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For the second time within moments, I’m speechless. “I’m sorry, I haven’t received any messages. I’m calling from the Development Office at Boston University. We are holding a mixer in two weeks—”

“Sorry to interrupt, Dani. This is Miles. We met at The Riptide.”

And right there, my stomach drops out and I’m frozen. Like Anna frozen. But unlike her, true love is not going to help me out of this situation.

Or maybe it could. I’m not sure of much anymore.

“Hey Miles. Sorry, I’ve been working most of the morning. You said you left a message?” And on cue, the small voicemail icon appears at the top of my screen.

“Yeah, I thought we could get together and talk about something.”

I glance back at the screen. Cold calling people on the list isn’t helping. Maybe meeting in person would.

“Sure,” I say, “I’m free this afternoon or evening or most afternoons next week.” Ugh. That sounded way too available, desperate even. I don’t need him thinking I’m trying to wiggle my way into being his girlfriend. The guy is hot, but even a daydream of it is laughable. In twenty years, we’d tell our kids I’d thrown a large soda all over him the first time we met. Not going to happen.

And then the brakes go full force in my brain. Marriage isn’t in the cards for me. Guys just hang out with me until someone better comes along.

“This afternoon works. Where should we meet?” His voice is deep and reminds me of melted chocolate.

“Uh, how about Boston Common?” There is a T-stop there and then I won’t have to walk far. Not like I’m overdoing it this morning anyway.

“Done. How about four?” Miles’s voice sounds like there is hope brimming there. Is he hoping I’ll pay for his dry cleaning? That’s definitely what this is. I’ll have to transfer some money from my bank to my credit card to afford it.

I nod and say, “Sounds good.”

After a long breath, I pull my computer closer to me. I might as well look him up so I can figure out how to convince him to come to the mixer. Maybe he’s one of the lower-level alumni Sharon mentioned.

After a few clicks, there’s at least twenty-seven million hits according to the webpage. Miles has his own Wikipedia page. How is that possible?

I click on a more reputable link, claiming Miles was at an event to support the local Children’s Hospital, but that’s the only line about him in the entire article. I need details.

Wikipedia it is.

Miles Clark, 28. Heir to the Clark Medical Group empire.

Okay, I vaguely remember Amber saying something about that.

A link just a bit lower shows him as one of the youngest in the industry, and another says he’s one of the wealthiest men in town.

Great. This guy is like Boston royalty. What is a little more humiliation, right?

Anger burns through me. The guy wants me to foot the bill for his suit and he probably makes my yearly salary in a week.

I sigh, remembering that I’m the one who offered to pay for it.

And meeting him in person will hopefully help me know what to say to get him to the mixer. Because I doubt there’s anyone higher on the alumni success list than Miles Clark.

CHAPTER6

Miles

I’m pacing back and forth in the Common. There are so many thoughts running through my brain, and I’ve almost left at least five times.

When did my life resort to fake dating?

My mind brings up a photo of my mother. I know she means well, but she attacks my relationships like she does anything else in her life, personal or business—like a bulldog. As though tomorrow will end and the chance will have passed.

It makes me miss Dad even more. He was good for Anita Clark, helping her navigate society with a little more tact.