Alex Reid (Rich & Single #1) Read Free

in be? However, if you were wealthy you were required to hire someone else to furnish it or look like an idiot when you didn’t have the latest Muscle Mania 5000 or whatever it was they were peddling on TV these days. Not to mention the whole problem of a personal trainer, and-
    “Alex!”
    He shook himself out of the thoughts, turning to look at Dahlia. There was a slight downturn to her lipstick-painted mouth, a crease forming between her dark brows.
    “I’ve called your name five times,” she said.
    “My apologies.” He flicked his gaze back to the road, but smiled at her. “It’s one of the occupational hazards of a date with a CEO. The work we do is never ending, and we’re always thinking about something that has to be done.” He could see, from the corner of his eye, the moment she decided to let it go, her expression smoothing out and a smile taking the place of the slight frown.
    “I suppose I should consider myself lucky to be getting any of your time at all then,” she said, not at all petulant.
    “I’m not sure how much luck has to do with it,” he answered. “I couldn’t let such an attractive woman get away without at least asking her to dinner. So here we are.”
    There it was again, that charming little blush. He liked it a little more than he should, when he had no intention of asking her out on a second date. Who knew, though? Maybe it would change his mind. Stranger things had been known to happen.
    They pulled into the drive of the restaurant, and the valet stepped up as they parked. Alex got out and went around to aid Dahlia in stepping from the car, then tossed his keys to a uniformed young man not much younger than he was. He didn’t feel anywhere near as young as the valet looked. But then, he’d done more in twenty-seven years than some people accomplished in seventy. Maybe it was the weight of the company on his shoulders that made him feel so much older than he was these days. Or maybe it was just having more money in the bank than most people saw in a lifetime. Both of them seemed, at times, to be equally heavy privileges.
    “I’ve been trying to get into this restaurant for weeks,” Dahlia sighed suddenly beside him, her head tipped back so she could look up at the lit sign for La Petit Table, one of the most expensive—and most exclusive—places in the city. “That just isn’t fair.”
    “There are connections you make when you have money that even journalists can’t manage,” Alex said. He turned his head to smile at her. “Lucky for you, it seems you have one of those connections.”
    Her flattered laughter was answer enough.
    Inside, the black-coated waiter led to them to their seats, and when the wine had been brought and poured and they were sipping from their glasses, Dahlia smiled across the table at him.
    “So,” she said. “Tell me something that I didn’t learn about you in the interview.”
    “Off the record?” Alex teased.
    She grinned, lifting both shoulders in a shrug. “Come on now, you don’t really think that I’m going to go spilling all your secrets on the seven o’clock news, do you?”
    He shook his head at her. “Oh no, Dahlia. I’m afraid any secrets I tell you are going to have to be explicitly off the record, or you’ll have to settle for nothing.”
    The corners of her mouth turned down, her eyebrows drawing inward, and she gave him a wide-eyed pleading look that didn’t quite disguise the playful sparkle under the expression. It suited her face well.
    “Fine,” he said, sighing. “If you really want to know something that no one else does, you might be surprised to find out that I am an avid collector of porcelain monkey statues.”
    Her eyebrows shot upward, and she gave him an entirely disbelieving look. “Porcelain monkey statues,” she repeated.
    Alex nodded gravely. “Yes, and I was once reprimanded by a teacher for being too amazing. It just wasn’t fair to all the other children.”
    Dahlia laughed. “Beating me