Read The Pitch: City Love 2 for Free Online Page B

replied, with a raised brow.
    Paul was wearing dark denim jeans and a simple black polo shirt. His outfit contrasted his fair hair and made his blue eyes appear luminous. He laughed. “That’s exactly why he’s not my type.”
    He gestured up the street and we started walking. “Thanks again for going out of your way. I know this is a hassle.”
    “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Nice non-response to my age question earlier, by the way.”
    Paul glanced at me as we made our way along the sidewalk. “It’s a sensitive subject.”
    “Really? I thought that only applied to women.”
    “Well, I’m not female and getting older stings.”
    “I don’t know what you’re worried about.” He was lucky if he was a day over forty.
    Paul’s eyes gleamed at me through the city semi-darkness. “Said with the innocence of youth, my dear.”
    “Said with the condescension of age, old man,” I retorted, and watched as his eyes widened and he laughed heartily.
    “See how you feel in ten years, when you’re staring down the barrel of middle age,” he said when his laughter subsided.
    “I dare say I’ll be less worried about the number and more concerned with finding a cosmetic surgeon.”
    “I hope not. And I doubt you’ll need one, judging by your mother.”
    “Fingers crossed. All I’m saying is age in a man is considered an advantage, whereas for women we’re seen as being past our prime. Men can at least age gracefully.”
    “Is that what I’m doing?” he muttered.
    I doubted someone as self-assured as Paul needed reassurance, but I couldn’t believe he didn’t see it. “Absolutely. I mean, look at you. You’re in your prime. You’re the major partner of a successful and established leading Sydney media agency. Unlike me, who is yet to prove myself.”
    Paul’s eyes turned thoughtful. “You’ve already proved yourself. There’s hard work to come, but don’t fool yourself by thinking public success equates to personal success.”
    I blinked. His comment was deeply insightful. “That sounds very wise.”
    His lips curled into a wry smile. “Or old, don’t you mean?”
    “How old?”
    “Nice try.”
    I resisted the urge to punch him playfully and realized with a shock that our formal business relationship wasn’t quite so formal anymore. “Oh come on. Would you really like to be twenty-nine again and have to do it all over?”
    “I wouldn’t want to do it all over again, but there are parts I’d change.”
    We reached his car, which was shadowed in darkness by the branches of a stately, old oak tree. Paul opened the door of a sleek black Audi sedan for me and I settled into the leather passenger seat. I waited until he was in the driver’s seat to resume our conversation.
    “Regrets?” I asked casually, although I was more than a little curious about the less public aspects of Paul’s life.
    He started the engine. It was an interesting response.
    “Everyone has regrets,” I persisted. “That’s the price of taking risks, surely?”
    He didn’t answer again and instead concentrated on checking the road for traffic. He pulled out smoothly and drove toward the Grounded Marketing office in silence. The gentle hum of the Audi filled the lull in conversation and I suspected that Paul was a man that needed space to talk.
    I was rewarded a few blocks later, when he glanced at me, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I can live with business and professional risks,” he told me quietly. “It’s the personal ones that are harder to reconcile.”
    “I doubt there’s anyone who has lived who doesn’t have a personal regret or two,” I reasoned. I certainly had a few. The way my last long-term relationship ended for instance. I resisted a scowl. That was the main reason I was still single four years later.
    We pulled up out the front of my towering Kent Street office building. Paul found a parking spot easily due to the late hour. He shut off the motor.
    “I’m being unnecessarily