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Authors: Chamein Canton

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BOOK: Not His Type
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“Cathy!” Dahlia, Keens’ exuberant and beautiful
hostess, came over with arms outstretched for a hug. “How
are you, darling? You look wonderful.” Dahlia had a way of
making everything she said sound like a song.

“I’m good, Dahlia. How are you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t complain.” Dahlia’s
warm smile brightened once again. “How about we get you
a table?”

“That would be lovely,” Cathy sighed.
“Follow me.” She grabbed a couple of menus.
Cathy followed Dahlia through the dining room to a

place near some gorgeous young women, all of whom
looked like models; the table was a virtual kaleidoscope of
beautiful women of all colors. Cathy felt a sense of dread.
Oh God, it figures I’m actually hungry this afternoon. Should
I wait and let Dahlia find another table further away?
No
sooner did the thought enter her mind, than she dismissed
it. Keen’s was rather crowded and she was hungry; that was
the bottom line. Besides, her client, Jim Weil, would surely
appreciate the view more than she.

“Here you go, darling.” Dahlia placed the menus on the
table.
Cathy sat down. “Thanks, Dahlia.”
“Anything for my favorite literary agent.”
Cathy grinned. “I told you, when you’re ready to do
your book let me know. I know you have stories to tell.”
Dahlia leaned closer to the table. “You don’t know the
half of it.” She winked.
“Well, I can’t wait to find out.”
“I’ll send the waiter over to take your drink order.
Bon
appétit.”
“Thanks again.”

v

Across the room Ben and Marcus were discussing a little
business with a good steak lunch. While Ben had a cold
beer, it was game night for Marcus and he nursed a
Pellegrino with a twist.

“So are you excited about this deal?” Ben asked as he
sipped his beer.
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
“Of course I’m excited. I think signing with Abe’s dealership was a good idea.”
“I’m glad you think so. I wasn’t sure you were paying
attention.”
He chortled. “I was paying attention. Just because…”
Marcus stopped mid-sentence when he saw Cathy. Hair
bouncing, she smiled at her waiter, obviously engaged in a
minor flirtation. A born breast man, his eyes immediately
zeroed in on her cleavage. Driven to distraction, he kept
missing as he tried blindly to slice a non-existent slice of
steak on his plate.
Ben chuckled as he wiped his mouth. He’d seen this
look before. “Marcus?”
He snapped out of his trance. “You were saying, Ben?”
Ben put his napkin down. “You haven’t heard a word I
said.” He looked around. “So where are they?”
“Where are who?”
“The breasts that have you mesmerized. I know they
have to be around here somewhere.” His eyes searched the
room.
Marcus knew he was caught. He laughed. “The hostess
just seated a woman in a blue dress.”
Ben tried not to be too obvious. “Yeah, I see the
hostess.”
“I’m not talking about the hostess. I’m talking about
the woman in the blue dress.” He looked closer. “She’s
almost directly across from us. I think it’s a Yankee blue
dress.”
Ben scanned the room, then spotted Cathy. “Oh, I see
her.” He shook his head. “Do you have sonar or something?
You always manage to scope out the biggest breasts in the
room.”
Marcus shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
Ben pushed his glasses off the tip of his nose. “Okay,
breast man, we’d better eat and get out of here soon. You
have a game tonight.”
“I know. But there’s no law that says I can’t look.”
“Not yet.” Ben mused.
“Well, if they passed one, I would happily go to jail.”
Ben conceded. “You and me both.”
Marcus went back to his porterhouse but not before
smiling in Cathy’s direction.

v

Completely unaware of Marcus’ presence, or interest in
her, Cathy ordered lunch. Jim always ran late. She actually
enjoyed the quiet, reader friendly buzz of the restaurant.
However, today the quiet buzz didn’t last for long as the
table of supermodels suddenly came alive with girlish
giggles and chatter. Cathy knew there was only one thing
that could elicit such a reaction: a man. And not just any
man, a famous one.

Cathy mustered up her cool and as nonchalantly as
possible she scanned the restaurant to see who the supermodels were so worked up about. When she saw Marcus
Fox she nearly broke into a giggle herself but thought better
of it. After all, she was a dignified 40-year-old literary agent
and mother. She’d giggle when she got home, like any other
star-struck fan over 35.
Gorgeous.
She felt a chill down her
spine but she reminded herself she wasn’t there to ogle, but
to discuss business with a client. She checked her cell phone
again. No message from Jim.

Food in front of her, Cathy amused herself with a little
lunch theater as the scene at Keen’s became part circus, part
drama and part fashion show. Each of the supermodels
sashayed in front of Marcus’s table but he ignored them all.

v

“Can you believe this?” he muttered.
“Believe what? The way those girls are walking around
to get your attention? Of course I believe it.” Ben sipped his
water.
“Well, I wish they would sit down already. I’ve been
trying to make eye contact with the woman in the blue
dress and they keep getting in my way.” He scowled.
“You’re smiling in their direction. What else are they
going to think?” Ben reasoned. “They don’t know about
your obsession with breasts. If they did, they would sit
down. From the looks of things I don’t think there’s a B cup
in the bunch. Hell, I’m not sure if you added them all
together there would be a B cup.”
Marcus laughed in spite of himself. “I think you’re right
about that.”
“I know I’m right. Just relax. I’m sure they’ll get the
hint.”
Marcus glanced at his watch. “I hope they get the hint
soon.”
For her part Cathy was surprised the supermodels didn’t
get any play from him. Every entertainment reporter in
New York deemed Marcus Fox the stud of studs and a real
player. Every other day one of the gossip columns reported
on some aspect of his social life and the women (specifically
singers, actresses and models) he dated. Yet with a virtual
smorgasbord of models to choose from, he passed. The
bewildered girls looked as if they’d been voted off
Survivor
by a tribal council of one, and they were none too happy
about it.
Fascinated, Cathy watched the latest castoff go back to
the table.
“Are you sure he’s not a down low brother?” one of the
models asked.
Cathy covered her mouth as she nearly choked on her
steak.
“He doesn’t look like a down low guy,” another
answered.
“Isn’t that the point? They never look like down low
brothers. Otherwise they’d be out.”
“I don’t think he’s interested.”
“Isn’t he seeing that girl from that entertainment news
show?”
“I read the gossip column and it said they’re just
friends.”
“Well he’s smiling at someone over this way. If it’s not
one of us, who is it?”
“Forget about it. Let’s just pay the check and get out of
here. It’s his loss.”
As the dejected supermodels made their way out, Cathy
realized she wasn’t the only one watching.
If I didn’t know
better I would say Marcus Fox looks relieved
, she mused.
Marcus did in fact breathe a sigh of relief.
“Marcus, are you ready to bounce?” Ben was a little
anxious about the time.
“Not quite. I need to get the waiter.”
Ben looked incredulous. “Are you telling me that you
want something else after that porterhouse?”
Marcus wasn’t fazed. “Yeah. Signal the waiter for me.”
In the meantime Cathy answered her cell phone.
“Cathy? It’s Jim. I’m so sorry about lunch.”
She pretended to be annoyed. “You could have called
me earlier, you know.”
“I know, I just got caught up in things.”
“By things you mean either cigars with your crew or
some new young thing.”
“I’m through chasing after young things.”
“Spoken like a man who is nowhere near ready to give
up chasing younger women no matter how much trouble
they get him into,” Cathy quipped.
“Can I get a rain check on lunch?”
“Eventually,” she teased.
“You know you’re the best.”
Cathy smiled but she didn’t let on. “Yeah, sure. Yada,
yada, yada. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.”
Just as Catherine put her cell phone away the waiter
came over.
“Something for dessert?”
Dessert. What could be better?
she thought as she eyed
the menu.
Her eyes widened at the very words,
chocolate mousse
.
“I’d love the chocolate mousse.”
“Certainly.”
Wait a minute, Marcus Fox is still here. I can’t let him see
me make a pig of myself
. A little wave of guilt glided over her.
“No, I changed my mind. I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”
“Sure.”
In an instant Cathy silently chastised herself for
changing her mind about dessert.
With all my talk about
feeling sexy in my own skin I still didn’t want Marcus Fox to
see me eat dessert
.
Never mind that I powered down a New
York strip, baked potato, salad and steamed vegetables. I might
not have pranced in front of him but I was as bad as the supermodels
, she sighed. Every day was a battle in the crusade for
real self acceptance of her body.

v

Ben signaled for Cathy’s waiter to come over.
“Yes, sir?”
“Did the lady in the blue dress order dessert?” Marcus

asked
“No, sir. She ordered coffee.”
“What was she going to order?”
“The chocolate mousse.”
“Okay. Get it for her and put her lunch and dessert on

my tab.” He gave the waiter a $100.00 tip.

His eyes lit up. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take care of it.” The
waiter went into the kitchen.
Arms folded, Ben asked a silly question. “We’re not
leaving yet, are we?”
Marcus smiled. “Nope.”
A few minutes later the waiter placed the chocolate
mousse and coffee in front of a very puzzled Cathy.
She took a whiff of her coffee for hallucinogens or
liquor. Then she pinched her arm to make sure this wasn’t
some post lunch traumatic stress thing.
Satisfied that she wasn’t nuts, she looked up at the
waiter. “I’m sorry. I changed my mind about the mousse.”
“Yes ma’am. However, this is compliments of the
gentleman.”
He motioned towards Marcus’s table but only Ben was
there.
Cathy was confused. “I don’t think I know him.”
The waiter glanced over and saw Ben. “That’s not him;
it was the other gentleman.”
“What other gentleman?”
The waiter seemed genuinely surprised. “He was there
a few minutes ago.” He paused to scan the room. “He
wanted you to enjoy dessert and lunch is on him.”
She was floored. “Well, tell him thank you if you see
him.” She went for her bag. “At least I can get your tip.”
“No need, he took care of that too.”

She was dumbfounded.
Who in the world would send me
dessert and then pay for my lunch right down to the tip?
Catherine stared at the mousse as if it were a magic eight
ball but staring wasn’t going to answer her question; she
decided she might as well enjoy.

Like a little girl, Cathy slowly put a spoonful in her
mouth. She closed her eyes and let the delightful whipped
texture melt on her tongue.

As Marcus approached he watched her full lips glide
over the spoon and felt a sudden rush of heat under his
collar.

Unaware of her audience, Cathy leaned forward to read
her magazine, which pushed her breasts further into view.
Marcus hung back for a moment and stared at Cathy’s
assets. His eyes traced her body along the v-neck opening
of her dress. The little freckle on her left breast was like a
cherry on the top of Marcus’s version of a sundae, perfection. He was more than hot under the collar. Another
moment and the whole restaurant would know just how
hot he was.
He cleared his throat. “Now that’s what I like to see. A
woman enjoying dessert.”
The minute Cathy heard the voice she felt hot and cold
at the same time. She struggled to put her thoughts
together before she looked up but it was too late, she was
helpless and breathless. It was as if her eyes had reached the
summit of the Mount Everest of men. At 6’4 Marcus, with
his light cappuccino complexion, tight body and hazel eyes
was the epitome of gorgeous. Taking him in almost
completely overwhelmed her senses. Cathy, usually never at
a loss for words, searched for something smart to say.
What
the hell is wrong with me? Why am I drawing a blank?
He grinned. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Sure. Be my guest,” she finally managed to respond.
As he sat down and checked out the object of his
distraction, his warm smile reflected his approval. “I’m glad
I finally have your attention.”
She was at a loss. “Finally have my attention? I didn’t
know you were trying to get my attention,” she stuttered.
Marcus struggled to keep his eyes on her face.
“The women at the table behind you noticed.”
Cathy was surprised. “I saw you looking in this direction but I assumed you were interested in the supermodels.”
I can’t believe I said that out loud
, she thought to
herself.
“I guess you read the gossip columns.” He titled his
head back and laughed.
Cathy’s face felt flushed.
Look at those sexy lips. I wonder
if they taste as good as they look.
Cathy was grateful he
couldn’t read her x-rated mind but she blushed just the
same. “Sometimes.”
He enjoyed making her blush. “You’re blushing. That’s
so cute.”
“I don’t feel cute. I feel silly. I’m too old to blush like
this.”
“Says who?”
Her heart raced. “No one important.”
“You know why I noticed you instead of them?”
Cathy leaned forward, which made her cleavage more
noticeable. Again her breasts put Marcus in a trance. He
just stared.
“Let me know if they answer you,” she said softly.
He snapped out of it. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said let me know if they answer you.”
Marcus was a little confused. “Who?”
She batted her eyes.
Now who’s blushing?
“My boobs.
You are apparently talking to them. I just want you to let
me know if they answer because that would be one hell of
a party trick.”
He laughed. “I apologize.”
Cathy smiled warmly. “Apology accepted.” She leaned
back. “So was I the only woman in the restaurant actually
eating and not just pushing my food around the plate?”
He enjoyed her playful yet sardonic sense of humor. “I
wasn’t going to say that, but that’s a good one.”
She shrugged.
“I noticed you because you were so busy working in the
midst of all this noise. Nothing fazed you.”
And here I thought it was boobs.
She chuckled. “Funny,
that’s the same thought I have when I see you step onto the
field. How in the world do you manage to perform under
such a noisy microscope?”
“I love what I do and I owe it to our fans to do the best
I can.”
“It’s kind of the same for me except I don’t work in
front of 50,000 plus fans at Yankee stadium. Not to
mention God knows how many watching on television. I
just do my best for my clients.”
“What line of work are you in?” Marcus asked.
“I’m a literary agent.”
“Really?” He leaned in to listen more closely to this
beautiful and smart woman. It was a nice change. She was
an even better balance: brains and breasts. She could be a
challenge. He decided to play devil’s advocate. “A literary
agent. In your opinion what’s the difference between sports
agents, talent agents and literary agents? Don’t all three
basically serve the same essential purpose?”
“Yes. We represent artists in different mediums. I’m
sure I’d get an argument from sports and talent agents, but
I think literary agents have the toughest job.”
He was intrigued. “Why’s that?”
“For one thing, with the exception of nonfiction, which
we can sell based on marketing research and hard facts, it’s
harder to get fiction published these days than ever before.”
She paused for a moment. “Come to think of it, nonfiction’s not a picnic either.”
“So why do you do it?”
“Because a yes washes away hundreds of rejections and
makes it all worthwhile.”
He was impressed with her sincerity. “You really have to
love what you do.”
“Absolutely, otherwise you wouldn’t last one day.
Frankly, you’re just as vested in their project as they are.”
“You said vested in their project and not their success.
Doesn’t their success mean money?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, the money part is a good
thing. It’s just not the only thing. I don’t know how to
explain it.” Catherine reflected a moment to make sure she
didn’t sound like an idiot. “Writing a book is like being
pregnant, only gestation goes way beyond nine months.
Fiction or nonfiction, the ideas are nurtured, fed and
protected by the author. Then they turn the baby over to
me, the agent, and it’s my job to find the best home for it
so it can be shared with the world.”
Cathy wasn’t sure if the look on his face meant he
thought she was the craziest broad he’d ever met or not. She
held her breath.
“That’s an interesting way to describe it.”
It was getting late so Marcus risked one more glance at
her bodacious breasts. He liked that she hadn’t let him get
away with it before, but he was a breast man and couldn’t
keep from looking again.
Cathy was hip to even the slickest dip of the eye but this
time she decided to let it slide. After all, he was
the
Marcus
Fox. She figured she’d enjoy the attention while it lasted.
Marcus looked disappointed as he glanced at his watch.
“I would love to talk more but I have to head over to the
stadium.”
“Of course, there’s a game tonight at seven.”
“Do you have tickets?”
“No. I’ll have to settle for watching it on television.”
“At least this time. But before I leave, can I ask you
something?”
“Sure.”
Cathy’s heart fluttered as he pulled his chair closer to
her. “Can I at least get your name?”
“How embarrassing. I’m Catherine Chambers.”
They shook hands. “Pleasure meeting you, Catherine.
By the way I’m Marcus Fox.”
“As if I didn’t know.”
He chuckled. “Do you have a business card,
Catherine?”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of
cards. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” He studied the card. “The ChambersStevens Literary Agency. Catherine Chambers, Managing
Partner. Wow, managing partner. That’s impressive.”
“Thanks.”
It should also say head bottle washer
, she
thought.
He took a pen out. “This card lists your business
numbers. Would it be possible for me to get your home
number?”
She was taken aback. “My home number?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind. I promise I won’t write it on the
wall of the clubhouse.”
She laughed, then realized he was serious.
Oh my God.
He really wants my home number. What’s the harm in giving
it to him? He’s not going to use it
. She figured it couldn’t get
any more surreal than it already was. “It’s 631-555-9864.”
He jotted the number down. “I’ll be giving you a call
sooner rather than later.” He winked.
The butterflies in her stomach moved. “Okay. By the
way, thanks for lunch and dessert.”
“My pleasure.” His eyes were so intense Cathy was a
little unsettled.
They shook hands. Cathy watched him as he walked
over to Ben.
From his position Ben had watched Marcus interact
with the lovely lady in the blue dress. He’d been around the
block a few times with Marcus’s dating/love life and knew
the type of women he usually went for. And a full-figured
woman was definitely outside his zone.
What do you know,
Marcus might actually be growing up,
he thought.
Marcus walked up to Ben. “Are you ready to bounce?”
Marcus said as he slipped her business card in his wallet.
“Sure. Are you ready? I thought you might want to
spend a little more time with…”
“Catherine Chambers,” Marcus filled in. “Catherine
Chambers, literary agent.”
“Impressive.”
“I thought so too.”
A young boy walked over and interrupted the conversation.
“Excuse me?” The little voice asked.
Marcus looked down. “Hi there. What’s your name?”
The little boy tried to quell his excitement. “Kevin.”
Marcus stooped down and shook his hand. “Nice to
meet you, Kevin. I’m Marcus Fox.”
The little boy giggled with delight. A breathless woman
appeared. “There you are, Kevin.” She let out a sigh of
relief. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Sorry, Mom. I wanted to get Mr. Fox’s autograph.”
“I’m sure Mr. Fox doesn’t have time for that.”
“No, ma’am, that’s quite all right. Where’s your
camera?”
His mother produced her cell phone.
“Terrific.” He handed the camera phone to Ben. “Take
a picture of the three of us, Ben.”
“Sure.”
“Do you know how to use the cell phone camera?”
Marcus asked jokingly.
Ben ignored him and took a couple of pictures. He
handed the phone back to Kevin.
“Thanks, Mr. Fox.”
“Not a problem.”
“Have a good game.”
“Thanks, Kevin.”
As Marcus and Ben walked out, Marcus turned to Ben.
“Why don’t the photographers ever print those pictures?”
“Pictures like that don’t pay the bills, my friend.”
From her table Cathy admired how graciously Marcus
treated his fans. She was tickled that he’d asked her for her
number, despite having had to call him on the boob stare.
Deep down she thought,
There’s no way he’s going to call, but
it sure felt good to give him my digits
. She could hear her sons
moaning now. ‘MOM! Digits is so lame.’
Suddenly she was hit with a thought.
I didn’t think I had
a snowball’s chance in hell of actually meeting Marcus Fox, yet
I met him today.He asked for my phone number, and I gave it
to him
. She rubbed her forehead.
What have I gotten myself
into?
Cathy checked her watch. It was time to bounce if she
wanted to make it to the staff meeting on time. Even
though the office was a relatively short walk from Keen’s,
she hailed a cab.
Cathy got in the cab and stared out the window.
Will he
call? If he does, what will I say or do?
Every question begot
another and soon she had her head spinning.
“Miss?” the cabbie said.
She came back to earth. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re here.”
“Oh thank you.” She jumped out and paid the cabbie.
“Keep the change.”
“Thanks, lady.”
Cathy paused outside.
It’s time to get serious. I have to
leave all this Marcus stuff on the curb.
Entering, she passed
the reception desk and pressed the button for the elevator.
It’s all about work and nothing else. Besides, why should I
worry? There’s no way he’ll call
.
I read the papers. He dates
women with legs that start at their shoulders. I’m definitely not
his type.

BOOK: Not His Type
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