“Lucy?” Emma called through her bedroom door. “Are you ready? We need to get to the hospital.”
“I’ll be right down,” Lucy called as she rose from her dressing table.
She heard Emma’s heels on the hallway’s hardwood floor. But she didn’t turn to follow. Before she left her pink princess haven, before she did her part to entertain the children at the hospital, she needed to reclaim her smile.
She pressed her glove-clad palms against her dressing table and studied her reflection. Who was she? A woman who didn’t need Jared Mitchell.
But I want him.
She closed her eyes. She’d wanted her cheating ex too and look where that had landed her. Her stable future had been knocked off course. She owed it to herself to choose wisely next time.
“Jared’s a reckless choice,” she told the princess in the mirror. “He stays out of my bed.”
Rejected. Dismissed.
Jared turned the words over in his mind. On the mammoth, wall-mounted T.V., the Marlins’ pitcher threw a curve ball that didn’t come close to home plate. Great, they’d walked another player from . . . hell, he couldn’t remember which team his Miami Marlins were playing.
“Did you see that?” Finn demanded. Seated in the leather easy chair positioned at the head of the living room set up, Lucy’s brother leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
I can’t follow the game right now, Jared thought. I’m having a fucking vocabulary crisis.
“Ignored,” Jared murmured. That was the word. He’d left packs of juice at the princess palace five mornings in a row. He’d written notes and waited for Lucy to take him up on his offer and share a box of mixed berry. Then he’d kissed her breath—and the memory of her lunch date—away in the storage closet. He’d touched her. He’d felt her come alive with a desire that matched his.
But then she’d run.
And he hadn’t heard from her since. Not one damn word. He’d sent a text.
Are you ready to show me?
No response.
He’d sent another.
Lucy, can we talk?
Nothing.
Logic suggested he should move on. A dozen other women had reached out. He’d received everything from dinner invitations to old-fashioned booty calls. But he wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to know more about those women. He didn’t care about their latest trials at work.
Because I want to talk kids’ parties with Lucy.
“Did you say ignore it?” Finn picked up a longneck bottle from the coffee table. He held the beer to his lips and took a long drink. Lowering the bottle, he added, “How the hell am I suppose to ignore a pitch like that?”
“I wasn’t talking about the game.” Jared reached for his tumbler. He’d bypassed a Saturday afternoon beer in favor of tequila.
“No work,” Finn said. “Not while we’re watching baseball. You can bitch and moan about your sugar deal when it’s over. I was up at five this morning building a model. And I can tell you this one’s a shoe-in. I’ve lined it up perfectly for you. You can fly back to New York tomorrow, and we’ll still close the deal.”
Jared shook his head. “This isn’t about work.”
“If it’s not about baseball,” Finn growled. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m trying like hell to date your sister.”
There. He’d spread his cards on the table. Now it was Finn’s turn to make the next move. Eyeing the man who’d been his best friend since before either of them fully understood what those words meant, Jared downed the rest of his tequila. Then he poured another shot. If he was going to get his ass handed to him, he wanted to be drunk. Jared boxed and lifted weights. But Finn was built like a Viking warrior. And when he fought, which didn’t happen often, Finn usually won.
I can take him.
But that was probably the tequila talking now.
Finn leaned back in the leather recliner holding his beer in one hand. His blond hair matched his sister’s coloring, but he kept his cut short. His blue eyes appeared thoughtful—for now.
“Lucy,” Jared clarified.
“I only have one sister.” Finn’s brow furrowed. “She hasn’t said a word to me.”
Jared ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been leaving juice on her doorstep. She knows why.”
“But I don’t.” Finn set his drink on the side table. “Start at the beginning.”
Jared offered the cliffs notes version. He skimmed past the bad date that had homed in on her thighs. His friend let out a low, soft curse when Jared described Nick’s drunk dad hands. But Jared sidestepped the phrase “wild, bathroom sex,” and he didn’t go into details about how he’d pulled Lucy close when he’d rescued her.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Finn demanded when Jared paused for another tequila shot. “Leaving her juice? You need to up your game, not come on the field one level above the scum chasing her. You go all in when you’re after a company. You commit and stand by your word. That’s what Lucy deserves.” Finn leaned forward again. “Unless you’re playing with her—”
“I’m not.” Jared met Finn’s gaze. Nerves of fucking steel reinforced by tequila allowed him to say the next words. “I interrupted her lunch date yesterday and kissed the shit out of her in the storage closet. Afterward—” when I could still taste her—“she made it clear she’s not one of my affairs.”
Finn snorted.
Cheers erupted on the T.V., but his friend didn’t glance at the screen. Finn reached for the remote and turned off the game. Baseball came before business on weekends. But Jared had a feeling even Finn’s precious Marlins wouldn’t steal away his friend’s attention now.
“Affairs was her word,” Jared clarified. “Not mine.”
“You’re going all in,” Finn said, no question in his voice.
Jared nodded and reached for the tequila. “If she returns my texts.”
Lucy’s big brother leaned his head back and laughed. And hell, Jared would bet the sound resembled Finn’s warrior ancestors. “Maybe she doesn’t want you,” he said, still fucking smirking.
“She wants me,” Jared said flatly. He tossed back the shot and set the glass on the table next to the bottle. “She kissed me like she was one second away from . . . ”
Stripping off her clothes and fucking me in the closet.
Jared glanced at the tequila and then at Lucy’s brother. There wasn’t enough liquor in the sunny state of Florida to make him say those words to Finn.
“If you sleep with my sister,” Finn said softly. “You’d better be ready to make her dreams come true.”
Jared nodded. He’d known that from the minute he touched his lips to hers. If he pursued Lucy, he needed to transform her life into a fairy tale.
“But let me guess, Lucy is still twisted in knots about that jack-ass, Barrett.” Finn leaned back in his chair. “She doesn’t trust you’re in this. And shit, she doesn’t realize I’d kick your ass if you hurt her.”
“Is that a promise?” Jared asked.
“I’ll take you out.” Finn spoke in a low and lethal tone. “And then I’ll bring down the Mitchell Fund.”
“The hell you would. That’s your money too.”
“I’ve saved enough.” Finn offered a familiar grin, one Jared had seen him use to benefit their deals when they moved in for the kill. “But that’s not going to happen. You’re already all in. Leaving juice boxes at the princess lair.” His smile widened. “You should have come to me before you hit this point.”
“For your expert dating advice?”
“For my Lucy advice.”
“I could ask her girlfriends for that,” Jared pointed out. “I came to you so you’d hear it from me first. Not Minny or some other cook at The Taco Bar.”
Finn reached for his beer. “Minny knows you’re after her?”
Jared nodded. “I asked him to call whenever she goes on one of her blind dates. She still thinks the love of her life is waiting for her on Tinder.
”
Finn cocked his head. “Then get your ass on Tinder. Hell, join every dating site out there. Find her profile. Do your homework. Woo her.”
“Woo?” Jared choked back a laugh.
“I’m not the one who needs help convincing a smart, beautiful, single woman to settle down with me instead of some jerk cruising for his next lay online.” Finn pressed his palms together. “If you were acquiring a business, you’d get online and do your homework. You’d make your case until the company woke up to the fact that you’re their best bet. Same rules apply here. If you want to win her, you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes to make your case. You need an online dating profile.”
“No.” Jared pushed off the chair and headed for the condo’s kitchen. They needed more beer, a bag of chips, and a plan. “I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. Get a six-pack and your laptop.”
“You’re drunk,” Jared called over his shoulder. “Or lost your damn mind. I must have pushed you too hard on the sugar deal.”
“I’m closing the deal for you,” Finn shot back. “I’m not drunk yet, but you bet your ass I will be after creating the perfect hook to snag my sister. Hell, I should probably walk away.”
“Why aren’t you?” Jared opened the fridge and scanned the bottles lining the door. He selected two. If Finn was serious about this scheme . . . shit they needed to stay close to sober.
“She’s my family,” Finn said simply. “With Mom and Dad gone, I’m it. I’m all she has.”
Jared nodded. Finn’s dad had died their senior year from a heart attack while his mother battled breast cancer. Mrs. Linden had given up the fight after that. Finn’s mom had kept up the chemo treatments, but she’d lost her drive. She’d passed away a year later.
“She has the princesses,” Jared said.
“Yeah, I really want Belle and her man-hating friend giving Lucy advice.”
Jared walked back into the room and handed his friend a bottle. “Nicole hates men?”
“Like an ice queen.” Finn twisted off the top and set it on the table. “But Emma’s worse, always trying to play matchmaker and encouraging Lucy to keep looking for the perfect man.” Finn gave him a pointed look. “You’re the only guy I know worthy of my sister, and you’re sure as fuck not perfect.”
“I’m the only one you can threaten to beat the shit out of while tearing apart his company,” Jared said dryly.
“Nothing beats leverage.” Finn took a sip and then set his beer down. “Now get out your computer and find your best glamor shot.”
“You’re having too much fun with this.” But he pulled out his laptop.
“Setting up the deal is the exciting part,” Finn said. “It’s the day-to-day steering the ship that I hate. But that makes us a damn good team. Where do we start?”
“I need a picture with a girl I haven’t slept with.”
Finn raised his eyebrows. “What the hell?”
Jared handed over the laptop. “You can type while I explain the world of online dating according to Lucy. By the time I’m done, you’ll be jumping at the chance to work on financial models again.”
Chapter 8
“Holy arm porn!” Emma held out her laptop. “You need to see this.”
“You’re interrupting Gilmore Girls to look at profiles?” Perched in the armchair beside the worn, brown leather sofa, Nicole tossed a piece of popcorn at Emma.
I need a new Saturday night plan, Lucy thought. But she reached across the couch and took the laptop from her friend’s outstretched arms. After two birthday parties, Lucy wasn’t up for a night out. She’d rather indulge in a Gilmore Girls marathon with her friends.
And arm porn.
She studied the picture. The profile shot cut off the guy’s head and everything below the waist. But the sculpted lines of his bicep left her wishing she could reach through the computer and feel his skin. This mystery man’s flexed muscles could inspire serious fantasies. Strong arms lifting her, holding her close, pressing her against a wall, kissing her as if he’d never let go, would never want to let go. She wouldn’t want to release him either. Her fingers would dig into his toned biceps.
Just like the other day, in the storage closet. Only this time, it wouldn’t stop with a single kiss.
“No, no, no,” she muttered. She would not indulge in another Jared Mitchell fantasy.
“Don’t be so quick to reject him,” Emma scolded. “He hits almost all the marks.”
“I don’t have a Fated for Love account,” Lucy murmured scanning the unfamiliar webpage layout.
“I opened one for you,” Emma said easily. “Now, I don’t think you should judge a man entirely by his arms, but—”
“Axe murders probably have great arms,” Nicole said. “From lifting their murder weapons.”
“Shut up, Miss Sunshine.” Emma offered Nicole a chilling look.
“You know I’m right.” Nicole slid off the chair, made her way around the coffee table, and claimed the empty couch space. She stared at the scene over Lucy’s shoulder. “This guy has axe murderer written all over him.”
“She’s right.” Lucy looked up and gave Emma a pointed look. “I’ve scanned through all of his photos. Not a single shot of his face. And the one of him with the other girl? It’s weird. They don’t look like they know each other. She’s looking at the camera, but he’s staring out at the ocean.”
Emma plucked the TV remote off the coffee table and hit pause on Rory Gilmore. “Forget about the pictures for a minute,” she said. “Read what he wrote. Not the part about him. That makes him sound like every other suit working in an office. Although based on this, I think he might run the company. But never mind that. Scroll down to the ‘What I’m Looking For’ section.”
“Read it out loud,” Nicole demanded as she rifled through the nearly empty popcorn bowl.
“Passion,” Lucy began.
Nicole rolled her eyes. “He’s an axe murderer who wants to get laid.”
“A passion for work,” Lucy continued. “For life. For taking risks. For building a family. One day. Before we get there, I’m looking for long walks on the beach, shared jokes, romantic dinners, and last-minute getaways. I’m looking for that spark of magic that ignites desire. I want to find the one woman I can’t walk away from.”
Lucy glanced up from the screen. Her heart rate kicked up a notch, as if she’d run up a flight of stairs in heels. She glanced up at the top of the profile and read the name. Philip Ryder’s desire for passion matched hers. He’d spelled it out right there in his profile.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“He probably copied that out of Cosmo,” Nicole said. “One meal with Mr. Arm Porn, and you’ll discover his need for “passion” is linked to his desire for a slim, pretty girl with big boobs in his bed.”
“Or he’s the real deal,” Emma said. “There’s only one way to find out. Hit the heart button on his profile and send him a message. Wait and see if he responds.”
Lucy clicked on the heart, and a message box appeared. Fingers hovering over the keyboard, she stared at the blinking cursor. “What do I write? ‘I like your passion?’ That sounds wrong. And a little dirty.”
Emma closed her eyes. “Risk number one: writing this message.”
Lucy nodded and typed. “Risk number two: meeting in person. But first I need another picture. One that tells me more about you. I want to make sure our ‘passions’ match. Your Daring New Friend, Lucy.”
She reread the message one more time and hit send. “There. It’s done.”
“If he sends you a dick pic,” Nicole began.
“I’ll know I avoided another disaster date.” Lucy closed the computer.
“Unless he’s the size of a porn star.” Emma picked up the remote and hit play. “Then you should take him to The Taco Bar. Maybe sneak him into the back and confirm that he sent you a picture of his dick. If he did, there’s nothing wrong with a little physical passion.”
“If that’s
his response, I’ll ignore the message and move on.” Lucy set the computer on the coffee table. She turned her attention to the T.V. “I can’t slip into the back of Jared and Finn’s place to find out what my date is hiding in his boxers.”
I had my chance for that. And I stopped with a kiss.
From her brother’s best friend. A billionaire playboy. A man who thought that looking for “magic” on a first date was asking for the impossible. A man who kissed like he knew how to deliver passion.
But it was just a kiss, and it didn’t come with a guarantee of great sex.
Because I didn’t strip off his pants.
Yet.
And I won’t. I can’t. I’m going out with Mr. Arm Porn.
Philip Ryder sounded like her dream date. He’d cut to the heart of her hopes and dreams with one paragraph on a dating website. He hadn’t used full sentences. But still, it was exactly what she wanted to hear.
From Jared.
She reached for the popcorn bowl and stuffed a half-popped kernel in her mouth. Philip Ryder needed to send her a message. Now. Before she lost her mind over her brother’s best friend.
“Wake up.”
Lucy opened her eyes. The Gilmore Girls were still on the T.V., but she’d lost interest hours ago. Lifting her head off the plush throw pillow, she glanced around their living room. Nicole had passed out in the armchair. But Emma was hunched over her laptop, her legs folded underneath her.
Emma looked up from the screen. “He wrote back. And there’s a picture.”
“Of what?”
“I didn’t open it.” Emma held out the computer. “That’s personal. I don’t want to interfere.”
“That’s where you draw the line?” Lucy stretched her arms overhead as she sat up. Then she took the computer from her self-appointed matchmaker and clicked on the message.
Dear Daring Lucy,
I’ll match you risk for risk.
Risk one: sending this picture. You want to know something about me? I work hard and I love it. Some weeks, I live at my desk. But I play hard too.
The Cinderella Fantasy (Playing the Princess Book 1) Page 5
