The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series

by Hilary Dartt

  “Me, too,” Jake said. “Now let’s eat. Because I do plan on making you work.”

  “Don’t you have electricity yet?”

  “Yeah, why? Oh, the candles. Yes, I just wanted to, you know, set the scene. For romance.”

  She laughed, and he said, “We’ll turn on the lights after we eat.”

  “Are you sure drinking wine is a good idea?” Delaney asked as Jake put slices of pizza onto paper towels and pushed one toward her.

  “Why not?” He shrugged. “I’m an artist, remember?”

  She took a sip of the wine he’d poured into a plastic cup. “I’m not, though.”

  “But you work with your hands.” He winked.

  Delaney looked around at the gallery space. The shiny concrete floors and visible ductwork gave it utilitarian feel, which would contrast nicely with Jake’s nature-inspired work. She couldn’t wait to see how it looked during the day, with sunlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “Ready for the big reveal?” Jake asked a few minutes later, as they gathered their trash into a bag.

  “That’s what I’ve been waiting for,” Delaney said.

  “This is for the back wall,” he said, prying the lid off a paint can to reveal a warm, brick red color.

  She clapped her hands together. “Love it. It’s perfect.”

  Together, they stretched a tarp out on the floor along the back wall, then set up their supplies. Jake plugged his phone into his stereo speakers and put on something acoustic. The strumming of the guitar was soothing. They began painting, Jake cutting in on the edges with a brush, and Delaney rolling the center.

  An hour later, they stood in the middle of the room, checking for streaks and spots where the paint was thin. Jake draped his arm around Delaney’s shoulders. She sighed, content. Even though she was exhausted, her body was buzzing with energy. She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t know what it was. She wanted Jake Rhoades, in her bed. Naked. Sweaty. On top of her.

  “We make a good team,” Jake said, halting her fantasy just as it was getting good.

  “Oh, yeah. We sure do,” Delaney said. She wondered if he could hear her thoughts.

  “Thanks for coming with me tonight,” he said.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “Want to come over for a bit? A night cap?”

  “I wouldn’t turn down some coffee,” he said.

  ***

  A few moments later, they arrived at Delaney’s house. While the coffee brewed, Delaney set mugs, creamer and a sugar bowl on a tray. As she carried the tray into the living room, she noticed Jake had abandoned his boots on the floor in the middle of the walkway. It was nice, she thought, having a man’s boots in her living room. She actually enjoyed pushing those boots out of the way with her sock-clad foot, and seeing his jacket hanging over the back of a dining room chair. They were small things, she knew. But they felt comfortable. She realized this was the first time she hadn’t felt like a man was preparing to pack up and hit the road at the first possible opportunity.

  Jake had stretched out on the couch, and she thought he’d fallen asleep. She set the tray on the coffee table, careful not to make any noise.

  “Come here,” Jake said.

  He pulled her down on top of him, and she propped herself up so she could look at him. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Delaney froze for the briefest second when she realized there was a man on her couch and he was looking at her, staring right into her eyes, like he might stay. Not on the couch, of course, but in her life.

  “Thanks again for coming with me today,” he said. “It was way more fun with you there.”

  “It was fun. And you’re welcome.”

  “We should shower,” he said.

  Delaney moaned in response.

  “Don’t like that idea?”

  “I love it,” she said.

  For half of a split second, Delaney experienced profound relief that she’d spent an entire morning scrubbing her house clean. When Jake ran his hands down her back, over her butt and back up to her shoulders, her insides quivered and she forgot all about her sponge and spray cleaner and led the way to the bathroom. He followed her. The coffee sat, perched on its pretty tray.

  Is this really about to happen?

  Delaney Collins was about to have sex with Jake Rhodes. Something inside her told her it was going to be delicious. Beyond delicious, like the fresh-baked rolls at the barbecue restaurant.

  Fresh-baked rolls? her inner voice demanded. More like chocolate cake.

  This was going to be different, and she was going to like it. Not just like it, she corrected herself. She’d waited for it for weeks. She was going to love it.

  She turned on the shower and from behind, Jake pulled her sweater over her head. She turned around and he pulled her t-shirt off, then unhooked her bra and cupped her breasts. Her knees went weak with desire. He moved with such tenderness that she found herself wanting to take her time, to savor every moment.

  Could it be like this all the time? Delaney had waited so long for this. Now that it was finally here, she felt like she wanted to burn each image into her mind. She unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and began pulling down his pants. He removed them completely. Jake pressed his mouth to hers.

  “I think it’s hot now,” she said against his mouth.

  “I assure you, it is,” he said.

  She giggled and pulled him into the shower, feeling a tremendous amount of anticipation and an unfamiliar level of calm. The hot spray massaged her shoulders, her scalp, her back. She could taste the sweat as the water rinsed it clean. All the while, Jake’s hands roamed over her bare skin, leaving tingling trails in their wake.

  “Soap?” he said.

  She handed him the body wash. He poured some into his palm and began rubbing her shoulders and arms. Her knees nearly buckled from pleasure.

  “Your turn.”

  She turned Jake around and worked the body wash into a rich lather on his back. As her hands made their way down to his waist, she reached around and grasped him. After letting her stroke him for a few seconds, he turned back around and said, “A shower’s worthless without a good shampoo.”

  His hands in her hair sent shivers of desire over her skin. She moaned as he kissed her neck while still working his fingertips over her scalp. He tipped her head back for a rinse and caressed her nipples while her eyes were closed.

  Weeks. Her body had begged for this for weeks. And now it was finally here.

  Again, she groaned. Her entire body pulsed with the deep wanting she’d begun to feel whenever they were close. She craved, more than anything, that intimate contact. Not just skin on skin, but the feeling that a man was invested. Jake moved closer to her, pressing his wet body against hers. Slick and warm, his mouth roamed over her face, her neck and her collarbone. She felt like she might explode.

  Maybe I should cool the water off.

  His hands were on her hips and she could feel him pressed against her. She wanted him. One little shift of her hips and he’d be inside her. She could almost feel it now, the slow, rhythmic movement.

  Without thinking, she reached back and turned the heat down. She felt his smile against her mouth.

  “Too hot?” he said.

  “You don’t even know.”

  ***

  The forecast had been right: sex with Jake Rhoades was absolutely incredible. Mind-blowing. Toe-curling. Delicious. As she basked in the afterglow, snuggled up to a damp Jake on her bed, she wondered why it had taken her so long to find a guy she really, truly liked – and felt attracted to at the same time. This was bliss.

  “So, tell me about your grand opening,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

  For a moment, Jake looked nervous. He shrugged.

  “Mingle, show people how we painted the walls. Most importantly, I need a beautiful woman. Arm candy. To take the attention off me. Tell me you’ll be there.”

  “Me? Of course I’ll be there. I co
uldn’t stay away.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Jake had requested a pre-Grand Opening Happy Hour date at Rowdy’s to relax his nerves. Delaney walked down the sidewalk, admiring the blossoms on the trees and the singing of the birds. In her lovesick daze, she didn’t even notice someone was standing on the sidewalk outside Rowdy’s until she ran right into her.

  “Delaney!”

  “Beth!”

  They hugged and Beth started to ask, “Have you cooked anything—”

  But when she got a good look at Delaney’s face, she narrowed her eyes and said: “It’s that Jake guy, isn’t it? You’re totally smitten.”

  Smiling, Delaney said, “What? I’m just going to meet someone for Happy Hour. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m meeting Josh. We’re having dinner next door.” She blushed.

  “Ah, I see,” Delaney said. “How’s that going?”

  “Great,” Beth said. “I mean, really great.”

  Now Delaney could see the goofy smile everyone had been accusing her of wearing. Beth’s face shone with pleasure.

  “Have you cooked for him?” Delaney asked.

  “Yes! But I totally burnt the roasted chicken.”

  They burst into giggles.

  “Have you cooked for the steamy stalker who was staring at you through the window that night? That guy you’re obviously smitten with?” Beth said.

  “I did. And I made roasted chicken, too. But I was so nervous I had to call in reinforcements.”

  Just then, Beth waved to someone behind Delaney. A handsome man with dark, curly hair, dazzling light brown eyes and smooth skin the color of coffee with cream put his arms around her waist and kissed her on the mouth.

  When they finally broke apart, Beth said, “Josh, meet Delaney, my cooking partner. Delaney, Josh.”

  “Ah, so you’re the woman who taught Beth how to cook a roasted chicken,” he said.

  Beth elbowed him. “And you’re the man who distracted me, causing me to forget to take it out of the oven before it burnt,” she said.

  Josh winked. Beth laughed and he grabbed her hand.

  “We’d better go,” Josh said. “Our reservations are in just a few minutes. It was so nice to meet you, Delaney.”

  “Yes, and maybe next time we’ll meet Mister Steamy Stalker,” Beth said.

  Beth and Delaney hugged again.

  “If you guys are done with dinner by seven, I’d love for you to be at Jake’s grand opening,” Delaney said. “It’s in that space off of Main Street, where the glass blowing studio was.”

  “We’ll stop by,” Beth said. “Josh can’t distract me at a restaurant.”

  “But I can try,” he said, giving Delaney a lascivious wink.

  Delaney shook her head as Beth and Josh walked away.

  “Smitten, huh?” Jake’s voice came from behind her. She jumped.

  “Eavesdropping, were you?”

  Delaney’s heart was beating so fast and hard she thought she might pass out from extreme embarrassment, even as Jake put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer, then kissed her on the nose.

  “Couldn’t help it. I came to have a beer, and here you were. Please tell me I’m the guy she’s referring to as Mister Steamy Stalker.”

  He kissed her again, on the lips this time. She wondered if he could feel her blushing. Surely the heat radiated off her skin.

  “Came to see me, huh?”

  “Well, I actually came to see if I could find a beautiful woman to stand next to at my opening tonight, and I lucked out. I think you’ll do.”

  “Perfect. Let’s grab that drink.”

  ***

  Jazz music played, wine glasses clinked and conversation flowed. Delaney kept one hand tucked into the crook of Jake’s elbow and the other clamped down on a glass of wine.

  “Pretty good party, eh?” Jenny whispered in Delaney’s ear an hour in. “Jake always knows how to throw ’em.”

  “Yeah,” Delaney said. We even got a few strangers off the street.”

  “Oh, good. Maybe this will be his big start. I can’t believe you thought I was his girlfriend.”

  Jake overheard her and gave her a playful punch on the arm. “Leave her alone, Caboose.”

  “It’s okay, really,” Delaney said. “I plead temporary insanity. I was blinded by jealousy.”

  Jenny shook her head. “That’s so cute. All right. I’ll leave you alone. I see a prospect over there.”

  She sauntered off, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, her gaze locked on a curly-haired man in a fleece jacket, jeans and hiking boots. Jake watched her sidle up to him and rolled his eyes.

  Beth and Josh, who’d walked in a few minutes before, were now standing off to one side admiring a glass vase. Beth looked over and gave Delaney a little wave. Summer and Josie stood with another pair of women, admiring one of Jake’s tables.

  Jake put his arm around Delaney’s shoulders.

  “I’m so relieved,” he said. “I was afraid nobody was going to show up. You’re really taking the pressure off.”

  “All you had to do was ask. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  As always on Thursday afternoons, Delaney sat at a high-top table at Rowdy’s with Summer and Josie.

  “I can’t believe you thought your dating system was fail-proof,” Josie said.

  “It was. Almost.”

  “Almost isn’t the same as fail-proof,” Summer said. “And stop whining!”

  “Hey, remember when this whole thing started and you guys told me I was going to be happier than ever?” Delaney said.

  “Yes,” Summer said. “And that you’d thank us?”

  “And worship us?” Josie said.

  “Yes,” Delaney said.

  “Well?” Josie said.

  “You were right,” Delaney said. “I am happier than ever. Thank you.”

  “You’re so welcome,” the girls said, and Josie added, “But do you worship us?”

  “I do,” Delaney said. “And, it looks like we’re all in a really good spot. “Josie, you’ve got the new job, Summer, your band is totally rockin’ it, and I’ve got Doctor Kat and Jake. Life is pretty good.”

  “Life is good,” Summer and Josie echoed.

  “I want to make a toast,” Delaney said. “To friends. You guys are the best in the world.”

  Summer and Josie leaned toward each other.

  “We really are,” Josie whispered. Summer nodded.

  “To friends,” they said. “Best friends.”

  THE END

  Thank you for reading!

  If you enjoyed “The Dating Intervention” and want to find out what happens next—with Josie and Summer, check out my Amazon author page to pre-order the next two books in The Intervention Series: Josie’s story, “The Marriage Intervention,” and Summer’s story, “The Motherhood Intervention.”

  “The Marriage Intervention”

  If Josie Garcia’s marriage were on the rocks, at least she could drink it like a vodka cranberry. Things are much worse than that. Lately, she and her husband Paul clash like peanut butter and pickles. To help repair her marriage, Josie’s best friends Delaney and Summer stage The Marriage Intervention, creating a set of rules designed to reignite the flame between Josie and Paul. The trouble is, Josie’s ex-lover (and current boss), Scott, is making things really hot at work. Scott has always been a secret-keeper, and now it’s Josie’s turn. Being a secret-keeper may cost Josie her marriage.

  “The Motherhood Intervention”

  With her fifth child on the way and her son’s heart surgery just around the corner, Summer Gray is already approaching her breaking point. Then her estranged mother shows up on her doorstep after fifteen years, claiming to want to rebuild their relationship. While struggling to forgive her mother for years of alcohol induced neglect, Summer daydreams of contracting a semi-serious illness or suffering nearly-life-threatening injuries so she can get a hospital stay-cation. H
er friends Delaney and Josie stage The Motherhood Intervention, hoping to help Summer rediscover the life she loves and forgive her in the process.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Hilary Dartt is a freelance writer specializing in direct response copywriting and editorial projects. She grew up among redwoods and hippies in Santa Cruz, California and graduate from Cal State Long Beach with a degree in Creative Writing. She then moved to Arizona’s high desert where she worked as a journalist before launching her freelance career. She lives with her family and an assortment of pets, including her Weimaraner, Leia and a flock of chickens. THE DATING INTERVENTION is her first novel, and the first installment of THE INTERVENTION SERIES.

  THE DATING INTERVENTION

  Hilary Dartt

  Copyright © 2015 Hilary Dartt

  All rights reserved.

  For my family.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The writing of any book is about so much more than the actual act of writing.It’s the culmination of years of dreaming, storytelling, plotting, planning, thinking, and, finally, doing.

  For many writers, that process begins in childhood, and it did for me, too.

  So to my parents, I owe tremendous gratitude for not only noticing my love of writing, but also for nurturing it for years. And an extra-big thank you to my mom for saying, over and over, “Just write a novel.” Haha, Mom. I finally did it.