And one girlfriend to the next.
“You’re right.” Lucy glanced at the pantry. Four early morning deliveries hid behind the sugar. And she suspected he’d personally dropped off each one. She doubted he’d trust one of his employees to swing by her house before dawn and leave a child’s drink with a handwritten note inviting her join him for a box.
If she agreed, he’d deliver fireworks on their first date. After the way he’d drawn her close at the Morgan party, she knew his kiss would be magical from start to finish. There was no doubt that Jared Mitchell checked a handful of boxes on her mental list.
But does he want to get to know me? Not as his friend’s little sister, or the party princess, but as the woman drowning in hope that she will find her happy-ever-after. Even though I have every reason not to believe in love.
“Of course, I’m right.” Emma held out her hand again and wiggled her fingers. “Now hand over your phone so I can get to work on your dating profiles. We need to find a guy that will help you forget all about Jared Mitchell.”
Impossible.
But she handed over her phone. “Just so we’re clear, I still want a man drawn to the idea of wild sex.”
Emma didn’t look up from the screen as she typed. “Looking for a gorgeous man who wants to have shower sex with me every day for the rest of his life.” She glanced up. “If we publish this, I bet every guy in south Florida looking to hook up for a night or two will contact you. We need to get creative. Subtly reference that your dream date needs to deliver in the bedroom.”
“But before the clothes come off, I want to see his true colors. Kind, smart, funny.” Lucy stood and headed for the fridge. “I’ll break out the bubbly and make mimosas. We can sip while you write.”
An hour later, Lucy’s finger hovered over the publish button. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“No, I’m pretty certain there are laws about creating a dating profile while under the influence.” Emma was sprawled across the loveseat. Her head rested on the arm, and her legs dangled over the opposite edge. She twirled a champagne flute between her fingers. “But as your dating advisor—”
“My what?” Lucy reached for her glass and drained the last of the bubbly drink.
“I feel this profile makes what you’re looking for abundantly clear,” Emma continued.
Lucy frowned. “Fifteen minutes ago, you said I sounded like a sex addict who hates men.”
“We fixed that part.” Emma swung her legs down. “Go ahead and send it out to the world. You’ll see. Your prince will come. And he’ll show up ready to make your dreams a reality.”
“Or I’ll find myself eating dinner in Minny’s kitchen five nights a week to escape my future dates,” Lucy said dryly, her finger still hovering over the publish button.
“There are worst fates than free tacos and fresh guacamole.”
Lucy lowered her phone and met her friend’s gaze. “Don’t you ever wonder how all this became so hard?”
“You mean dating?”
Lucy nodded.
Emma swirled her remaining bubbly. The mixed berry juice gave the drink a surreal purple color. “Honestly?” Her friend looked up from her drink. “When Barrett broke your heart and shattered your trust. Your ex opened your eyes to the fact that even the ones we think we know can’t be trusted.”
“So dating is a piece of cake for you.”
“No.” Emma returned her gaze to her drink. “But my heartbreak is not as fresh. And it helps that I don’t want the same things you want. Except for the shower sex. I want that. Once you find the love of your life, maybe I’ll take your billionaire for a test drive.”
No. He’s mine.
She silenced the thought. He wasn’t hers. She didn’t want the playboy.
“I’m kidding, Lucy.”
She exhaled and allowed the relief to wash over her.
Emma rose from the loveseat and plucked the phone from her hand. “Are you ready to hit publish? Or should I raid the kitchen for another bottle?”
She stared at Emma’s finger hovering over the submit button on her new and improved profile. She wanted to believe that in the end, it would all be worth it. The bad dates. The awful men. The liars and cheats. The heartbreak.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Do it. Publish the new and improved Lucy Linden profile.”
Chapter 6
Jared stepped off the elevator on the top floor. The Mitchell Fund’s West Palm office space offered a serene view of the Intracoastal Waterway, Palm Beach Island, and the vast ocean beyond the sliver of expensive real estate. He headed for the young guy manning the reception desk as if he were running a space mission. Coulter ran the Florida operation during the day and attended law school at night. And he probably knew more about the sugar deal than Jared at this point.
“Good morning,” Coulter said as he held out a stack of message slips piled on top of a folder. “Minny’s called twice this morning. He claims it is urgent. I told him that if he was calling about avocados again, then he should speak with the restaurant manager. You’re the owner and don’t have time for—”
“Get him on the phone.” Jared pivoted away from reception and headed for his office. “Has Finn rolled in yet?”
“He called from his car,” Coulter reported. “He’s having breakfast with DeVilla Sugar’s middle management team this morning.”
“Right.” Jared gave the receptionist a curt nod and walked into his office. A wall of floor to ceiling windows offered a view of West Palm Beach. He’d given Finn the ocean-view office because his friend spent more time there.
Jared preferred Manhattan. The city moved at a different pace, buzzing and pulsing with determination. Compared to New York, the sunshine state felt like a permanent vacation. Warm, fun, sexy.
Fuck me, that’s Lucy. Not the entire state of Florida.
He claimed the high-back, leather chair positioned in front of the glass-top desk. He’d left six packs of juice on the princess’s doorstep, but he hadn’t heard a word from Lucy. He should let it go. Let her go. He was leaving after the sugar deal closed. He would return to Manhattan and stay there until Thanksgiving. Maybe longer if his mom was up for a visit.
If his pet acquisition, the company that had put their fund on the superstar map, needed him, he’d be on a plane to New York before they closed the deal with DeVilla. Sure, he had a team for the other companies. But he handled the New Jersey-based software group. Each new product Tico Software Services launched brought in millions. He couldn’t afford to hand over the reigns to anyone. Not even Finn.
The light flashed on his phone, signaling a waiting call.
“Minny,” Jared barked as he plucked the receiver from his desk.
“Mr. Morgan, I checked the reservation book this morning like you asked.” The sous chef spoke quickly. “Lucy’s coming in today for lunch. Table for two at noon.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll be here?” Minny asked.
“Yes. And I’ll make damn sure you get those extra avocados.”
Jared nodded to the hostess as he walked into the restaurant. Her eyes widened, and she dropped her pen. He looked past her, scanning the seating area. Businessmen accounted for seventy percent of the lunchtime rush. Most sat with their ties tossed over one shoulder as they dug into their messy enchiladas or overstuffed burritos. There were a few tables with younger faces, teenagers or college kids home for the summer. And in the corner, near the kitchen, sat Lucy.
He kept his gaze fixed on her two-top as he stalked through the dining room. She wore a pale pink skirt and short-sleeve, white, lacey shirt. A white tank top hid her bra from view, but he hoped her underwear matched the top layer. Not that he expected a private showing of her bra after she ditched her date.
But her date’s not getting a peek either.
The slim, tall man sitting across from Lucy looked terrified. He kept his eyes on his food and nodded as Lucy spoke. She smiled gently as if trying to coax the guy
out of his shell.
Not going to happen. I bet he’ll faint at the first mention of shower sex.
Lucy glanced up from her date. Her blue eyes locked with his and then narrowed. She didn’t need to say a word. Her thoughts were written in her piercing stare and pursed lips. He’d pissed off little Lucy Linden, and now she wanted him to turn around and walk away.
He mouthed a one-word reply. No. She’d come to his restaurant. His territory. He wasn’t leaving. Her date might be harmless, but that didn’t change the fact that this shy, young man wasn’t a match for Lucy.
He grinned and slowed his pace. Navigating through the crowded tables, he didn’t look away. And he didn’t bother masking his desire. She wanted magic? A spark? He would deliver.
When he pulled her close. When he ran his hands over her curves. When he kissed her.
He watched as her lips parted. It was as if she understood the subtle change from “if I kiss you” to “when I claim your mouth.” But she didn’t look away. He drew close enough that he could reach out and pull her away from her lunch date. Her eyes widened and then slid lower. Hell, she looked like she wanted to mentally record every detail. His lips. His broad shoulders dressed in a white button-down, open at the collar. His cock, hard beneath his thousand-dollar suit pants. He slowed his pace and let her look.
Forget leaving a shoe behind. He would imprint the image of what she could have if she accepted his invitation to share a damn juice box.
And a helluva lot more.
He walked by her table. The contact snapped as he turned his attention to the double doors. He pushed through the servers’ entrance and marched into the kitchen.
“Thanks for the avocados, boss.” Minny looked up from the line and reached for a plate sitting beneath the heat lamps. “Have some enchiladas while you wait.”
“I won’t be waiting long.”
Minny shrugged and turned his attention back to the dish in front of him. “She made it past the guacamole this time.”
“She feels sorry for the guy.”
“If you say so,” Minny murmured. He sprinkled cilantro over a burrito and lifted the plate to the service area. Jared watched as a waiter pushed into the kitchen followed by one pissed off patron.
“What are you doing here?” Lucy hissed as the kitchen door swung closed behind her. “I’m not accepting another pack of juice—”
“I’m here for you.” He took her hand and led her away from the bustling, hot kitchen filled with cooks pretending to ignore them. He guided her past the walk-in fridge and freezer.
He had waited for Lucy to call and offer to meet him at the beach. He’d waited to hear her voice and make her laugh. And while he’d sat on the sidelines, she’d set up another date. She had every right to go after the happy-ever-after that defied the limits of the real world. She’d end up disappointed by the lack of first date fireworks. Didn’t change the fact that it was her choice.
But I want her to choose me.
That detail had solidified into a hard truth while he’d waited for her to pick up the damn phone. To hell with the fact that she was his friend’s sister. To hell with the fact that he lived in New York. He could deliver magic—in the bedroom. And he could convince her that was all the spark she needed right now.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” she asked. “Making your millions? Securing your sugar deal?”
“Your brother’s got it covered today.” He opened the door to the storage room and pulled her inside. Shelves lined the dark space. He reached for the light switch as the door locked out the rest of the world. The florescent strips flickered on overhead, and he turned to her.
She pulled her hand free from his and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She wore the white lace shirt like body armor. “And if I tell Finn you spent your lunch hour interrupting my date?”
“Your date was over.” He stepped closer and inhaled her sweet vanilla scent. “What you tell your brother, that’s up to you.”
“So you didn’t drive over here on some misguided rescue mission?”
He raised his hand to her cheek and brushed his fingers over her skin. “I came here to kiss you.”
Her lips parted as if her body had jumped on board with his plan. Only he hadn’t come to the restaurant hoping for a make-out session in the storage closet. He’d needed to see her and talk to her. “I left you notes with the juice. You didn’t call.”
“Some men would take that as a sign. Some men would think hmm, maybe she doesn’t want a kiss,” she said.
“Then tell me.” He lowered his hand. “Tell me to leave.”
He steeled himself for rejection. It was her choice. He might force the question, but if she said no . . . He’d take the hit and walk away. He’d return to the things he could fix. His companies. His deals. And he’d leave Cinderella alone. He’d let her find her own way to the logical path that spelled out the truth about relationships—they were built on desire, trust, and circumstance. No magic required.
“Lucy?” he growled.
“I’m not in your league.”
Her whisper filled the space. His nostrils flared. A surge of adrenaline demanded that he reach for her.
Not in my fucking league?
The words roared in his mind as he placed his left hand on her waist. His fingers dug into the delicate lace. His other hand reached for her chin and tipped it up.
“And,” she continued, because hell, there had to be an “and.”
“I’m not—”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he demanded. His lips hovered inches from hers. He was ready to claim her now. “Lucy—”
“Yes.”
He pressed his lips to her. He’d planned to start slow. Hell, he’d mastered the gentle slide into passion. The first taste . . . the first touch . . . the swell of need . . . the loss of coherent thought . . .
He inhaled her.
His tongue swept into her mouth and tangled with hers. He pressed hard as his hand glided around her waist to her lower back. She drew closer. Her body aligned with his. The lacy fabric covering her chest touched his shirt. Their clothes rubbed against each other, the friction mirroring their locked lips.
She kissed him back as if she could find her precious magic in his lips—in his touch.
I’d bet my fortune the prince never kissed Cinderella like this.
Holding her close, he stepped forward, backing her up against the bare strip of wall beside the door. Her hips rocked against him. Her hands moved over his arms, her fingers pressing, kneading, and demanding more.
He dismissed oxygen. He chose this raw, hot need. And fuck, he wanted more. So damn much more.
She tore her lips away and left him sucking in the air.
“Lucy,” he growled. His lips touched her cheek. He ran his hand up her side and felt the swell of her breast. Then he drew back and ran his finger over her cheek. He touched her chin and silently asked her to look at him.
She ignored him. “I’m not one of your toys,” she said, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “I’m not an affair.”
He let out a low laugh. Her sharp, accusatory gaze met his.
But hell, affairs? His relationships, his hook-ups and one-night stands paled in comparison to a single Lucy Linden kiss. The word affairs suggested a forbidden act. But he couldn’t recall craving those women. He didn’t need them. And he’d never gone out of his way to leave a gift on their doorstep every morning for a week.
“I know, Lucy,” he said. “I know.”
“No, Jared. I don’t think you do.” She shook her head as she reached for the door. Her fingers struggled to turn the knob. “Or we wouldn’t be here. Like this.”
That’s exactly why we’re here. Because I can’t walk away from wanting you.
“Show me who you are,” he said simply.
Lucy’s lips parted. But she wasn’t inviting a kiss. Not this time. He waited for her to tell him off.
“I can’t,” she said softly.
&nbs
p; Then she slipped from his arms and escaped into the hall.
And he let her go. A weight settled in the pit of his stomach. He balled his hand and pressed his fist against the storage room wall. He’d found a woman he wanted beyond a date, a night, or a stolen kiss.
But one barrier after another stood in his path. First, Finn’s sister should be off-limits. Second, she was hell-bent on dating someone else. And third, after her ex’s royal fuck-up, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.
“You’re mine, Lucy. I’m going to jump over every damn obstacle to fix whatever that jerk did to leave you so damn lost.”
Chapter 7
Lucy slipped her fingers into the long, white glove. She drew the fabric to her elbow and studied her appearance in the vanity mirror.
Freshly laundered ball gown? Check.
French twist? Check.
Rosy cheeks? Perfect.
Smile?
Her lips formed a pained grimace.
If you messed with my smile, Jared Mitchell, I’ll . . .
But the threat faded as quickly as it had appeared. He hadn’t stolen her princess grin with a single kiss. He had shocked her back to life and opened her eyes. He’d left her wanting a fairy tale that would never be written—the playboy billionaire bachelor and the girl with the broken heart.
“That’s me,” she told the mirror. “You want to know who I am Jared Mitchell? I’m the one who knows better than to trust you.”
Even if you deliver fireworks in a storage closet.
And oh, Heaven help her. If one kiss left her raw with pure, electric lust, the grand finale would blow her away. One kiss and she knew a single night in his bed would redefine magic.
But once he fixed her definition of “fireworks” to match his, he’d walk away. She’d watched him for years. He solved problems, rebuilding companies only to move on when the transformation was complete. He spent more time on his work deals than on the women in his life. Still, she suspected that it didn’t take long to upend his former girlfriends’ worlds. He’d turned hers upside down and inside out with a single kiss.
The Cinderella Fantasy Page 4