Dating by Design Series Box Set

by Jennifer Peel

  “Well?” Mom was salivating. “Does he know you slept with a poster of him above your bed in college?”

  I whipped my head around. “No. And he never will.” I had been trying to forget about the shirtless poster of him leaning against a red Ferrari. Great, now I was going to have that image in my head.

  “Honey, don’t whip your head around like that. It’s not good for you.” Dad was ever the chiropractor. I had him to thank for my good posture.

  Before I could reach for a glass in the cupboard near the faucet, Mom was already getting me one. “Don’t drink the tap water. I made some strawberry, cucumber, lime, and mint-infused water. It will help with your tension.”

  “Do you still have a crush on him?” Dad asked.

  “Of course not.” I was too old for crushes. “He’s well . . . he’s just . . .” I suppose I shouldn’t bad mouth him. It was probably against the NDA I’d signed.

  “He’s what?” Mom handed me a colorful ice-cold glass of water.

  “Thank you.” I took the glass and downed half of it.

  Mom studied me. “What are you not telling us?”

  I set my glass on the island, inhaled, then let it out in a pathetic exhale. “I have to attend some charity event with him tonight.”

  Mom clapped her hands together and brought them up to her face like this was a dream come true for her. “You have a date with him? This explains your aura.”

  I shook my head with vigor. “Mom, I can’t date our clients. I’m going as a representative for Binary Search. Besides, even if I could, I would never date him.”

  Her hands fell, along with a long sigh. “Which of your rules does he break?”

  “All of them.” Well, almost all of them, but that didn’t need to be articulated.

  A look passed between my parents. It was like I united them in worry. I suppose I should be happy that at least they weren’t bickering.

  Mom rubbed the gemstone chrysocolla that hung around her neck and closed her eyes. She believed chrysocolla gave her wisdom.

  Dad held onto the nearest counter, bracing himself for what Mom would say. He wasn’t a big believer in the healing powers of crystals and gemstones. Neither was I. And Mom probably wouldn’t be in a few months, but you never knew. This particular “hobby” had stuck around for the last couple of years.

  I was good with it until she held the gemstone between us. “Here, honey, rub it with me and breathe in and out slowly.”

  I caught my dad’s amused expression. “Let her be, Stella,” he jumped in on my behalf.

  Mom didn’t take kindly to it. In slow motion she turned around, no doubt giving him a stare to be afraid of. “I’m only trying to help her gain wisdom and visualize how a life living outside the rules would bring her happiness and how Nicholas Wells may play a part.”

  I stepped back, stunned. “What does he have to do with anything?”

  She did the air-hand-wave-thing again all over my body. “His presence is flooding your aura like never before. I really need to see you two together. Do you think he could swing by here with you tonight before the charity event?”

  What in the world was she talking about? “No, Mom. For one, I’m meeting him there.” Which, for some reason, seemed to disgruntle him. He’d offered to pick me up after the whole I’ll have a gown sent to you, but I declined. Unfortunately, he pushed the issue, forcing me to tell him that I only allowed a man to pick me up if we’d had two successful dates. Talk about a strange stare. No doubt he thought I was odd.

  “Did you invoke rule ten on him?” Mom had numbered my rules.

  I reached for her hands and held them. “I. Can’t. Date. Him.” I needed to say each word, slowly and succinctly. “Actually, it’s my job to pick his dates.”

  Both my parents looked confused.

  “I can’t really go into detail, but I’m his relationship manager.”

  Mom squeezed my hands. “All I know is something is off, but . . . right with you. Almost as if your subconscious has identified your soulmate.”

  I dropped her hands. “I don’t believe in soulmates.” You make your soulmate, you don’t find them. To think otherwise was dangerous and caused more relationship problems than it helped.

  “People used to believe the earth was flat. We can’t always be right. Not even you,” Mom quipped.

  Believe me, I knew how wrong I could be.

  Chapter Eleven

  I pulled up to the hotel that only had valet behind a line of cars in downtown Atlanta. I kept repeating in my head there was nothing to be nervous about. This was a business meeting of sorts, an obligation, really. Nothing more, nothing less. Except I had never worn a dress like this for a business meeting. I looked down at the one shoulder, A-line dress that hugged and squeezed every curve I owned. The slit was a little too much. What was I thinking when I bought this? I was thinking of having a fun weekend with girlfriends and taking in a Broadway show or two, maybe meeting someone by chance in New York. But I’d chickened out. I wanted to do the same right now.

  Too late.

  A valet met me at my door and opened it. “Good evening, ma’am.” He held out his hand to help me out of my car.

  I hesitated for half a second before I took it. I was grateful for it, though. Tight, long dresses were not easy to maneuver in. Once out and upright, I took my valet ticket and headed for the unknown. I had no idea what to expect. Nick said it was a casino night, but that meant nothing to me.

  He said he would meet me in the lobby at 6:30. I was five minutes early, so I didn’t expect to see him when I came in through the revolving doors, but there he stood.

  Dashing. He was dashing. I wanted to dash away. It helped that before he saw me he was accosted by a couple of women in dresses that had cutouts . . . everywhere. While they fawned all over him, I took a minute to take in the grandeur of the lobby’s crystal chandelier and the woman playing a lovely tune on the grand piano. Now I knew why they charged five hundred dollars or more a night for a room here. Opulence dripped on everything from the fine furniture to the marble floors.

  Several couples mingled in the lobby and the bar area, dressed to the nines. There were signs directing people to the ballroom for the gala. Many were headed that way. I found myself wanting to melt into the crowd, not to be seen. Not to be here with the guest of honor and keynote speaker. Oh, yeah, he threw in that tidbit yesterday. I wanted to have more fun in my life, but not like this. I liked a quiet, unassuming life. I was thinking more along the lines of trying new restaurants and going to a show or two. This felt more like a Hollywood thing. Not my style at all.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on my shoulder.

  I turned to come face-to-face with a handsome, dark-haired gentleman who looked to be around my age wearing an alluring smile. “You look lost,” he said.

  That was embarrassing. I must have gotten too lost in my head. “Just taking in the sights.”

  “Are you going to the Fallen Officer’s gala?”

  I nodded.

  “I would be happy to escort you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. It had been a while.

  “I should probably introduce myself first.” He held out his hand. “I’m—”

  “Kate.”

  A shiver went through me. Why did my name on his lips do that to me?

  My new almost-acquaintance and I turned toward the voice and the man it belonged to, who now stood by my side wearing a look of contempt. It went well with his tux. I think anything would look good with it, with him. That didn’t mean I was attracted to him, it was only the truth. It was plain to see how beautiful the man was.

  “Hello, Nick.” I looked between the two men who were intent at staring at each other. “This is . . .” I smiled at the man who suddenly looked disappointed.

  “Trent,” he answered while rescinding his hand.

  “Trent, it’s nice to meet you. This is Nick Wells.”

  “Her date,” Nick added in his brusque fashion.
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  I wanted to disagree with him, but did it really matter now? Trent was sufficiently scared off. I did laugh, though, when he walked off muttering, “What in the hell kind of name was Talon Fox?”

  Nick raised his eyebrow at my giggle.

  “You have to admit that was funny.”

  He wasn’t admitting a thing. His eyes were busy perusing me from the French roll twist in my hair all the way down to my black heels.

  I held my breath while his eyes lingered.

  For some reason, I expected a compliment. Maybe because that’s what a gentleman would do. I should have known better. All he said was, “So you did have a dress.”

  I held my shoulders back, stiff. “Glad we’ve cleared that up.” I headed toward the ballroom. “And by the way, you shouldn’t tell people I’m your date. It will give them the wrong impression.”

  He had no problem keeping pace with me with his long legs and me in ridiculously high heels that had me thinking about every step I took. It didn’t help that it felt like all eyes were on us, or should I say Nick. The attention made my skin crawl.

  Nick noticed the attention too. “Slow down,” he said low. He held his arm out. “You are my date, Kate.”

  I put on the brakes, unsure of how to behave. His eyes implored me to take his arm. I shifted my handbag to my left hand, thinking about it.

  He leaned in carefully. “I don’t bite . . . until the end of the night.”

  I think he was telling the truth. My eyes widened while my pulse raced.

  He was impatient and reached for my hand.

  No. That was too intimate. I didn’t hold hands with anyone unless I wanted to pursue a relationship with them. Rule seven, my mom would call it. Holding hands in some ways meant more to me than kissing. It was one of those tender affections I didn’t take lightly. I took his arm.

  I detected a hint of annoyance at my rebuff, but he quickly recovered. He had to keep up appearances. I could never live a life like his.

  “Was that so hard?” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  “You have no idea.” Especially when my hand finally got the message to my brain that we were touching. And it felt . . . it felt like the first time he touched me at the bookstore. Unbidden passion filled me that I’d never experienced except for that day. No. No. No. So his arm was solid and warm and when he brought his other hand over to rest it on top of my hand clutching his arm, feelings like I was reading that torrid love letter we’d never written, but apparently existed between us, rippled through me.

  It meant nothing. I was ovulating and I would admit I was attracted to him physically.

  I wanted to tell him to remove his hand that was now caressing mine ever so gently, but people were gaping at him and I didn’t want to do anything to disgrace Binary Search. But he really needed to stop doing that. It wasn’t fair to me. I reminded myself to be rational. I didn’t want the man who held me exactly like I wished to be held, as if he was proud I was on his arm. It had to be an act. He was playing a part and I was only the supporting actress.

  In real life, this man and I were completely incompatible. At work we called it statistically improbable. And he went against all my rules, except two. He was a good father and he made my spine shiver. That last one was a weird rule, I know. Nick was to blame for it. He would never know that, but I’d never forgotten how he’d made me feel outside the bookstore. I never wanted to because I wanted to feel that way again. Maybe it was silly, but there was something significant about it. Like this was how a man should be able to reach you. With a touch so deep that it reaches your spine, the very thing that controls most of your senses.

  The same kind of touch I was feeling now.

  I needed it. But not with Nick.

  “Relax,” Nick whispered.

  I realized I had an iron grip on his arm. I loosened my hold on him. “I don’t like being the center of attention,” I admitted.

  “Why? You look good on my arm.”

  His comment brought me back to where I needed to be. A good reminder of why he was the wrong kind of man for me, or anyone for that matter. “It’s all about you, right?”

  He turned his head toward me and I was hit with his eyes that said he didn’t appreciate my last comment. “I was trying—”

  “Nick, Nick, Nick,” a familiar voice called his name, interrupting his thought.

  A brief flash of annoyance zipped through his eyes before he reluctantly turned from me and put on his Hollywood charm. “Dana.”

  Dana wrapped her tentacles around him and suctioned him away from me. “Nick, you look amazing.”

  She did too. She was wearing a silver dress that shimmered and revealed that her bust was much bigger than mine. Her flawless skin glowed. She completely ignored me.

  Nick kissed her cheek. “I could say the same to you.”

  So he did know how to compliment a woman. I suppose it was just me he wouldn’t compliment. I begged myself not to begin comparing myself to the exotic looking beauty with a camera crew trailing behind her. I didn’t even care what Nick thought of me.

  I melted into the background and watched as more reporters clamored for his attention, asking for interviews and about his involvement with the charity. I should have felt relieved not to be in his company, but feelings of discontent began to surface. Hadn’t he invited me to come? Basically coerced me by getting Kenadie involved?

  Before my ire got worked up, I took control of the situation. I headed for the ballroom by myself. Nick obviously didn’t need my help and had forgotten about me. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.

  The ballroom looked like Las Vegas had exploded in it. Neon colors flashed in all directions. Laughter and loud music filled my ears. There was everything from blackjack tables to craps and roulette. The room was already filling up. It was nice to see so many police officers there in uniform. Too bad I didn’t date cops. Maybe I could find Trent. I headed to the check in table, not sure what else to do. Everyone else had tickets in their hands. Was I supposed to have a ticket? Could I purchase one? Maybe this wouldn’t be a long night after all. I mean, if I couldn’t get in, I couldn’t get in. And I certainly wasn’t going to go find Nick or drop his name. I’m sure if I said I was here with Nicholas Wells they would laugh at me and call security.

  With some trepidation, I approached the front of the line. The sweet looking woman asked, “Do you have a ticket, dear?”

  “You see, I’m here on behalf of the company I work for, Binary Search. I didn’t know I was supposed to have a ticket.”

  She gave me a warm smile. “That’s okay. What’s your name? Let’s see if you’re on our VIP list.”

  There was no way I was on that list, but I gave her my name anyway. It wasn’t going to hurt my feelings if I had to go home. “Kate Morgan.”

  She scanned her list. “There you are.”

  Bummer.

  She handed me a golden ticket. “If you take this to that table over there,” she pointed behind me, “they’ll give you your chips.”

  “Chips?”

  “You can use them to play any of the games. It’s all for fun, though. No real value to them.”

  “Oh.” I was so out of my element. “Thank you.”

  I looked around the room as I made it to the other table. It dawned on me I was in a room full of all the vices that many of my patients over the last few years had come to me seeking help for— gambling, alcohol, and sex. Not like anyone was having sex there. At least not that I could see, but believe me, I saw a whole lot of hooking up and sexually charged advances going on, thanks to alcohol, I’m sure. It’s why I never drank in these kinds of settings. Yes, it was a rule. I believe that was nineteen according to Mom.

  Once I got my bag of chips, I had no idea where to begin even if I wanted to. Gambling, even for fun, wasn’t really my thing. And I admit to scanning the room for Nick. A very small part of me thought perhaps he would come looking for me. I found him across the room near the stage ta
lking to none other than the governor of Georgia and the mayor of Atlanta. Even from a distance I could see it was a schmooze fest. A ridiculous number of pictures were being snapped. No one wanted to miss their photo op.

  With nothing better to do, well, at least nothing better to do there, I headed for one of the blackjack tables with an empty seat at the end. Seven of us sat around the semi-circle table with the dealer in the middle. All the dealers were wearing white shirts with black bowties. It was all so official. The dealer at our table was a middle-aged gentleman with a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes. He was flirty with the women and full of banter with the men. He sure handled cards like a pro. He dealt them faster than you could blink. I played a few rounds and even hit blackjack once. It was fun, but not something I wished to do all night.

  Once again, I looked for Nick. Surprisingly, he appeared to be looking for me from where he was near the bar area. It looked like he was going to make his way over to me, but he was stopped by a woman who I believed was the chief of police.

  I headed for the appetizers. Not that I could eat a lot in this dress, but I had nothing better to do. It was worth the walk over for the chocolate velvet mousse shooters. I may have eaten two, I was so bored. I gave up looking for Nick, but it didn’t matter; the attention was all on him as he walked up to the stage flanked with all the very important people in the room.

  The music ceased playing and the noise level dropped to a low hum. The governor was first to speak. It was flowery in true political style, but heartfelt when he spoke about the reason we were there for the night. The mayor’s speech was basically the same, but more directed toward those on the force in Atlanta. The police chief was more intimate, even getting teary eyed when she spoke of the fallen officers she had personally known and how each day the men and women in blue put it all on the line. She spoke of the sacrifices their families made. She had me tearing up. Then it was my date’s turn.

  More camera’s flashed for him than anyone. He dazzled up there under the bright lights. His smile was the perfect blend of brooding and I’m-honored-to-be-here. The ladies in the audience were eating it up. The number of selfies being taken with him in the background was embarrassing.