A sigh from Deborah. “You’re probably right. At least then I won’t have to sleep with Whelan anymore. Frankly, it was a chore.”

The other two women laughed. Jay heard the clinking of glasses. Then the sound of glass breaking.

He looked at his hand and the shards of his martini glass cutting into his skin. Blood mixed with the spilled gin and spread over the pristine white tablecloth.

But he didn’t feel the pain. He’d gone numb.

The woman he’d thought himself in love with had been two-timing him. And not only that. The only reason she considered marrying him was because he had more money than the next sucker in line.

Jay stood up, not caring that his jerky movement pushed the table toward the other end of the booth and made a loud grating noise on the polished wooden floor. Nor did he care about the cuts on his hand.

He tossed a twenty on the table and took a few steps to face the booth with the three women.

Deborah’s girlfriends looked up at him, checking him out. When he remained standing there, saying nothing, the women exchanged curious glances.

“What?” Deborah asked, looking over her shoulder.

Jay met her surprised gaze.

“Oh, hi, Jay, I didn’t—”

He raised a hand, the uninjured one. “Spare me.” He motioned to the piece of paper in the middle of the table. “And you can take me off that list of yours. I won’t continue dating a calculating woman who’s clearly only after my money.”

He enjoyed the moment when the penny dropped for Deborah. She didn’t even try to deny it, knowing she was caught.

“If I ever get married, it will be to a woman who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about my money.”

He pivoted and charged toward the door. It opened just as he reached it. He almost bumped into his business associate.

“Oh, hey, Jay!” Milton greeted him cheerfully. “Sorry for the—”

“Evening Milton, do you mind if we go somewhere else? This isn’t really my scene.”

Jay walked out into the cold winter night, realizing too late that he’d left his coat at the coat check. But he had no intention of going back into the restaurant where Cassie and Sharon were right now consoling his ex-girlfriend and probably already convincing her that maybe Whelan wasn’t such a bad catch after all. Poor Whelan.

As Jay hailed a cab, his heart turned to stone. From now on, he would be very careful whom he opened his heart to. The first hint that a woman was after him only for his money, and he’d be leaving her in the dust.

1

Montauk, Long Island, NY

Today

Alerted by the angry voice of Paul Gilbert, his friend and fellow member of the Eternal Bachelors Club, Jay turned his attention toward the pool house. He wasn’t the only one who was now staring at the fight about to break out.

Paul, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo like Jay himself, was gripping an obviously drunk, middle-aged man by the collar. “I said, leave my girlfriend alone!”

“Girlfriend? She’s a fucking hooker!” the man yelled.

Jay cursed under his breath, stunned by the outrageous accusation.

And here he’d thought Paul’s parents’ anniversary party, to which the Who’s Who of the Hamptons and New York had been invited, would be a dull affair. Far from it. While Jay had nothing against some impromptu entertainment, he didn’t wish anything bad on Paul, particularly when it had anything to do with Holly, the woman he was so clearly in love with. Jay couldn’t blame him. Holly was a stunner: mesmerizing blue eyes, long blond locks, and a body to die for. Jay had flirted with her a few months ago, but he knew that a woman like Holly deserved a man who could make a commitment.

And after the debacle with Deborah, Jay had sworn off relationships. It didn’t mean that he didn’t date or have sex, but it meant he didn’t open his heart anymore. His trust in the opposite sex was somewhat shaken, and so far he hadn’t come up with a sure-fire way of figuring out if a woman truly liked him or his money. Jay pushed the thoughts away. This certainly wasn’t the place to be looking for a girlfriend. The women invited to this high society event were all from wealthy or well-connected families, and he knew very well what that meant: they wouldn’t look at him twice if he didn’t have hundreds of millions to his name. Knowing that, how could he ever be sure that the affection and love they showed him was genuine?

Was it even possible to find a love match in a society like this? Where parents were making sure that their daughters met only eligible men with a large enough bank account? Sometimes he wished he could pretend to be an average Joe and see how far his good looks, southern drawl, and charm would get him. Maybe then he would finally meet a real woman who saw the man behind the suave exterior: the hard-working kid who’d worked his way out of poverty and made it big, thanks to his determination and inventiveness, not to mention a good portion of luck. But few people ever got to see that side of him. Nor knew where he came from, or the pain of his difficult childhood.