of an envelope and passed it to