Mister Romance (Masters of Love #1)

by Leisa Rayven

  I take a quick glance at Asha, who nods. “Uh ... yes,” I say. “Thanks for the tip about him. I think it would make a great story.”

  “No problem. And just so you know, if you need to, like, do some research or whatever, my cousin and her friends are having a big fundraiser thing next week, and I can totally get you an invite.”

  Now my gratitude is real. I know I told Max I’d stop investigating the identity of his clients, but if I happened to be at a party and some of them were there, and I just happened to run into them ... well, that’s just a good old-fashioned coincidence, isn’t it?

  “Wow, Joanna, that’s a great offer. Can I get back to you?”

  “Sure. I’ll RSVP that I’m bringing another guest just in case, and if you decide not to go, Asha can come instead. There’ll be some rich single dudes there. Maybe even royalty. You never know what could happen.”

  She lets go of my arm and shoves her purchases into her giant tote, and I realize Asha’s right – she’s not that bad. In fact, she might be useful in finding out some facts Max is hesitant to tell me.

  “Hey, Joanna,” I say. “Why don’t you come over to our place tomorrow night and get ready there? Ash can do your hair, and we can have cocktails before you guys go to the concert.”

  For a second, she looks shocked, but then her face breaks into a giant smile; a real one this time. “Are you serious? That would be ah-maaaaayzing! I’d love to! We’ll have such a good time!”

  “Great. We’ll see you around six?”

  “Yes! Perfect! See you then.”

  She’s just about vibrating with excitement as she waves goodbye and walks away.

  When she’s gone, Ash nudges me with her shoulder. “Aw, that was a nice thing to do. Are you getting soft in your old age?”

  I glare at her. “You shut your filthy mouth, Asha Rose. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

  * * *

  I’m weaving through the waning afternoon crowd with fresh coffee for me, Nan, and Asha when I get a text from Nannabeth.

 

  I groan and drop my head back. I wonder how much time I could waste if I went all the way around the other side of the markets to get back. The only trouble is, the coffee would be cold by then, and I’d have to make another run. Still, if it helped me avoid Little Nanna Matchmaker...

  I compromise by dawdling all the way back, and when I arrive, I’m relieved to see Nan is alone at the stall.

  “Awww,” I say. “I missed him? Total bummer.”

  I hand Nan a coffee, and she pats my forearm. “I’m immune to your sarcasm by now, dear, you should know that. Besides, he’ll be back. I’m going to sell some furniture for him next weekend, and he’s just gone away for a few minutes to organize someone to deliver it.”

  I look around. “Where’s Ash?”

  “Bathroom break, but she’s been gone longer than you. No doubt she’s found a clothing stall somewhere and is trawling it for vintage Valentino.”

  “Oh, well. Her loss.” I put Asha’s coffee on the table and sip mine. Ahhhh, sweet caffeine. Normally, I’d have had four or five by now, but this is only number two. My brain sighs in relief.

  When I look up, I see Nan’s smiling at me.

  “What?”

  She blinks, and I notice how her eyes are a touch misty. “Nothing. Just always surprises me how much you look like your mother when she was your age. Asha looks more like your dad, but you ... you’re a dead ringer for Liz.” She touches my face. “I wish she’d lived to see you girls grow into such beautiful young women.”

  I pat Nan’s hand and smile back as best as I can. Thinking about Mom always makes my throat tight. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Mom was too young to die, and Ash and I were too young to lose her. Everything should have been different. She shouldn’t have had to kill herself working two jobs to keep our heads above water, and Dad shouldn’t have been a Houdini husband who disappeared whenever it suited him.

  Ash blames it on them getting married too young, but I blame the swinging dick who broke Mom’s heart a little more each time he left.

  “You finished your coffee?” Nan asks.

  I take one final sip and nod.

  “Good. Then go take off your smartass pants and put on some lip gloss. I want you to look your best for when Sean gets back.”

  “Sure, Mah,” I say in my best redneck accent. “Ah’ll go pretty mahself up, so the hawt cowboy you wanna sell me to can check mah teef befow he rahds me!” I’m in the middle of a gross yokel guffaw when Nan’s eyes go wide as she focuses on a point over my shoulder.

  I stand up straight and drop the act. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

  Nan winces and nods.

  A deep voice says, “So, I’m the cowboy in this scenario? Do I have to wear chaps and a hat? Because as luck would have it, I own both.”

  The familiar resonance sends a shiver up my spine, and sure enough, when I turn I see Max standing there, an amused smirk on his face.

  What the hell is he doing here? Did he really go to all of the trouble of tracking down my grandmother, so he can recruit her in his quest to make me see the error of my anti-romance ways?

  A flush of anger fills me. Involving my Nan like this feels like a violation. He’s had the balls to lecture me several times about professional behavior, and then he does something like this? Not cool.

  “Oh, Sean,” Nan says as she sidles up to him. “There’s that sense of humor again. Women love witty men. By the way, this is my lovely granddaughter, Eden.” Nan smiles and through gritted teeth says, “Say hello, Eden.” Then she leans over and whispers, “Isn’t he handsome?”

  Max holds out his hand and acts innocent. “Very nice to meet you, Miss ... uh ... Eden.” It ridiculous how awkward he sounds calling me by my first name.

  I ignore his hand and go for a level-ten glare instead. “Oh, please ... Sean, is it? Feel free to call me Miss Tate.”

  “Or call her anytime!” Nan says with a giggle. “She’s single.” When neither Max nor I laugh, she glances between us. “Wait, do you two know each other?”

  “No,” I say. “I’ve never met Sean before. Wow, you’re a lawyer, huh? Impressive. Perhaps you can enlighten me – what can I do if a guy is stalking me?”

  “Well, first,” he says in his calmest voice, “you’d have to establish that his presence is nefarious and not just a coincidence.”

  “That’s unlikely.”

  “Not really. If two people live in the same area, it’s conceivable they’d run into each other from time to time.”

  “After not running into each other for years before that? Seems strange.”

  “Perhaps he’s recently moved to the area.”

  “And perhaps he’s full of horseshit.”

  He tilts his head. “Not bullshit?”

  “I thought horseshit would be more appropriate, considering the whole cowboy thing.”

  Nan continues watching us like a tennis match, until a couple of girls wearing flowers in their hair pick up some herbs and wave at her.

  “Well, if you’ll both excuse me,” she says, giving one more glance between us. “I have customers to attend to. Eden, don’t forget to get a contact number for Sean before he leaves. See you next weekend! We’re going to make you some money.”

  When she’s out of earshot, Max goes to say something, but I cut him off. “How dare you use my grandmother to get to me!”

  “Miss Tate –”

  “I mean, seriously. She’s an old woman whose only wish is to see me married off and churning out tiny, red-headed babies. She doesn’t need Sean the lawyer coming in here and being all tall and single.”

  “I didn’t –”

  “I know you’re probably nervous about convincing me that your whole romance shtick isn’t a con, but clearly we need to set some professional boundaries about how and when we contact each other, because I find this totally unacceptable. C
all me on the phone. Don’t just show up and charm my Nan into liking you.”

  “That wasn’t my –”

  “I can’t believe you’d just ...” I’m shocked into silence when Max takes a step well inside my buffer zone and whispers, “Miss Tate, if you don’t stop and listen for five seconds, I’m going to kiss the hell out of you in front of your gran then drop to one knee and propose. If you think she’s obsessed with marrying you off now, imagine what she’d be like after that.”

  He’s so close it takes me a second to get used to the heat of his proximity. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Keep talking and find out.”

  “You agreed you wouldn’t kiss me.”

  “On a date. Since we’re not on a date right now ...”

  “Seems like you’re just looking for an excuse to kiss me, Mr. Riley.”

  “I’m not, but if that’s what it takes to get a word in, I’m willing to take the hit.”

  Looking up at him like this is uncomfortable on my neck, but I’ll be damned if I’m the first one to step back.

  “Wow, you sweet talker. I can see what all the ladies see in you. I’m swooning so hard right now.”

  “I assume your failure to stop means you’d like to find out how my mouth tastes? Maybe it’s you who’s looking for an excuse.”

  I tell myself that threatening to shut someone up with a kiss should not be sexy. Unfortunately, my body doesn’t listen. He stares, waiting to find out what I’ll do, and I deliberately press my lips together to show him I’m done. I’m still not moving back, though. He can be the one to retreat.

  I hold my breath for the full three seconds he takes to register my compliance, and then exhale as he finally steps back.

  “Now,” he says, “if you care to know the truth, I came down here today because a friend recommended Nannabeth as someone who could sell secondhand furniture fast and for a decent price. I had no idea she was your grandmother, until I returned from my phone call to find you doing your best Jerry Lewis impersonation.”

  “It was Lucille Ball mixed with Holly Hunter, actually, but whatever.”

  “I know this may be hard to believe, Miss Tate, but my world doesn’t revolve around finding excuses to spend time with you. I have a life outside of my work and separate from your story, so if you’ve finished yelling at me, I have better things to do than stand here and argue.”

  He’s about to leave when I say, “Why are you selling your furniture?”

  He looks back at me and hesitates before saying, “For personal reasons.”

  “It just seems strange to me that someone who earns as much as you would need to sell furniture on the side.”

  “I inherited some pieces. I’d rather sell them through Nannabeth than worry about registering with a dealer or auction house.”

  “Because then you don’t have to give your real name?”

  “That’s part of it, yes.” He takes a step back. “Oh, and just so you’re clear on when and how I’m going to be contacting you in the near future, you’ll receive an email from me tomorrow about the etiquette of our upcoming dates. Please read the guidelines carefully and commit them to memory. I’ll call you tomorrow night to discuss them and answer any questions you might have.”

  I don’t know why I bristle from his assumption that I won’t have anything better to do on a Sunday night than talk to him, but I do, and without thinking too much about it I say, “I’m not available tomorrow night. I’m going to a concert.”

  He pushes his hands into his pockets. “Let me guess –Kingdom of Stone.”

  “How did you know?”

  He looks over at the line of clouds forming on the horizon. “I think half the women in Manhattan are going. I’d considered taking a client, but if you’re going to be there …”

  “You don’t think I could maintain a professional distance?”

  “I think it would be a challenge for you.”

  “Would you prefer it if I didn’t go?”

  He gives a one-shoulder shrug. “I won’t presume to tell you what to do, Miss Tate. I’ll make other arrangements.”

  “Don’t,” I say. Getting a chance to see him in action is too good to pass up. “I don’t care about the band, so don’t change your plans because of me. I have plenty of work I can do at home.”

  A look of relief settles on his face. “Okay. That’d be great. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Will you be available to talk Monday morning?”

  “Sure.”

  He walks over to the back of the tent and picks up a paper carry bag overflowing with fresh flowers. “Nannabeth stashed these for me earlier.”

  “They’re gorgeous,” I say. “Are they for a date?”

  He gives me a serene smile. “Goodbye, Miss Tate. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

  He walks down the aisle, and I’m ashamed to say I watch his back until he disappears.

  I’m still staring off into space when Asha gets back.

  “What did I miss?” she asks, carrying two bags filled with clothes. Guess Nan was right about where she’s been.

  “Could you call Joanna?” I say. “I’m going to need a ticket to that concert tomorrow night after all.”

  NINE

  Rock Shop

  “Eden, do you want another drink?” Asha ducks her head around my bedroom door and frowns when she sees me working on my laptop. “Hey, come on. It’s Sunday night. Time to kick back and let your hair down.”

  I gesture to the funky hairstyle she and Joanna inflicted upon me half-an-hour ago. My regular frizz has been flat-ironed into smooth, sexy curls. “It’s down, even though I would have rather put it in a ponytail and been done with it.”

  “Don’t be grumpy. We’re going to a club. You need to look club-hot.”

  “Is that different from normal-hot?”

  “Of course. How do you not know this?”

  “Because I don’t go to clubs.”

  “Okay, then just take my word for it. Do you want another cocktail? We have time for one more before we have to leave.”

  I look back at my computer screen and shake my head. “No, I’m good.”

  “K. Be ready to go in twenty.”

  “Will do.”

  When she leaves, I continue sifting through some of the information Toby sent me regarding the warehouse we found in Greenpoint. There’s so much stuff here, I don’t even know where to start. There are deeds to the building, leases, past tenants – but trying to find a thread that will lead me to Max’s real identity is like finding a needle in a haystack. He must have some connection to Reggie Baker, or else why was his name registered to the mailbox?

  I’m searching for more info on Reggie when an email alert pops up. I click it open.

  From: Maxwell Riley

  To: Eden Tate

  Subject: Behavioral Guidelines

  Date: Sunday May 7

  Dear Miss Tate,

  Further to our conversation yesterday, following is a list of guidelines to be used in our upcoming dates. Please do your best to strictly adhere to them.

  1. When you encounter me in the coming days, I may look/sound/act differently than you expect. Please respect the integrity of my characterization and do not block or dispute the information I give you. For any role-play to be successful, the participants need to suspend their disbelief. I know you’re a natural skeptic, so accepting me as a different character may be difficult, but I’d ask that you do your best to immerse yourself in the experience.

  2. Whatever character I choose for our date will be attracted to you. Please put your mistrust of me aside and accept the truth of that scenario. The only way for you to write a balanced article about me and my popularity is to fully understand my clients and their thinking, and that means opening your mind to a world of uplifting and life-affirming romance. Pretending and deception are two totally different beasts, and for you to understand why I believe my work isn’t immora
l, it’s important you learn the difference.

  3. Trying to break my concentration or pulling me out of my chosen character will not succeed. I advise you to mentally catalogue burning questions you have regarding my methods, and I will answer them in a separate interview session after the date. Addressing me as Max or breaking the illusion for any reason will result in the termination of the date, and our arrangement.

  4. Until we reach the end of this experiment, describing my methods to outsiders is strictly forbidden. I understand that your sister is privy to sensitive information regarding me and my identity, and that’s partly due to my choice to involve her in the Kieran scenario, but please, no one but her must know. By all means, keep notes of what you discover for the purposes of research, but make sure that research remains confidential.

  5. Our dates may involve physical contact. I want to reassure you that I will not force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I do not engage in, nor do I condone, sexual assault. I may have threatened to kiss you yesterday without your consent, but I had no intention of going through with it. To that end, if at any time you feel I am overstepping my bounds regarding intimate physical contact, simply use the word, ‘veto’, and I will stop. These experiences are designed to empower you, not make you feel threatened or frightened. If you are in extreme distress, saying veto three times in a row will immediately end the role play. Because you’ve made it clear that you do not wish to be kissed during our interactions, I will require a verbal directive from you to overturn this decision.

  6. As I’ve previously mentioned, clients are free to touch most of my body. This includes, but is not limited to, my face, hair, arms, chest, and back. You may not touch me below the waist without express verbal permission. Any violations of this guideline will result in the immediate termination of our date. I will also limit my physical interaction with you to the aforementioned areas. I will naturally refrain from touching your chest unless expressly invited to do so. Overt sexual contact is not part of my service. You may ask me to touch you in more intimate ways, but it will be at my sole discretion as to whether or not I comply. My decision on these matters is final. Prolonged or continued coercion on your part will result in the immediate termination of our date.