What Love Looks Like Read Online Free PDF Page B

was my Edward Cullen, my Christian Grey. The very
thought of him stupefied me. I didn’t know if he could tell how smitten I was,
but there was little chance that I’d be able to hide such a powerful
attraction. “Jay, this is my partner Maureen.”
    “Oh, hey Maureen,
nice to meet you,” Jay said sweetly, taking Maureen’s hand and shaking it
purposefully. Okay, the guy had manners. Check. He was gorgeous. Check. What
more could a girl ask for?
    “Nice to meet you
too. Everything look okay in here for you, Jay?” Maureen asked, smiling. I
could tell immediately that she was impaired by his charm.
    “Everything’s
perfect—Elle’s been taking good care of me,” he said, and I blushed.
    Maureen beamed at
him. “We’ll greet your guests for you and then escort them to their seats.”
Thankfully, she was taking the reins since I was mentally incapacitated. “We
don’t have a hostess on staff during the day, but Elle and I are glad to help
in any way you need. Any way at all.” I discreetly pinched her arm to
reprimand her for the sexual innuendo.
    “That’ll be great,
thank you,” Jay said.
             I
stumbled back into the kitchen, still disoriented, and Maureen followed. I
poured us each a cup of coffee.
             “He’s hot ,” I said again once we were
alone.
             “So
is this coffee.” Maureen spit it out back into her cup.
             “I
don’t know what’s gotten into me. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy.”
    “You just met him!”
             “I
don’t care. I’m so drawn to him.”
    “There is something
kind of magnetic about him. I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s his
hair. He looks like a Greek god. You should see what he’s doing tonight. You
live practically right next door to this place, so you could leave the office
early and meet him for a drink!”
    “Maureen, I would never ask a guy out. Ever.”
             “Why
not?”
             “That’s
not how it’s supposed to happen.”
             “I
asked out my husband when we first met.”
             “Well
that’s one exception in a million,” I said, not wanting to insult her.
“Besides, you’re a lot more outgoing than I am. If I tried to ask him out, I’d
crash and burn. Trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty.”
    “You have to figure
out a way to give him your phone number, then. How often do you feel this way
about guys you meet?”     
    “Uh, never.”
    “Exactly.”  
             I
saw her point. I was perpetually waiting for someone to come and sweep me off
my feet, but never once had I initiated a relationship or asked someone out on
a date. But I couldn’t figure out how to gather enough nerve to ask out someone
as gorgeous as Jay.
             “If
he wants my number, he can ask for it.” I was both doubting my own appeal and
maintaining the conviction that I'd inherited from my mother and grandmother:
women shouldn’t ask men out on dates, even if they were nearing
thirty—no, wait— especially if they were nearing thirty.
    “That’s insane. You
need to take responsibility for your happiness. Go out and get what you want
because it isn't just going to come to you, honey.”
             “What
if he laughs in my face? He’s, like, a ten, Mo. He probably sleeps with
models.”
    “You seem to be
forgetting that you too were blessed with unusually good looks,” she said. It
was sweet of her to say it, but it was also the obligatory response of any
encouraging wing woman. “Life’s too short to just let opportunities pass you
by. I say, seize the day.”
    I sighed and
considered Maureen’s advice. She was right. As the ever-quotable Eminem once
said, you only get one shot. And what was the harm in asking him out? If he
blew me off, it wasn’t as if I ever had to see him again.
    “Okay, you’re right.
I’ll give him my card,” I said.
             “Your
card only has