Would you like another Coke, miss?? the bow-tied cocktail server asked. ?No, thank you,? Blair answered, keeping her eyes glued to the door. All week long her mind had been on one thing only: her interview with Owen Wells. She had even done some research on the Internet so she could ask him pointed questions about Wells, Trachtman, & Rice, the law firm where he was a partner. Now it was finally Thursday night and she was sitting alone at the corner table in Leneman?s Bar in the Compton Hotel, waiting for him. The bar was crowded, mostly with middle-aged men in custom-tailored suits, discussing business deals over bourbon on the rocks, or sitting with bleached-blond women who were very definitely not their wives. With its golden walls, crisp white tablecloths, and forties jazz music, the bar had an air of sexy sophistication. Blair had spent almost three hours getting ready: one to shower and blow her hair out into a neat, preppy coif that framed her face in an innocent yet intellectual manner; one to dress in her new belted Les Best jersey dress, which she had paired with her lucky pair of three-inch Ferragamo heels, to give her an extra bit of confidence and height; and one to apply natural-looking makeup for the fresh, healthy glow of someone who always got twelve hours of sleep because she never went out and never went near a cigarette or a cocktail.
 Right. It was still only a quarter to nine, but if she drank any more Coke, she?d have to pee so badly she?d never make it through the interview without wetting herself. What Blair really wanted was a shot of Stoli, but with her luck Owen Wells would stroll through the door just as she was knocking back the shot, confirming his worries that she really was just a flaky party girl who only wanted to go to Yale to get drunk and seduce the captain of the crew team, possibly getting pregnant in the process and forcing that innocent, previously upstanding Yale male to marry her and work like a slave for the rest of his life to keep her in the style she was accustomed to. Just then an extremely well groomed businessman sitting at the bar spun around on his gold-painted barstool and smiled at her. He had wavy black hair, bright blue eyes with long curly lashes, and distinctly arched black eyebrows. His face and hands were deeply tanned, as if he played tennis in the sun every day of his life, and he was wearing a gorgeous navy blue wool suit with a crisp white shirt and simple gold cuff links. Blair didn?t usually notice older guys, and this guy was at least thirty-eight, but he was so handsome, it was impossiblenot to notice. ?Are you Blair Waldorf, by any chance?? he asked in a deep, familiar voice. Blair nodded tentatively. ?Yes?? He slid off his stool and walked over to her table, leaving an empty glass tumbler behind on the bar. He held out his right hand. ?I?m Owen Wells.? ?Hi!? Blair jumped to her feet and took his hand, feeling completely confused. First of all, Owen Wells was her father?s colleague, so he should have been old, badly dressed, balding, and fat. Not that her father was. Her father worked out with a personal trainer every day, wore designer clothes, and had great hair. But he wasgay . Second of all, Owen Wells had said he?d be wearing his Yale tie, and this guy wasn?t wearing a tie at all, just a crisp white dress shirt, unbuttoned so she could see the top of the clean white undershirt he was wearing over his muscular chest, which was probably just as tan as the rest of him. Not that she was thinking aboutthe rest of him . Third of all, she hadn?t expected Owen Wells to behot . He looked so much like Cary Grant inAn Affair to Remember that she wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him to forget about Yale, she was his,all his . Blair came to her senses in time to realize that she was still grasping Owen?s hand. She shook it as firmly and confidently as she could, alarmed by her mind?s total inability to focus on the task at hand. She was meeting with Owen for one reason only: to impress him so she could get into Yale. ?Thank you for taking the trouble to meet with me,? she added hastily. ?I?ve been looking forward to it,? he replied in his thrilling, manly voice. ?I just remembered I told you I?d be wearing my Yale tie. Sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I even saw you come in, but I didn?t think it could be you. I wasn?t expecting you to be early.? Immediately Blair wondered if he?d noticed that she?d spent twenty minutes in the bathroom after she?d arrived, or that she?d kept wiping her nose on her cocktail napkin and studying her face in her Stila compact mirror to check for any unsightly blemishes, like a stray eye goober or?God forbid? a pimple. ?I?m usually early,? she answered. ?I?m never late.? She took a nervous sip of Coke. Was this a good time to tell him how impressed she was with his work on theHome Depot vs.The Learning Channel case? Should she compliment his suit? She took a deep breath and tried to focus. ?I like it here,? she declared and immediately regretted it. It was a nice bar, but she made it sound like she wanted to move in or something. Owen pulled back the chair opposite hers and gestured for her to sit down. ?So, should we get started?? Blair was grateful for his relaxed but businesslike manner. She sat down on the edge of the cushioned chair and crossed her legs primly. ?Yes!? She beamed at him enthusiastically. ?Whenever you?re ready.? The cocktail waiter appeared to offer Owen another drink. He ordered a Maker?s Mark and cocked a dark eyebrow at Blair. ?Can I get you something besides a Coke? I promise I won?t tell Yale or your dad.? Blair scrunched up her toes inside her black Ferragamos. If she said yes, she?d be admitting that she really did want a drink, and if she said no, she might seem like a prude. ?I?ll have a glass of chardonnay,? she told him, figuring white wine was the safest, most ladylike option. ?So. Tell me why Yale should admit you,? Owen asked after he?d ordered the wine. He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ?Are you really as bright as your dad claims?? Blair sat up even straighter, twirling her little ruby ring around and around on her ring finger beneath the tablecloth. ?I think I?m smart enough to go to Yale,? she replied evenly, remembering her speech. ?I?m in all the APs at school. I?m at the top of the class. I?m the chair of the social services board and the French club. I?m a peer group leader. I?m nationally ranked in tennis. And I ran the organizing committee for five charity events this past year.? Their drinks arrived and Owen raised his glass. ?And why Yale?? He took a sip. ?What can Yale do for you?? It seemed odd that Owen wasn?t taking notes or anything, but maybe he was testing her, trying to get her to let down her guard and admit that she really was just a flake who?d been born with a silver spoon up her well-bred ass and only wanted to go to Yale to party with frat boys. ?As you know, Yale has an excellent prelaw program,? she stated, determined to give intelligent, straight-to-the-point answers. ?I?m thinking of going into entertainment law.? ?Excellent.? Owen nodded approvingly. He scooted his chair forward and winked at her. ?Look, Blair. You?re an intelligent, ambitious girl. I already know you?re perfect for Yale and I promise I?ll do everything I can to convince them to let you in.? He looked so handsomely earnest while he was saying this that Blair felt her cheeks heat up. She took a sip of wine to cool herself off. ?Thank you,? she responded gratefully. She took another sip of wine and let out an enormous sigh of gratitude and relief. ?Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.? Just then a pair of cool hands covered her eyes and she smelled the distinctive patchouli-and-sandalwood scent of a certain someone?s favorite essential oil mixture. ?Guess who!? Serena whispered in Blair?s ear, then pulled her hands away from Blair?s eyes, her long blond hair brushing Blair?s shoulder as she kissed her cheek. ?What?s going on?? Behind her, Aaron stood grinning goofily, wearing a maroon Harvard sweatshirt like the annoying asshole he was. Blair blinked. Could they not see she was in the middle of the most important meeting of her life? ?I?m Serena.? Serena held out her hand for Owen to shake. Owen stood up and took her hand. ?Charmed.? He bowed his dark head, looking more like Cary Grant than ever. ?So you?re coming to see me in the Les Best show tomorrow, right?? Serena asked Blair. ?Youhave to come,? Aaron chimed in. ?I ain?t going to no fashion show by myself, girlfrien?.? He?d agreed t............