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I was stuffed to the brim after eating nearly the entire flatbread pizza on my own as well as a half dozen strawberries – at least. My insomnia along with my food-induced coma was putting me on the brink of unconsciousness.

“I think I’m going to go find my bedroom. Thanks again for dinner.”

“Please take the master bedroom upstairs, Brooke. You’ll love the view. It overlooks Central Park.”

“OK, thanks. What time do we need to begin working in the morning?” I asked Rich.

“Our first appointment is scheduled at nine o’clock, and with the heavy traffic, it will probably take about thirty minutes to get there. Would you like to meet downstairs at The Palm Court around eight? They serve fabulous omelets,” he informed me.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Thanks, again, Rich – for everything,” I said warmly.

“No problem, Brooke. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

I was so exhausted when I finally made it upstairs that I hardly had enough energy to wash my face and pull my hair into a high ponytail. I was already dressed in my comfy clothes from the flight so I just decided to jump into bed without changing. As I began to drift off, part of me wished that Rich would come knocking on my door, but when I awoke to the sound of my alarm that next morning, those wishes had not been realized.

R
ich and I spent several hours the next day working on our assignment. We’d traveled to New York City to do research on an article concerning the inner workings of the stock market. Rich had set up several interviews with Wall Street bigwigs before we arrived in the city.

His goal for us was to write a series of articles beginning with Wall Street’s history to the recent crash of ’08 to its current rebuilding. We had met with several sources throughout the day when Rich suggested we take a break for the rest of the evening.

Rich made dinner reservations at Eleven Madison Park. After waiting a few minutes in the lobby, the hostess took us to a table near the back of the restaurant. I looked at Rich quizzically when I noticed four place settings.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my friend Blake and his wife, Alyssa, to join us. Blake and I went to Columbia together for its journalism master’s program and he stayed here in the city after graduation. He has an editorial position with the
Times
.”

“Really? I don’t mind at all. I can’t wait to meet a friend of Rich Davis. I was convinced, after all these years, that you were incapable of a male friendship. After all, I’ve only seen you in the company of co-workers, or ladies.”

Just as I was heckling Rich about his bromance, I heard someone whooping and hollering as a loud, booming, male voice got closer.

“What’s up, Hot?” said the man who, I presumed, was Blake.

I looked at Rich and mouthed, “Did he just call you, Hot?”

Rich just started laughing and whispered in my ear that he would explain later as he fist-bumped his friend.

I could tell that Blake commanded a room. He was huge; I mean maybe, even literally, a giant. I thought Rich was tall, but Blake had at least five inches on Rich’s six-feet-three-inch frame. His arms were probably the size of an average man’s thighs. To put it simply, he was a tree, and not just any tree – a very mature oak tree. Although his size alone might terrify most, I could tell by his bright, green eyes and deep dimples that he was nothing but a big teddy bear.

The woman standing at his side, who I assumed was Alyssa, was the complete opposite in stature of her wall of a husband. Even with her black pumps, she didn’t reach my height. I smiled when I realized that her usually tiny frame was carrying a very large, protruding baby bump. She looked like she was about to fall over.
How in the heck was she still wearing heels? It was a mystery that I would never understand.
She was beautiful though as she looked up at her husband with nothing but pride gleaming in her eyes.

“Early!” Rich exclaimed. “It was always like you to show up at least fifteen minutes late to everything. It’s a wonder you didn’t get kicked out of grad school.”

What the hell, did Rich call the guy “Early,” yet he was late, and evidently is always late? I really need to get more information on these nicknames.

“Whatever, Hot. I have to make my appearance known whenever I enter a room. You know I can’t just blend in with the losers who always show up on time. Now, who is this stunning lady at your side?”

“Blake, this is my colleague Brooke Anderson. Brooke, this is my good friend Blake Mitchell and his beautiful wife, Alyssa.”

I shook both their hands while noticing that Rich only introduced me as his colleague and not even as his friend. That’s what I wanted though, right? Even if it’s what I asked of Rich, I still felt some disappointment at his introduction.

While waiting for our food to arrive, Rich caught up with Blake as I talked about babies with Alyssa. The two of them were going to welcome their first child, a daughter, in about three weeks. I gushed about my precious goddaughter and told Alyssa stories about Cassidy’s pregnancy and labor. After all, I was like the surrogate daddy in the delivery room.

“So, what brought you to D.C., Brooke?” Blake asked, as the waitress was bringing our calamari appetizer. “Hot mentioned that you two knew each other during his undergrad days in Michigan? I assume that’s where you’re from?”

“Yes, but before we talk about me, can we back up a bit? Would you two please explain these nicknames of yours … I mean ‘Hot’ and ‘Early?’ I think I’m missing something here.”

Alyssa couldn’t resist laughing and chimed in, “Oh, honey, these two have their own language. When Blake and I first met, I didn’t know what they were talking about half the time. I’ve slowly figured it out and now even catch myself using it.”

“Whatever, Lys. It’s simple, Brooke. Everything is pretty much opposite of what we’re actually saying,” Rich explained.

“Exactly, so I call this guy ‘Hot’ because he’s so damn ugly,” Blake said, as he elbowed Rich in the rib.

“Yep, you’re just jealous that I always got all the hot chicks at Columbia,” Rich shot back. “Blake earned the name ‘Early’ because he’s always at least fifteen minutes late for EVERYTHING, as I pointed out before.”

“Come to think of it, though, I should’ve just called him ‘Hotter.’ You better pray your kid takes after your wife in the looks department,” Rich chaffed.

“You two are both crazy,” I said, as Alyssa nodded her head in agreement. “But, to go back and answer your question – yes, I’m from Michigan. Rich and I met as undergrads at Western. I always wanted to work for the
Post
, and thanks in part to Rich, I finally have that opportunity.”

We continued our conversation throughout dinner. I learned that Blake met Alyssa while he was studying at Columbia. She was actually in the law program and they met during a media law course that Blake was taking as part of the journalism program. They were both originally from Upstate New York, but decided to stay in the city where Blake now worked for the
Times
and Alyssa was a partner in a prestigious law firm in Manhattan.

Blake and Rich continued to razz each other about anything and everything. It only became slightly uncomfortable when Blake asked Rich about his social calendar.

“So, Hot, seeing any pretty ladies these days? Since Brooke is only your ‘colleague’; I assume it isn’t for your lack of trying.”

Rich cleared his throat before answering his friend’s very direct question. “Actually, I do hope there is one special lady in my life. But, we’re still working out the terms of our relationship.”

Is he talking about me?
Suddenly, I became nauseated at the thought that Rich wasn’t talking about me, but, most likely, Janine.

“If you’ll all excuse me, I need to head to the ladies’ room.” I had to regain my composure. I couldn’t let Rich know that he was getting to me this way.

I made my way back from the restroom just as Blake and Alyssa were standing up to leave.

“Sorry to leave you alone with this punk, Brooke, but Alyssa’s pretty tired. It was a pleasure meeting you and please let us know the next time you visit the city.”

Rich and Blake gave each other a one-armed, man hug.

“Hey, keep your hands where I can see them, man,” Blake joked to Rich, when he gave Alyssa a warm, friendly embrace.

Ignoring his friend, Rich said to Alyssa, “Take care of yourself, Lys. Don’t let this asshole make you go into early labor. And, make sure he lets me know when my niece enters into this world.”

Rich and I had been in New York City for two entire days, and he hadn’t tried anything more than snuggling with me on the couch. This could only mean one thing – he was, in fact, dating Janine. I didn’t want to come right out and ask Rich because the last time I did that, he practically scolded me in his office. We were having a great time and working well together and I didn’t want to make the rest of our trip uncomfortable for either of us.

We spent the morning, once again, interviewing some of Rich’s contacts at the Exchange. It started snowing just as we were exiting the building for lunch. I pulled my red, wool peacoat tighter to my chest and wrapped my knitted, white, infinity scarf closer to my neck. I was glad that I chose my knee-high boots rather than the black pumps I had originally unpacked this morning.

“Why don’t we skip our afternoon appointments and play hooky this afternoon,” Rich said. “I have the perfect idea.”

“Did Rich Davis just suggest playing hooky?” I questioned in disbelief.

“Shockingly, I did,” he answered amusingly.

“You’ve come a long way since you referred to me as the ‘slacker-type.’”

“You never let me forget my arrogant ways, do you Miss Anderson? Now, let’s go have some fun, shall we?”

How could I argue with this playful side of Rich?

“Lead the way, Mr. Davis,” I said with the widest possible smile on my face.

We took a cab back to The Plaza where Rich insisted I change into something warm and comfy. I went into my bedroom and changed into a pair of skinny jeans and my favorite white, cashmere sweater. I pulled on my pink Ugg boots and completed my ultimate snow-bunny look with my matching pink, puffy jacket. After wrapping a scarf around my neck, I added a knit headband to cover my ears. I figured I would be prepared in case Rich was planning an outdoor activity.

I headed downstairs to the living room and noticed that Rich was already waiting for me, dressed in his winter gear. I tried my best to hide my disappointment after seeing his ski jacket covering so much of his sexy body.

“Where are we headed, Rich?”

“That’s my surprise, Brooke. You said you’d never been to the city before and I thought we could have some fun and maybe tackle a couple of those locations that are probably in your precious
Frommer’s
.”

I soon realized, when Rich didn’t immediately hail a cab, that we were walking across the street to Central Park. Rich’s hand clung to mine as we made our way through the gates and headed toward the signs that pointed toward the Wollman Rink.

“Oh my god, are we going ice skating?” I questioned, as I began jumping up and down on the sidewalk.

“Somehow, I knew you would love this. Is this part of your Home Again movie, too?” he asked.