Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,4
not an ax murderer or something, and then come and rescue me if things go bad.”
Which they would. Because they usually did. Not bad in a weird way, just bad in a hideously awkward “I can’t think of anything to say to you” way. Talking to complete strangers had never been something she’d enjoyed. Face to face, at least. Online was entirely different.
“Be your wing-woman?” Marisa asked.
“Yeah. What do you think?” If she were completely honest with herself, having the moral support would be good. God knew she needed it.
Marisa made a soft humming sound, as if weighing the scenario. “You do know I’ve been trying to be your wing-woman ever since you and Greg broke up.”
“Er…have you?”
“Uh-huh. And don’t pretend you don’t know that.”
Christie could feel herself blushing. Yeah, okay, so she may have been avoiding Marisa’s setups. But that had nothing to do with Greg. Less than nothing. Yes, he’d cheated on her with a blonde go-getter who worked in an ad agency. Yes, it had hurt. But she was over it. In fact, she was glad the loser had ditched her. Because when it got to the point where your family seemed to like your boyfriend more than they liked you, then clearly it was time to be single.
Christie took a steadying sip of her wine. “Is that a yes then?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course it’s a yes.”
Five minutes later, a plan in place, Christie was in the process of mentally girding her loins in preparation for the date-finding when her phone rang again.
Reflexively she answered it. Probably Marisa with a whole raft of date wardrobe suggestions.
“Christie?”
A small, hard stone settled in the middle of her chest. Oh joy. She did love talking to her mother. Not.
“Mum. This is a surprise.” She hadn’t spoken to Helene St. John for at least a couple of months. Not since the last call about how Andrew, her brother, had made partner and what a wonderful son he was and how she was so proud. She hadn’t asked Christie a single question about how she was doing. Not one.
“Oh darling,” her mother said, her warm endearments as fake as her eyelashes, “don’t be like that. Not when I have such wonderful news.”
Hating herself for the need that opened up inside her every time she heard her mother’s voice, Christie bit down hard on her lip. “What is it? I’m kind of busy.”
“Not playing one of those silly computer games again?” Her mother gave a musical laugh. “Aren’t you a bit old for those?”
A sharp, metallic taste filled Christie’s mouth. “They’re not silly.” Same old broken record.
“Yes, well. You know my thoughts on the subject. Anyway, that’s not what I called about. Andrew and Emily have just gotten engaged!”
“How lovely,” Christie said in a mechanical voice. So her gorgeous, highly successful brother had just got engaged to the beautiful daughter of one of Auckland’s richest families. Her mother must be over the moon that at least one of her children was doing well.
“Try to sound excited, darling,” Helene chided. “In a couple of weeks we’re going to be throwing the most fabulous party for them and Andrew will be heartbroken if you don’t come.”
Andrew wouldn’t be heartbroken. A few years older than she was, he tended to view her with either mild scorn or complete indifference. Like her father. Both of them were too involved in their careers to pay much more than fleeting attention to her.
Not that she cared. She’d gotten over trying to fit into her family years ago. She had a good job, a nice apartment—at least when she bothered to tidy it—and a whole lot of cool friends. She didn’t need them.
“Thanks, Mum, but I’ve got a…” She tried to think of a decent enough excuse that wouldn’t send her mother into one of her usual pouting fits. “A work deadline. I really can’t miss it.”
There was a pause. “Oh, Christie.” Her mother sounded wounded. “Surely work isn’t that important? Please come. I haven’t seen you for months. You know I miss you.”
Christie’s hand tightened on her handset. A lie, her brain knew it. Her experience backed it up. Helene didn’t miss her. She’d only said that so Christie would do as she was told. So Helene could show off her “perfect” family, prove what a fantastic mother she was.
Oh yes, Christie’s brain knew those things. But her heart didn’t. Her heart refused to believe it. Her heart was a doormat that wanted Helene to be a