Walking over to the grill, I hold the plate as Gabriel takes chicken off the metal racks.

“Asher is…” I look for the words. “He’s…” Exotic, mesmerizing, Apollo-esque… “He’s… okay-looking, I guess.”

Gwen doesn’t even look up from the magazine. “Oh, honey, this man is what fantasies are made of.” I think I see a little drool seeping from her mouth.

I walk the plate of chicken to the table, and as I pass behind Gwen, I catch a glimpse of the two-page spread of Alexander Asher. I stop in my tracks.

He looks good. Really good. Who would expect him not to?

On the left is a photo of him in his office. From the window, you can see all of Manhattan with a spectacular view of the city. He’s standing in front of the glass, wearing a black pinstripe suit with a crisp shirt and black tie. I’ve seen this look on him before. It must have been taken the day I trapped him in the elevator.

He’s standing with one hand in his pocket and the other on his lapel. He looks commanding, pensive, and smoldering. It’s the exact Asher I thought I knew at the beginning of the summer. Now I know so many more sides. The sad Asher who lost his mother, the grandson who lives his life to win over his grandfather’s attention, the man who was once in love with a girl who wanted him for all the wrong reasons, the giver of music, the teacher, the smartass, and even the nice Asher. There are so many sides to him you can’t see beyond this picture.

My favorite is the messy eater. I’ve had four other meetings with Asher since our first official one in my office. All have been in his office and all have been over takeout. The man wasn’t lying; he ruins a lot of ties. I only get an hour or so of his time and the shame is we spend so much time talking about everything other than the event, I leave without getting any work done.

The good news is I haven’t had a single dream about him in weeks.

“What does he have… yellow eyes?” Gwen asks.

“They’re a deep gold. Like the color of honey.” The words come out of my mouth before I realize it.

Gwen turns around and gives me an inquisitive look. “I didn’t think you would have noticed”

I back away from the magazine. “They’re hard not to notice, but they’re nothing compared to Gabriel’s.” I smile over at Gabe. Hopefully, he didn’t catch my comment about Asher’s eyes.

Gabriel is looking over at us indifferently.

“That’s right, Gabriel. You have the market cornered on beautiful eyes.” Gwen looks up from the magazine and gives me a wink. Nice save. “I’m especially grateful you passed them on to my grandson.”

Thank you, Mom.

With the spatula still in his hand, Gabriel saunters over to Gwen. He stops to look over her shoulder, appraising the man in the photo. He knows more about the Asher family than I do. Clearly, he knows what Asher looks like.

“He’s not too bad.” Gabriel walks back to the grill, shrugging his shoulders. “And Photoshop does a lot.”

“Are you jealous?” Gwen asks, swinging her body around to gauge Gabriel’s expression. She turns to me and says, “That’s good. Very good.”

Gabriel laughs off Gwen’s comment and returns to cooking. He knows he has nothing to worry about. Doesn’t he?

“Pay no mind to her. My mother loves drama,” I tease.

“Say what you will, but it’s good for a couple to be a little jealous.” Gwen looks up from the magazine. “You know, when your father was touring in the majors, I would hear all these stories of women throwing themselves at him. Was I jealous? You bet your ass I was.

“But instead of getting all worked up…” She continues. “I just made sure your father had something to remember me by before he left the house.”

“Like what?” As I ask the question, I look over at Gabriel, who has his head tilted to the side with his hands thrown up in the air as if asking me, What do you think she gave him?

Realization dawns on my face. “Gross!” I got it. “Seriously, Mom. Keep these comments to yourself.”

Gabriel laughs and plates the burgers on the buns for lunch.

Gwen reluctantly puts down the magazine and walks over to the table. “So what is on the agenda for this afternoon? When Jackson wakes up from his nap, I thought we could go to the mall. I need some new clothes and the one up in the sticks has the most hideous choices.” Gwen takes a seat across from me.

I load my plate with chicken and salad. I should pass on the burgers.

“Mom, your Macy’s has the same crap our Macy’s does.”

“Oh, rubbish! You have more department stores here and there’s even valet. Trust me, your mall is nicer.” Gwen takes a sip of the apple martini Gabriel prepared. “Oh, Gabriel, this is delicious.”

“That’s why you love me, Gwen.” Gabriel picks up his beer and the two of them cheers glasses.

“If you get sloshed, then there’s no shopping for you,” I say, condescendingly pointing my finger in her direction. “I hate the mall as it is. The last thing I need is a lush of a mother falling into the clothing racks.”

She waves me off. “Oh, hush! You’re so high-strung. When did you stop knowing how to have fun?” Gwen takes another sip.

Me? I’m a ton of fun! Aren’t I?

“You two have a great time at the mall. Besides, Kat needs to pick up something for the gala.” Gabriel takes a seat next to me, draping his arm around the back of my chair.

Shit! Ever since Malory told me I had to wear something formal, I’ve sort of been blocking it out. So not me. I can’t just wear any old thing. It may be a big production, but the concert is, indeed, a gala, and I’ll be representing Asher. I have to wear something spectacular.

I nod in agreement. “Let’s go to Bloomingdales.” Yes, they’ll have something there that will be perfect.

Gabriel whistles through his teeth. “Breaking out the big guns.”

Oh.

“No. I’m kidding.” He places his arm around my shoulder and kisses my hair. “You two have fun. You deserve it, baby. My working girl.” He can be so sweet sometimes. “Just don’t spend too much.”

And there it is.

Does the man realize he’s sending me shopping with Gwendolyn Grayson? The woman was born to shop.

Once at the mall, we valet in high fashion and saunter into Bloomingdales. Gwen is well ahead of me as I stroll Jackson through the racks of clothing. Gabriel wanted me to leave him home, but since being at work all week, I cherish as much time as I can get with my sweet angel on the weekends.

I find Gwen in the women’s section, looking at a table display of sweaters. She’s holding up a powder-blue crewneck sweater against her chest.

“Aren’t these gorgeous?”

“Mom, it’s the middle the summer. It’s a little warm for cashmere.”

“Honey, it’s never too warm for cashmere.” She admonishes. “I’m buying two!” she exclaims, picking up a blue and a green for herself and then grabbing another.

“Who’s the grey one for?”

“You, dear. You need a little luxury,” she says, tossing the grey piece of lux at me.

I spin Jackson’s stroller and meander through the racks.

Gwen stops at every rack, remarking on how gorgeous each outfit is, and “look at the cut on this,” and “isn’t this color just gorgeous?” When I said the woman was born to shop, I meant it. How she affords it all I’ll never understand. My dad had a lucrative career, but she shops like she’s a Rockefeller.

Grabbing one item after the next, Gwen takes her armful of clothes into the dressing room, and I take a seat on a bench, waiting for her to come out.

Gwen tries on a series of ensembles. If she tried on twenty, she didn’t try on enough. After forty minutes, Jackson gets antsy.

“Mom, I’m going to push Jackson around a little. He’s tired of sitting still.”

“Okay, dear,” she calls from inside the dressing room. Grabbing my purse, I stand and start to move.