Finn turned to her. His thumbs were hooked into his pockets. He leaned back against the counter—the picture-perfect, calm businessman. But she recognized the tension in her brother’s jaw. Still, the classic tuxedo was undeniably elegant on his tall, broad frame.
“Nice dress.” Finn inclined his head in her direction.
“Same L.B.D. I wear to every charity event that you drag me to,” Lucy said. “You should think about finding a real date. Emma could write up a profile for you.”
He snorted. “So I can hide from strange women in the kitchen of my own damn restaurant? Nah, sounds like a waste of time.”
“I’m not taking my next date to The Taco Bar.” Lucy moved around the kitchen filling her clutch with a spare lipstick, a few dollars from their cash jar, and a pack of tissues.
“What makes this one so special?” Finn demanded.
“Arm porn.” Nicole raised her hand to her mouth and issued a fake cough to cover the words.
“You’re watching porn now, Luc?” He cast a sidelong glance at Nicole. “I’ll take you up on that drink offer now.”
Nicole marched to the pantry and pulled out a mixed berry pouch. She tossed it across the kitchen to Finn.
He caught it and peeled off the straw. “Thanks.” He stabbed it into the top of the box. “I didn’t realize arm porn was a thing.”
“Shut up, Finn.” Lucy snapped her purse closed. “I’ll drive. You can drink that in the car.”
Her brother shook his head. “Open container laws.”
“Finn, it’s a freaking—”
“Where are you taking the guy with the great arms?” he asked. “I thought we had a deal. You could date the nut jobs that you met online as long as you went to The Taco Bar and Minny kept an eye out for you.”
“We’re meeting for a walk on the beach,” Lucy said.
“You responded to the potential axe murderer?” Nicole asked.
“This just gets better and better.” Finn looked pointedly at Nicole over the top of his juice. “How did this guy give off the murderer vibes?”
She ignored him. “Did you send another picture, Lucy?”
“Not this time,” she said.
Finn raised his eyebrows. “You sent Arm Porn pictures?”
“Just one.”
Without my shirt, she thought.
“Have you asked him what he does for a living?” Finn demanded. “Do you know if he lives in Florida full time?”
“Those are great first date questions.” Lucy headed for the door.
He drained his juice. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“That’s not up to you,” Lucy pointed out. “I know you paid a lot for these tickets. We don’t want to miss the cocktail hour.”
“It’s for a good cause. I don’t feel the need to get my money’s worth.” But Finn stood and headed in her direction. “What if this guy doesn’t want kids?”
“I’ll ask him on our date.” Lucy pulled open the back door. “After I get a good look at his face.”
“You’ve only seen his arms?” Finn challenged. “How the hell do you decide from a guy’s arms if he’s relationship material?”
“I’ve seen more than his arms, Finn. Now can we go?”
“Yeah.” Her brother placed his hand on the door and pushed it shut. “But I’m parked on the street out front.” He turned away. “When we get there, I need to talk to Jared.”
“You’re both going to this thing?” Her fingers dug into her clutch.
“One of our biggest clients throws this summer party to support the local food bank.” Finn continued down the hallway. “Jared is in town, so he needs to show up.”
Anticipation ricocheted through her. “Is he bringing a date?”
“No.” Finn glanced over his shoulder. “Why?”
Lucy shook her head, trying to dislodge the unwelcome memory of Jared’s lips. “I like to be prepared if I’m going to spend the evening making small talk with Jared’s latest fling while you guys discuss business.”
“He’s stag tonight,” he said. “I only have one question for him. It won’t take long.”
“You made one hell of a first impression,” Finn announced. “The princesses call you Mr. Arm Porn. And Nicole’s on the fence about whether you’re an axe murderer.”
Jared rested his forearms on the cement seawall and stared out at the breaking waves. “I have a date with your sister tomorrow night.” He glanced over at Finn. His partner—in business and dating profiles—held a wine glass in one hand. “Having second thoughts?”
“Fuck no.” Finn rested his wine on the wall. “I know you’re not an axe murderer. And if she’s willing to meet a man who refuses to send a picture of his face, but sends other shots—”
“She told you?” Jared pushed off the cement and stood up straight. “I guessed she would share the pics with her girlfriends, but not you.”
Finn raised his hands in the universal palms out gesture of surrender. “I don’t want to know anymore. Do me a favor and delete the images off your phone. I’d hate to borrow your cell, or hell your computer, and stumble on your naked ass. Or Lucy’s for that matter.”
“Done,” Jared said. His buddy cared deeply for Lucy. Enough to set this wild-ass plan into motion. But Finn knew where to draw the line. The pictures weren’t any of his friend’s business. Period. End of story. He wanted Lucy happy, not locked away in some freaking tower like the woman with the long hair.
“I have one question.” Finn reclaimed his wine. “What the hell do you plan to do when Lucy realizes you’re Mr. Arm Porn Ryder?”
“She’ll want an explanation. Once I confess, then I’m hoping she will forgive me.” Jared met Finn’s quizzical gaze. “There’s something there. But I needed to get her to the beach for that first date. I want her to know I’m serious.”
“Hope? That’s your plan?” Finn laughed. “How often do you walk into a meeting with a potential investor and hope they’ll hand over their cash? You don’t. You make damn sure they walk into that first meeting ready and willing to give you what you want.”
Jared nodded slowly. “I can’t keep teasing her with pictures that hide my face. She’ll get suspicious.”
“Nicole will probably run a background check and realize Philip Ryder doesn’t exist. Or if he does, he lives in Ohio. The way I see it, you have less than twenty-four hours to make damn sure she’s happy to see you tomorrow.” Finn stepped closer and slapped him on the back. “She’s at the bar right now.”
Jared turned away from the ocean. Through the private club’s glass windows, he spotted Lucy. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back. A strip of bare skin played peek-a-boo with her long locks. “Can you cover for me when the Tennyson heirs show up? I told Lou I would be here tonight. He’s planning to talk my ear off about potential investments.”
“You’re leaving?” Finn asked mildly.
“I’m borrowing your sister.” He was going to fix the problem before it rose up to bite him in the ass. “I’m going to ask for her help. But first . . . ” He pulled out his phone and started typing. “Mr. Arm Porn is sending another message.”
“You’re competing with yourself?”
“I prefer to think of it as setting myself up for success.” He hit send and then headed for the door.
He stepped inside the private club’s expansive dining room. The space was a riot of color. Peach walls, teal accents, starfish mounted to the ceiling—the event looked like an underwater banquet with enough food to feed an army. Too bad half of the well-dressed attendees were on life-long diets.
Skirting the crowd, he made his way to the bar. He plucked a bite-sized crab cake off the buffet as he breezed by and popped it into his mouth. When he reached his destination, he claimed the stool beside Lucy. He signaled the bartender and ordered a beer.
Then he turned to her. “You were right, Princess.”
Lucy arched an eyebrow. Her big blue eyes stared at him over the rim of her martini glass. �
��Say that again.”
“Not curious what you’re right about?” he asked.
“We’ll get to that.”
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off her shoulder. Then he leaned closer. She smelled like vanilla and fresh spring air—nothing like a woman who owned a pair of handcuffs. But then, things weren’t always what they seemed. With his lips mere inches from her ear, he murmured, “You were right, Lucy. Everyone needs saving eventually. And tonight, I need you to rescue me.”
Chapter 11
Lucy mentally paged through her portfolio of smiles and came up empty. She’d watched Jared’s winding approach in the mirror mounted behind the bar. He’d glided through the crowd, plucking food from the buffet before moving on. He’d walked as if he expected the other guests to clear a path for him—and then admire his perfect, rich backside as he walked past them.
A man like Jared Mitchell didn’t need saving. Not tonight. And probably not in the future.
But he wanted to score a win after Lucy had walked away from him at his restaurant. She slid off her stool and claimed her drink from the bar’s polished wood surface. “I’ll play along, Jared. But I can’t sneak off to the kitchen, or into the supply closet.”
Her phone pinged from her handbag. She set it on the bar and released the clasp. Withdrawing her cell, she glanced at the Fated for Love alert.
A new message from Philip Ryder.
Perfect timing.
She set down her drink and opened the link to Fated for Love.
Dear Naughty in Pink,
I’m at a work event and I can’t stop thinking about your pink handcuffs. Have you used them before?
Your handcuff-obsessed suitor,
Philip
She read the words a second time. Why did he want to know? Beneath his amazing muscles and pitch-perfect words, was he a possessive jerk? Was that why he was still single? Or was he into super-kinky sex?
Oh God, what if I’ve met a real life Christian Grey?
“Lucy?” Jared’s voice cut through the sexy, yet scary mental picture. She liked the idea of toys, but she’d stopped wearing corsets beneath her fitted costumes because she found them too painful and restrictive. She wasn’t interested in pain mixed with pleasure. Still, the idea of the handcuffs intrigued her. Or maybe it was just the man in the picture . . .
She slid her phone back into her purse. “Work email. I’ll reply later.”
“Bullshit,” he said mildly.
She met his playful, seemingly all-knowing gaze. “You think I’m lying about an email?”
“I know you are,” he said simply. “Your cheeks turned pink, and your eyes widened.”
“Fine. You’re right.” She ignored the of-course-I-am gleam in his eyes. “I’m seeing someone.”
“Last week’s lunch date?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He hasn’t been to The Taco Bar.”
He moved to her side and placed his hand on her elbow. “You can tell me all about him while we walk.” He guided her away from the bar. “But in about thirty seconds, you need to put your rescue plans into action.”
“I don’t have a plan. And you don’t need saving.”
“The Tennyson heirs are here.” He scanned the crowd. “Somewhere. When they find me, they’ll ask about the sugar deal. When I tell them that it’s in flux, they’ll share their opinion on every other possible investment.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here? To listen to your investors?”
“Your brother has it covered.” He stepped away from the bar, drawing her with him. “At least the first shift. I’ll probably need to shake their hands and listen for a while. But I’d rather wait until they’ve had a few.”
She smiled and nodded at a familiar face across the room. Delaney Mayor waved back. But when Lucy stepped forward to greet her friend and longtime client, Jared led her in the opposite direction. “You’re using me to manipulate a client, Jared. This is about work. You don’t need to be saved.”
“You’re rescuing me from at least thirty minutes of boredom,” he said.
“How noble of me,” she murmured.
Jared steered her through the double doors and into the country club’s quiet hallway. Ten paces down the corridor, he turned right and led her into the library.
“They lit the fire?” Lucy stared at the leaping flames on the far side of the small room. Lined with bookcases and filled with a pair of ornate loveseats, the room looked out of place for south Florida.
“Ambiance.” Jared released her arm and strolled over to the sitting area.
“It’s June in South Florida.”
He sank into the loveseat and leaned back. His blue eyes focused on her. Out of all the people in the room next door, clamoring for a chance to talk to the bored bachelor, she had Jared Mitchell’s complete attention.
“Relax, Lucy.”
I can’t around you!
She wished she could shout at him. Ever since he’d kissed her, ever since he’d dangled the possibility of becoming one of his girlfriends by stealing her away from her date, she’d let herself want him. Not a lot. She knew better. But just a little.
He nodded to the open doors. “I need to give Finn twenty minutes, maybe a little longer, to handle business out there.”
She abandoned her fight-or-flight pose in the doorway and joined him in the sitting area. But she claimed the couch opposite him. The wooden coffee table offered a solid barrier between them.
Still, he was close enough to touch. Her stomach spun as if invaded by cartoon butterflies. She closed her eyes, blocking out the intimate setting and the ridiculous fire.
I’ve known Jared my entire life, she thought. He ate dinner at our house at least four nights a week when I was a kid. I shouldn’t be nervous. Not around him.
But they weren’t children anymore. He wasn’t her brother’s friend who’d come to dinner and inhaled his meal as if he’d skipped breakfast and lunch.
I can’t go back to the B.S.C.K.—Before Storage Closet Kiss—time.
She opened her eyes and withdrew her phone from her purse. She couldn’t go back to B.S.C.K., but she could move forward. Her thumb unlocked the device and Philip Ryder’s message appeared. She started typing.
Dear Handcuff Obsessed,
I’ll be honest with you. I’m a handcuff virgin. Is that a deal breaker, Mr. Ryder?
Yours truly,
Lucy
She hit send and glanced up. On the opposite couch, Jared adjusted his position. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone.
“My brother?” she asked.
Jared nodded slowly. “He says I should remain hidden for a while longer.” He pocketed the phone without typing a response. “Save me from boredom and tell me about your new boyfriend.”
“He’s not my . . . That is, I haven’t met him yet,” she muttered. “At least not in person.”
“That hurts, Lucy. You kissed me like the sky was falling,” he said. “And yet, you’d walk away for a man you haven’t met?”
“I just rescued you,” she pointed out.
“You could ask for a favor.” His lips curved into a smile. “In repayment for the rescue.”
“You’re toying with me again.” She sat up straight and crossed her ankles beneath the long, black dress.
“No, I’m not.”
She bit back the inclination to shout ”Are to!” into the quiet library. Instead, she sat up straighter. “I would like a thousand shares of the sugar company if you take it public.”
He leaned his head back and laughed. “Well played, Lucy. The shares are yours provided we close the deal. You don’t need to wait until we go public. I’ll have the agreement drafted next week.”
Heat rose up in her cheeks. “I’m not a plaything, Jared. Don’t tease me,” she said sharply.
“I’m not. I’ll pay the price you set for your daring rescue.”
“Jared—”
“Your job’s not over yet.” He nodded
to the door. “Any minute the people I’m trying to avoid could walk down that hall. Do you have a plan if that happens?”
“I’ll think of something,” she said dryly. Then she took another sip of her drink. “When will the sugar deal close?”
“Another week. Maybe two.”
“Then you’ll head back to New York?” she asked.
“That’s the current plan. I have a company in New Jersey that needs my attention.” He leaned forward. “Now tell me about your mystery man. Is he magical?”
“Yes.”
The muscle in Jared’s jaw jumped. Jealousy? She cocked her head and studied his expression. The reaction felt too small for such a large emotion.
“Philip wants the same things,” she said. “Unless he’s lying. If Nicole’s right and he’s a murderer, well, we have different priorities.”
He nodded. The fleeting inkling of jealousy had vanished. “Trust your gut, Lucy.”
She uncrossed her ankles and leaned forward. Her palms pressed into the sofa on either side of her thighs. How could he talk about kissing her and then tell her to believe Philip Ryder could deliver magic?
“Now you want me to go out with him?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
Her fingers dug into the couch cushion. She fought the urge to reach for her drink and down the rest of her martini. If she listened to her gut, it would list the reasons Jared Mitchell wanted to play a new role in her life. He’d left more than three-dozen juice boxes on her doorstep. He’d interrupted her date. He’d kissed her.
“I think you know what you want, Lucy. You should go after it.” He tipped back his beer and took a long drink. Then he lowered it and added, “Find the magic. If it exists for anyone, you’re it.”
She met his gaze, staring straight into his bright, blue eyes. “Because I wear a costume to work?”
He stood and walked over to her. His fingers grazed her cheek and then tucked under her chin and raised it. “You’re more than a Cinderella fantasy. More than any man’s dream date. Don’t get me wrong. You are one hell of a fantasy.”
“Jared,” she said sharply. He needed to be quiet right now. Her emotions were seesawing between excitement and indignation. She didn’t want to hear words designed to turn her into a simpering, wanting mess—not from him.
The Cinderella Fantasy (Playing the Princess Book 1) Page 7