Lexie shook her head. “Haven’t had time. What’s up?”
“The Daily Post has a new feature called the Bachelor Blog. It’s a column that highlights one of the city’s bachelors and follows his exploits, hoping that by singling him out, the women will come out of the woodwork and he’ll meet Ms. Right. Hang on. Let me find the blog to show you.”
Lexie wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like The Bachelor from TV.” Lexie had no patience for television shows where women lined up to compete to find a man.
Reality itself was no picnic, as she already knew firsthand. In her one and only serious relationship, she had let herself believe that a man could accept and even share her wanderlust—despite all the clues telling her otherwise.
Since Drew was a freelance journalist, it seemed a no-brainer that he’d want to see the world and use his experience as fodder for his work. But she’d had to twist his arm to get him to join her on her trips abroad.
She’d stupidly ignored the complaints about her vagabond lifestyle and convinced herself they were the perfect duo, until he’d reconnected with a woman he’d lost track of over the years. Just a friend, he’d said. Except he’d promptly dumped Lexie for that “friend,” leaving her wiser when it came to men. In hindsight, Drew had been overly critical of more than just her travels, but she’d chosen to overlook that fact since almost everyone in her life criticized her for the same thing.
According to Lexie’s disappointed parents, Drew was now living the suburban dream life they wanted for her. A dream she’d never shared. But Caroline and Grant Davis didn’t understand—never would—and continued to remind her of that fact each time she saw them. Just one of the many reasons Lexie kept visits with her folks to a bare minimum when she was in town. Even though they lived a short half hour outside the city.
As for Drew, Lexie considered him a lesson well learned. Since then, she’d subscribed to a new philosophy: Love ’em and enjoy ’em until it was time to move on.
“Aha! Found it.” Claudia rotated her laptop screen to face Lexie, who was happy to focus on something other than her pathetic past.
“This is today’s Bachelor Blog. Your ring keeper is the new bachelor. And that explains why it’s so difficult to get in touch with him,” she said.
Lexie stared at a close-up photo of Sam Cooper, newspaper reporter and guardian of the ring. He was even more striking in the picture than he’d been on TV. His eyes were bluer and his hair was thick and straight, long enough for a woman’s fingers to run through, but short enough to maintain his masculinity.
Claudia let out a slow whistle. “He is hot. But I see you’ve already noticed that,” she said, grinning.
Lexie willed herself not to blush at being caught and scanned the article instead. “So women are just throwing themselves at him?” She tried to sound shocked, as if she couldn’t imagine such a thing.
But she could. She just wouldn’t admit as much out loud, nor would she be one of those desperate females. She was interested in a business transaction with the man, nothing more.
Claudia folded her arms across her chest. “If you want to corner this Sam Cooper, I suggest the back-door method. You may have to wait a while, but my bet is he’ll exit eventually.”
Lexie narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure?” Because she couldn’t imagine hanging out in an alley for hours based on hope alone.
“Do you doubt me?”
Claudia had street smarts and a knack for accomplishing any job she set her mind to, from complicated coding to even more complicated men.
Lexie nodded, conceding the point. “You’re the master. Back door it is.”
COOP LUGGED an enormous box down the elevator to the basement and out the back door of the newspaper offices to a huge blue Dumpster. He’d worked past dinnertime and the alley was shrouded in shadows as he dropped the box to the ground. The garbage bin was so high he couldn’t lift the box and toss it in, so he had to empty the contents by the handful. Reaching down, he grabbed a double handful of perfume-scented letters from women extolling their virtues to the most recently crowned Bachelor in the ridiculously titled Bachelor Blog and dumped them into the trash.
To add insult to injury, the blog was published by his own damn newspaper! Upon discovering that he was the anonymous writer’s newest victim, Coop had pleaded with the publisher of the paper to hold the presses. But nobody, not even their top crime beat reporter, could prevent the moneymaking machine that was the Bachelor Blog.
This was either retribution for something he’d done in a former life or proof of the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished. Either way, it was humiliating.
He’d had to instruct Chris Markov, the security guard in his building, to turn away any female without an appointment; he could no longer walk to work, as a few intrepid women had figured out where he lived and camped out on the doorstep like paparazzi hounding Britney Spears; and in this beautiful midsummer weather, he’d been forced to hire a cabbie to pick him up out back and drive him home. Which reminded him: he hoped Charlie was waiting at the corner when he finished here.
Coop tossed the last of the letters away. Bunches of flowers and boxes of candy came next. The wrapped stuff he’d sent over to local hospitals. If women were crazy enough to send him gifts, thinking he’d be interested in a desperate stranger, he wasn’t about to taste-test anything they’d sent over unwrapped. His mother, may she rest in peace, had taught him well.
As he reached into the box for the last of the contents, his hand came into contact with soft cotton. He pulled the item out and, as he’d done when he’d opened the original packaging, Coop stared in disbelief at the ladies’ thong underwear. At least a tag dangled off the back. This particular gift, he’d been too freaked out to worry about donating and had added to the trash immediately.
“Those are kind of cute. Maybe I could check the size before you throw them away?”
Coop froze at the sound of an unfamiliar female voice.
“I’m kidding. Can you get rid of those things before I introduce myself? The whole notion of Bachelor Blog and desperate, scheming women is giving me hives.”
Coop caught the hint of amusement in the voice.
He tossed the panties back in the box and heaved his lightened load into the trash before turning to the woman who had intruded on his mission. She didn’t look like any of the blond or brunette bomb-shells who’d included photos in their letters—the few he’d peeked at before a naked one taught him his lesson.