What Love Looks Like Read Online Free PDF Page A

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