Con Man: Complete Series Box Set: A Bad Boy Romance

by Parker, M. S.

  She laugh-giggle-snorted and spoke with the cheer of the very drunk. “Told him you were single, but picky. Lived like a nun… mostly.” She snickered. “You weren’t a nun last week.”

  Her head fell back, eyes drooping. For a second, I thought she’d fallen asleep, but then she cracked one eye open. “Oh. He’s…I remember now. I’ve seen him before. He’s…”

  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and my heart gave a funny little skip. “…Right behind me.”

  Edward grinned apologetically. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that, I just wanted to make sure I caught you before you left.”

  “Um, thanks. Have a good night.” I realized I sounded rude, but I had no idea what to say. It was his fault for catching me off guard. I was a writer, not into improv. I needed time to edit or I said stupid shit. Case in point.

  “See, I told you!” Kendra called from the interior of the SUV. “She’s picky!”

  I shot her a glare even though she couldn’t see me. “Ignore her, please.”

  He held out his hand. A small crowd of party guests went by and called out goodbyes to him, but he just waved without taking his eyes off me. Nervously, feeling silly as I stood there holding my borrowed shoes, I went to step off the curb and then stopped, stepping back into them. I wobbled a bit and he was there to steady me.

  “It always amazes me how women can make it look so easy to walk in those things.”

  I shot him a look. “You clearly haven’t seen me walking then.”

  “Oh, I have.” He smiled slowly. “I’m still amazed.”

  Still holding onto my hand, he led me to the other side of the car and opened the door, helping me inside. He didn’t let go. Kendra’s eyes drifted closed and I sat there, not knowing what to do, sure I would screw everything up at any moment.

  “I can’t let you leave without you giving me your number.” He finally released my hand, but he didn’t close the door.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Please.” He gave me another charming smile. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

  Chapter Six

  In the blinding morning light, I realized the end of the night was probably a champagne-fueled dream. It was entirely possible that my over-active imagination made up the pleasant story in place of reality. In real life, Kendra had gotten sick halfway home and there had been nothing of the entire ride that had smacked of a fairytale. She was going to be pissed when she got the bill from the car company. And when she saw her purse.

  The driver had helped me get Kendra upstairs and dump her on the couch. I’d made sure she was on her side, put a wastebasket next to the couch, and draped a blanket over her. All I remembered after that was turning the volume all the way up on my phone and falling asleep with my make-up still on. I was pretty sure I’d managed to get my dress off.

  Now, as I pried my sticky eyes open, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming in through the window, I was certain I had imagined Edward. There was a good possibility that, when she regained consciousness, Kendra would tell me I’d spent the night talking to a palm tree or other inanimate object. I hadn’t thought I’d been that drunk, but I must have been. How else could I make up something like the scenario that was running through my head?

  Why would Prince Charming want my number?

  I made it up. Okay. I know that so I can cut the disappointment short here and now.

  Since I’d made it up, it wasn’t like I was really expecting him to call, right? Of course, even if he was real, guys never really followed through on that kind of thing.

  “No wonder I’m losing faith in love.”

  Of course, speaking out loud made me lose faith in life—it just about made my head fall off.

  Oh, yeah. I’d had too much to drink last night.

  Then my phone rang, proving that point yet again as the sound cut through my head like an icepick, an icepick driven through by a sledgehammer.

  “Make it stop!” Kendra cried from the couch.

  I rolled out of bed, ignored my churning stomach, and crawled across the floor, digging under the rejected outfits from last’s night party preparations. Push-up bras, sequin dresses, costume jewelry, and a feather boa, but no phone.

  “Make it stop!”

  “I can’t find it. It’s like a drag show dressing room in here.” I winced as the phone rang again. Why had I turned up the ringer volume?

  Kendra knocked over a stack of bangle bracelets and grabbed my phone off the coffee table. She flung it towards my door and rolled over, groaning as she did so.

  “Hello?” I said breathlessly, not bothering to look at the caller ID before answering.

  “Good morning, Gabriella, this is Edward.”

  “You’re kidding.” I closed my eyes. I was such an idiot.

  “Kind of an odd joke, don’t you think?” He sounded amused.

  “I thought I dreamt you. Not all of you, just the last part when you asked for my number.” Oh, man…Gabs, just shut up! I shot Kendra a look. Was she awake? Coherent? She needed to be so she could stop me from saying stupid things.

  “It was pretty late.”

  “Or early, depending on how you look at it,” I said. “It’s still early.”

  “Depending on how you look at it, I suppose.”

  Now I was sure he was trying not to laugh at me.

  “It’s one in the afternoon.”

  He let me take that in for a few seconds. I squinted at the clock, unable to read the time. Oh, hell…I’m going blind! I swatted a hand at the face of it and then fought a hysterical giggle when I realized there was a silk stocking covering it.

  “One o’clock,” I mumbled.

  “One o’clock.”

  Head pounding, I crawled back to my bed and leaned against it.

  “How about dinner tonight? Nothing fancy, just a local place I love. I’d like to spend more time with you.”

  I thought about the hours of recovery time dinner afforded me, plus the time I would need to shower and pull myself back together. I didn’t let myself think about anything else. If I tried to figure out why he’d asked me out or what tonight meant, my head was going to explode. It felt like it might do that anyway.

  “Dinner sounds great. Can we say eight o’clock?”

  “Perfect,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  Carefully, I lowered the phone back down and then my head. I needed a few more minutes. Just a few.

  I ended up taking thirty and then had to all but crawl into the bathroom in a desperate search for something to help the headache. That done, I started chugging water and braced myself.

  Next, I had to get Kendra up, because if I was going to be presentable by eight, I needed her help.

  * * *

  According to Kendra, a ‘nothing fancy’ date was actually harder than finding something to wear to a clearly defined event. Kendra and I faced my closet for a good five minutes before either of us spoke.

  “How many sport coats do you own?” she asked, a pained expression on her face.

  “That was my Tina Fey phase.” I sighed. “It’s a good look though. Maybe I should go with that tonight?”

  “Gabriella, it’s a date, not a business lunch. You have to show a little leg.”

  I sat down on the edge of my bed as Kendra started searching through the closet. I knew better than to get in her way when she was like this. Her expression was a varying range of disgust as she examined and tossed things aside. Some of the colors made her wince, a few textures made her shake her hand as if a snake had bitten her, and one blouse had her snickering for a good minute before she tossed it down and went back to mocking my wardrobe.

  Scowling, I asked, “Are my clothes really that funny?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at me cheerfully as she pulled something out and studied it.

  “That’s it.” I reached behind me and grabbed my phone. “I’m calling the date off.”

  “No!” She came striding to me, al
l leg and smiles and dumped an armful of possibilities on my bed. “You’re going on your date and you’re going to look beautiful.”

  “A date.” I sighed, still clutching my phone. “I’m still kind of trying to wrap my head around that this is a date. Doesn’t seem believable.”

  “What I can’t believe is that I didn’t get to meet this guy. He sounds delicious. Are you sure he works in the industry?”

  “You met him twice, party girl,” I said with a grin. “Man, were you really that drunk?”

  She grimaced. “I didn’t eat much yesterday. Nervous, excited. That and the champagne…”

  “Well, he seemed pretty popular at the party. A lot of people seemed to know who he was, but I’m not sure what he does.”

  “Well,” said Kendra, “that’s the perfect topic for a first date.”

  “You know I have been on dates before, right?”

  She laughed and pulled me up to see the selection she’d laid out next to me on the bed. Somehow she’d found a black pencil skirt I’d forgotten I owned and she’d paired it with a bright green silk blouse and black sequined cardigan. My other choices included a blue sheath dress that made me look like someone’s secretary or a cream-colored strapless dress with a lace overlay that she’d layered with a cropped denim jacket.

  “Oooh, wait!” She practically squealed. “I have the perfect boots!”

  I was already in the cream-colored dress when she brought in a pair of calf-high leather boots. The satin and lace of the dress dressed up the denim coat and the snug boots gave me just the right amount of country style to feel exactly like myself.

  “Oh, Gabs, you look fantastic.” She smiled at me in delight. Then she pointed a finger toward the bathroom. “Okay. Into the bathroom. Shower, hair, shave. You know the drill.”

  I rolled my eyes even as I eyed the clock. It was almost four. Picking out an outfit had taken nearly an hour. “Again…I’ve been on dates before.”

  But I followed the drill sergeant’s orders and marched on.

  * * *

  Three hours later, I was giving myself a manicure. My toes were done. I’d even taken a forty minute nap on Kendra’s advice. You need more water, some juice and get some more ibuprofen in your system—it will help with the hangover.

  She’d done the same and it seemed to have helped both of us.

  She was painting her toenails lime green.

  Mine were a more sedate shade of coral, the same color as the glossy sheen I was applying to my nails.

  “So how did you run into this guy?” she asked.

  “He found me.” I grinned up at her as I went to get more polish. “I thought he was looking to get the goods on you, but he asked me to dance and when he was done, he went over and talked to you. Apparently, he was pumping you for information about me instead of the other way around.”

  Kendra frowned. “You act like you never have guys showing interest, Gabs. I’ve had plenty of guys approach me about you before, and you know it. You’re just…picky?”

  Remembering Flynn, I decided I really needed to focus on my nails. “Not picky enough,” I muttered.

  “Hey.”

  I just shook my head.

  She came over to me and sat down, absently fanning a hand back and forth. Sighing, I looked up at her. “Everybody runs into a bastard now and then,” she said quietly.

  “I know.” I forced a smile. “I’m done thinking about him. Not like I’m going to see him anymore, right?”

  I was going to focus on Edward now.

  * * *

  It was seven-fifty and I was in the bathroom, looping a couple strands of freshwater pearls around my neck. They’d been Kendra’s grandmother’s. A critical study in the mirror didn’t set my nerves at ease any.

  “You ready?”

  “I’m dressed,” I told Kendra. “Am I ready? Not sure.”

  The buzzer sounded and I jumped.

  “Too bad.” She grinned at me and went off to hit the intercom. “She’ll be right down.”

  Then she grinned at me. “Go get ‘em, girl. If he’s hot and you plan on spending the night, just call me.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I did the whole get laid without strings thing, and I didn’t like it.” I didn’t add that it was just the afterwards part I didn’t like. The sex itself had been amazing. “From here on out, it’s about the romance.”

  She rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything as I left the apartment.

  I’d already decided if Edward wasn’t up to the task of wooing me, then I would be home and in bed with a steamy romance novel by ten o’clock.

  Better a fictional man I could count on than a real one I couldn’t. I wasn’t in the mood to play around.

  A grin spread across my face when I found him waiting at the door, holding it open for me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Outside, his driver opened the town car door for us and I couldn’t resist the impulse to ask, “So your last name is Charming, right? Like the prince?”

  “Exactly.” He said, grinning. “If my Cinderella likes Indian food. If not, then you’re in the wrong carriage.”

  I smiled. “I love it.” A weird sense of giddiness welled up inside me and I had to fight not to let any of it show on my face. I made do with a smile that hopefully didn’t look too insanely happy.

  The Lotus Chaat House was a narrow slot of a restaurant jammed in between an all-night bakery and a bodega that advertised the best churros in New York City. The town car slid up to the curve right in front of the jutting awning and the driver hopped out to open the door. I stepped out and looked up at the paint-peeling Taj Mahal sign with some trepidation. Not exactly what I’d expected, though it certainly wasn’t fancy.

  “Don’t worry, just wait until you see inside,” he promised.

  The windows were steamed up, so I had to take Edward at his word and let him escort me inside. As soon as I stepped through the door, I knew he was right. The restaurant was magic. Beyond the heavenly scent of warm naan, the small alley-like restaurant was criss-crossed with so many strings of twinkle lights it glowed. The tiny starry bulbs were so thick across the ceiling that no other lights were used except small red glass jars with flickering candles on each of the tables. The golden-yellow walls were covered in shelves chock full of shining statuettes and lotus flowers.

  “And the food’s good too,” Edward said, leaning close so he could speak in a low voice.

  A smiling woman in a pink sari greeted Edward like an old friend before shooing us over to a table and clapping her hands at two waiters. If she hadn’t been old enough to be his mother, I might’ve been jealous.

  “It is so nice to see you, Mr. Edward, and you brought someone!” She beamed at me. “He used to eat alone. I told him I have three nieces that would be happy to join him, but he always declined. Now I know why—you are so beautiful!”

  I was pleased to see Edward blush slightly at the sweet teasing. It made me feel better about my own red cheeks. Even though the space between the tables was minuscule, he still managed to pull my chair out for me. I sat down and wondered how exactly he had made a perfect cozy and romantic restaurant appear out of thin air. I could practically hear the romantic comedy love theme starting to play in the background.

  A plate of naan and three small dishes of different chutneys were on the table when I managed to break out of my inner movie. Another smiling waiter uncorked a bottle of chardonnay and poured us each a glass.

  “I took the liberty of pre-ordering some of my favorites,” Edward said. He didn’t seem to have noticed my little space-out. “But please pick anything off the menu you want.”

  I smiled. “Did you happen to order coconut curry? Maybe some lamb vindaloo?”

  “I did.”

  “Then I’m a happy girl.”

  We clinked our wine glasses together and each took a drink. The alcohol warmed me, helping me to relax.

  “Try the mango chutney,” he said. “It’s the perfect m
ix of sweet and spice.”

  He tore off a piece of the still warm bread and dipped it in the first small dish before leaning over and holding it out to me. I savored the sting of spices mellowed by the bright sugary taste of mango, the flavors bursting across my taste buds as I took a bite of the bread he’d offered.

  His eyes warmed as I licked the crumbs from my lips and my heart kicked up.

  “Tell me what you do during the day, Prince Charming,” I asked.

  “I wear a suit and a tie and stand in an office wishing I was here with you.”

  I felt my cheeks turn pink and made a mental note to write that line down when I got home. It should’ve made me roll my eyes, but there was no doubting his sincerity.

  “So, do you love your work?” As much as I liked what he’d said, I wanted to know more about him.

  “I do,” he admitted. “It’s the family business so it sort of runs itself. I’m actually more of a referee between the shareholders, but I’m happy. How about you?”

  “Well, I’m leagues away from anything to do with shareholders,” I said. “I’m an assistant to a screenwriter. Or, as I like to call it, a personal slave to a psycho.” I laughed, but I was only half-joking. My boss was a nightmare.

  “Exciting then?”

  “Oh, yes,” I agreed. “I never know if it’s going to be a quiet day fetching coffee or I’ll be spending an hour on the phone searching for double-chocolate strawberry expresso beans.”

  He laughed. “That does sound exciting. Are those even a real thing?”

  I shrugged and took a drink. “I don’t know. I’m still searching for them.”

  We both laughed and I realized I was seriously considering transitioning into a heavily censored version of my foray into hand modeling when a plate of samosas arrived and we both eyed them hungrily. I watched him crunch into the flaky crust and close his eyes as he chewed the mouth-watering mix of spiced ground beef and peas. With his eyes closed, I was able to get a good look at him without him knowing.

  He was wearing a navy blue suit, but this time without a tie and, in the twinkling glow of the restaurant, he looked relaxed and happy. I noticed his light brown hair was sun-streaked and the open collar of his shirt showed a muscular and tan chest. His eyes opened and I turned my attention to my own plate.