Lucky 7 Brazen Bachelors Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Kristen’s brows quirked. “With who?”

  My heart rate picked up just thinking about him. “The bartender from the Geoffries hotel.”

  There, I’d said it. There was no turning back.

  Tonight, I’d ask Paul on a date. I just hoped he said yes.

  *

  After work, I strode into the Geoffries hotel to meet date number three. Yes, I’d picked the location but Kyle had asked where I wanted to go and the hotel seemed convenient since I needed to seal date number four as soon as possible (before I freaked out and changed my mind). It felt too impersonal to ask Paul out via telephone, which was why I’d arrived at the hotel early for my date.

  Checking my watch, my heels clicked across the lobby as I headed for the bar.

  “Kaitlin?”

  I stopped in the middle of the marble lobby, tingles running down my spine at the familiar male voice. I glanced over my shoulder and, sure enough, Paul stood behind the concierge desk wearing his sexy grin.

  I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face or the happiness that filled me at the sight of him. I walked over to the desk, then placed my purse on the counter. “What are you doing here?”

  His eyes crinkled. “Working.”

  “That’s obvious.” I laughed. “But what are you doing here at the concierge desk and not over there at the bar?”

  He leaned over the desk. “Filling in. Manuel has the night off.”

  Shooting him a questioning look, I teased, “Isn’t being a concierge a form of art? Like in that Michael J. Fox movie, For Love or Money?”

  He smirked. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

  “I’m not sure.” I leaned toward him and breathed in his spicy scent. “You do make a mean Geoffries Martini though.”

  “If you take a break from your date, I’ll have one here waiting for you,” he said, then straightened and stepped back.

  I frowned. “But—”

  “Kaitlin Murray?” a male voice said from behind me.

  I swiveled around. “Yes?”

  In front of me stood a tall, muscular, blond who could easily rival any Greek god. I take that back. With that crown of gold, athletic build, and sparkling green eyes, he might actually be a Greek god—if one had descended to Sacramento wearing a polo shirt, that is.

  “Kyle Harper.” He thrust his hand out. “I recognized you from the photo Ellen showed me.”

  Wow, Ellen hadn’t told me Kyle Harper was hot.

  “You’re early.” My forehead wrinkled at my date’s promptness. I hadn’t asked Paul out yet and what if he got off work before I had the chance? How late did a temp concierge work, anyway?

  When I continued to stand there, Kyle gave me an odd look. “Shall we go?”

  Since it seemed rude to ask him to hold on a sec while I checked to see if the concierge was free tomorrow night, I smiled politely. “Sure.”

  As we sauntered off, I glanced back at Paul and shot him an apologetic look. He did not, however, pass me a look of understanding. In fact, his jaw muscles tightened, and the usual glint in his eyes disappeared.

  *

  Kyle had made a reservation so we were seated right away in a corner table next to an indoor waterfall. When the waitress took our drink order, I asked for water only. I figured no drinks, no appetizer, and no dessert might speed this date up.

  Unfortunately, Kyle didn’t seem worried about time because he ordered a beer. Sigh.

  “How long have you known Ellen?” Kyle asked.

  “A few months.” I glanced behind me in the direction of the lobby as if I might be able to see Paul through some kind of x-ray vision. Didn’t work.

  Kyle opened his menu, but kept his eyes on me. “She said you two work together?”

  “Mmhmm.” I opened my own menu, chose the first thing I spotted, then shut it again. “You ready to order?”

  “Not quite yet,” he said, slowly. He gave me a curious look then began perusing the menu.

  After a few seconds, my knees started bouncing. Why was it taking Kyle forever to pick a dish? It’s not like the menu was that big. I eyed him closely, wondering if he’d notice if I sent a quick text under the table.

  He glanced up from his menu and caught me staring. Oh, yeah. He’d notice.

  “Everything all right, Kaitlin?”

  “Great.” I drummed my fingers against the table. “The shrimp scampi looks good.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” His brows rose as he turned back to the menu.

  The waitress arrived with our drinks. “Are you ready to order?”

  Kyle opened his mouth—

  “Yes, I’ll have the shrimp scampi please.” My head whipped to my date. “Kyle?”

  He set his menu down and leaned back. “May I hear your specials?”

  My neck stiffened. Did this guy have all the time in the world or what?

  “Excuse me a minute while I run to the … restroom.” I slid out of the booth and raced down the stairs before either could answer me. As I hurried toward the lobby, I straightened my silk top then ran my fingers down my hair as I tried to work up the courage to ask Paul on a date—if he hadn’t gotten off work, that is.

  I flew past the bar, down the corridor, and let out a sigh of relief when I spotted him behind the concierge desk. Another employee stood next to him and I recognized the woman from rappelling last night. Odd that she’d worked with him on the fifth floor and now happened to be working at the concierge desk with him today. She didn’t so much as glance at me as I trotted up, but then again she was helping a guest.

  “You’re back,” he said, when I stopped in front of him.

  “Sorry. My date arrived early.” I rolled my eyes in a way that said ‘whatever.’ “So we didn’t get to finish our conversation.”

  And I didn’t get to ask him out on a date yet. Gulp.

  His face relaxed and his mouth curved upward as he whipped out a martini glass and shaker from below his desk and poured me a pink drink that had to be a Geoffries Martini. “As promised.”

  Just what I needed to give my courage a little boost. “You are the most thoughtful concierge slash bartender ever.”

  He brushed his lips over my ear. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  A shiver ran through me. Oh wow.

  I brought the martini glass to my lips, sipped my drink, and the cold, sweet liquid rolled down my throat. “Delicious. What’s in it?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t tell you. It’s a Geoffries family secret.”

  I guffawed. “It’s not like the Geoffries are real people.”

  He chuckled. “You think they’re alien imposters?”

  “No.” I giggled. “I guess I never thought about it. I just drink at the hotel—”

  “And rappel …”

  “Exactly.” I touched his forearm and his ropey muscles flexed under my fingers.

  He glanced at my hand as I (regretfully) removed it from his arm. “I can tell you that this martini was named after Irene Geoffries. It’s her favorite drink, and her husband would bring her a glass every night while she cooked them dinner.”

  “Sounds romantic.” I took another sweet sip. “My husband would never do that for me because I rarely cook.”

  Had I just said husband? When had I put the idea of marriage back on the table?

  Paul reached out to play with a lock of my hair. “I’d bring you a drink every night. You could probably convince me to cook for you, too.”

  Staring into his ethereal eyes, my stomach flipped. I knew this was my chance. I mean, he must like me if he was twirling my hair between his manly fingers and offering (hypothetically) to bring me drinks à la romantic hotel magnate, Mr. Geoffries.

  I swallowed, then blurted. “Would you be my date number four tomorrow night?”

  Momentary surprise flickered across his face, then he shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  My heart sank. “Why not?”

  Hi
s eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you on a date right now?”

  “Oh, Kyle!” I drained half my martini, then set it back down. “I’d better get back because he was ordering dinner and—”

  “Wait.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out two tickets. “Want to go with me to the ballet tonight?”

  My head spun. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s just for fun. One of the perks of being concierge is that I have two extra tickets to see Cinderella.”

  I tilted my head. “You like the ballet?”

  His eyes held amusement. “Who doesn’t like the ballet?”

  Me, for one. The only time I’d gone was when my dad had taken me after my parents split and I’d spent the entire time trying not to cry. But that had been over a decade ago. And being next to Paul in a dark theatre didn’t exactly sound horrible. Maybe I could even let him know what he was missing by rejecting me… .

  I took a final sip of my Geoffries Martini (yum). “I’m in.”

  His face lit up. “Great. Meet here in an hour?”

  “All right.” I hurried across the lobby, past the bar, and up the stairs to the restaurant. I found Kyle leaning back in his seat with half his beer gone. “Sorry. That took longer than expected.”

  I cringed. That did not sound pretty.

  Kyle sipped his beer, then set it back down. “You’re obviously not interested in me, Kaitlin. That’s really okay—”

  “No, you’re great.” I shook my head quickly. “In fact, I’d love to set you up on a date with my friend Ginger.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Aren’t we on a date?”

  Oh, this was awkward.

  “Yes…” My voice trailed off and I cringed, realizing it was time to come clean. “I’m sorry, but I only agreed to go out with you because of my friends. I told them I wasn’t ready to date and they pushed me to get back in the game so I made a dating deal, which wasn’t fair to you. Then I met this guy who works for the hotel and I didn’t mean to, but I think I’ve fallen for him. You’re super nice and incredibly handsome and I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

  Instead of getting annoyed or angry, he laughed. “Handsome and nice? That has got to be the best rejection speech ever.”

  Feeling like a louse, I raised my brow. “You’re not upset?”

  “Actually, I am.” He flashed a smile, showing off his straight white teeth. “If you’re interested in this other guy, what are you doing here with me? Go get him, Kaitlin.”

  Who was I to argue with a Greek god?

  License to Date: Chapter Eight

  I stared at my reflection in the silver-framed mirror of the Geoffries hotel’s women’s lounge and touched up my lip-gloss. Remembering Paul’s kiss last night, I shivered. Why wouldn’t he go out with me? No guy could kiss like that if he wasn’t into someone. No way. At least I didn’t think so… .

  My wind chimes ring tone sounded so I pulled my cell out and glanced at the number. Mom. Since it was her second call today, I had to answer or she’d worry.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “I’ve been frantic all day, thank you very much.” There was a long pause. “Did you not receive my voicemail this morning?”

  The one she’d left about my date with Brian Burnside? “Yes, I got it.”

  Another pause. Mom loved to make people wait so she’d be sure to have our full attention. “Then why in the world haven’t you phoned me back?”

  “I’ve been busy.” That and I was afraid she’d seen the Internet photo and determined that kiss had not been with Brian. Gulp. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes, now that I know my daughter is still alive.” She waited a few beats. “I’m calling because I spoke with Alisha Burnside this morning. She told me Brian raved about his date with you last night and he very much wants to take you out again. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Not unless there was a new definition of the word. “I don’t think Brian’s my type, Mom.”

  “He’s handsome, kind, and comes from a good family. That’s exactly your type, dear.”

  Thinking of Kristen and how she’d stood up to her mom, I took a deep breath. “I’m actually interested in someone else.” Someone who’d rejected me and could very well be seeing a horde of other women, but still. “He’s sweet, charming, and has a great sense of humor.”

  Pause. “What’s he do for a living?”

  Ah, the bottom line. “He’s a bartender at the Geoffries hotel.”

  She gasped. “I think I’ve just had my first coronary attack.”

  I cringed. “Anyway, I have to go because he’s taking me to the ballet tonight. We’re seeing Cinderella.”

  “Darling, think of your future.” Mom took a deep breath. “Brian is stable, steady, and the better choice.”

  Not if I wanted someone to rappel down a building with me. Or make me smile… “Brian is nice and I’m sure he’ll make some woman very happy.”

  Someone woman who was not me.

  Short pause. “I told Alisha you would have dinner with Brian at the country club tomorrow night.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Why would you do that?”

  She huffed. “I thought you’d thank me.”

  “I’m twenty-eight years old, Mom!” I shrugged apologetically at a woman coming into the powder room to wash her hands, then I lowered my voice. “I do not need you making dates for me.”

  The silence at the other end of the line was deafening. “Maybe you didn’t hit it off right away with Brian, but what harm is there in giving him one more chance? For me?”

  I glanced up as the woman glided past me with a sympathetic smile. I sighed, then remembered my remodel. I did still need a date number four and Paul had turned me down. “All right. But no more fixing me up.”

  “Wonderful, dear. You won’t regret it.”

  Unfortunately, I already did.

  *

  When I arrived to the lobby, I found Paul chatting with his beautiful co-worker. He had a pen poised over a piece of paper, then he underlined something. As I approached, she glanced up at me with an odd look. Oh, great. Maybe she’d heard me ask him out earlier and also heard him reject me. If she was jonesing for him—as any sane woman would—she must be doing inner cartwheels right now.

  Although she wasn’t going to the ballet with him. Ha!

  Feeling like I was interrupting something, I smiled awkwardly. “Hi.”

  Paul’s head shot up. “Kaitlin? You’re early.”

  “If you need more time I can—”

  “No, it’s fine.” He folded the piece of paper. “Have you met Alice?”

  I shook my head. “Hi, Alice.”

  She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Kaitlin.”

  Paul handed Alice the paper. “You’ll take care of this for me?”

  “Right away.” She nodded. “Enjoy the ballet.”

  “We will.” He came around the desk, slipped his hand into mine, and winked at me. “How was your date?”

  My stomach flipped at the feel of his skin against mine. “Kyle’s handsome and nice. The perfect date.”

  For someone else.

  Paul’s forehead wrinkled as the lobby doors slid open and we turned right down the sidewalk. “Are you going out with him for date number four?”

  “No.” I watched the crinkle on his forehead disappear. “I’ve already filled date number four with someone else.”

  His hand tightened around mine and a line formed between his brows. “With who?”

  I bit my bottom lip, thoroughly confused. He was acting quite jealous for a guy who’d rejected me. “Brian Burnside.”

  He chuckled, his eyes lighting up. “Make sure you don’t take him above the first floor.”

  It was my turn for furrowed brows. “At least he’s willing to date me.”

  “And get you one step closer to free labor this weekend.” He stopped at the crosswalk. “Your friends still going to help you?”r />
  A car horn blared at a taxi as our pedestrian light illuminated. “Ginger’s in for sure. I’m worried about Kristen, though. Remember how I told you she’s getting married at the Geoffries in eighteen months?”

  He nodded. “Her mom insisted on the location, right? Wise choice, I might add.”

  “They do have an amazing staff.” Even if a certain bartender refused to officially date me. “But she’s decided to get married at Wok N’ Roll instead.”

  He strode into the Sacramento Community Theatre then let go of my hand and reached into his pocket for our tickets. “The Chinese restaurant? Why?”

  “They have availability in six weeks and that’s when she wants to marry Ethan.” I watched him hand two tickets to the usher, who gave him a program in exchange. “It makes me sad because I think she’ll regret it. She’s like me and wants the fairytale ending with the elegant white gown, music, to be surrounded by friends, and plumeria flowers,” I added, wistfully.

  He put his hand on the small of my back as we walked down the theatre aisle and the usher showed us to our seats. “Plumeria flowers?”

  My face heated. Had I said that aloud? “Well, maybe not for Kristen.”

  “But for you?” He nodded to the usher who had stopped in front of our row.

  I smiled at the usher, slipped into my seat, then promptly opened the program.

  Paul took his seat, turned toward me, then flipped the program closed. “Why plumeria flowers?”

  Looking into his deep, blue eyes compelled me to open up and tell him what I’d never told anyone before. “When I was twelve, my parents took me on vacation to Kauai. Have you ever been?”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. We had a condo on the ocean and I’d fall asleep listening to the waves crash against the shore. We snorkeled on the north shore of the island, boated along the Na Pali coast, strolled along the beaches, and inhaled the fragrant scent of plumeria flowers. It was the best week of my life … and the last time I felt safe and secure.” I closed my eyes and could almost feel transported there with the fragrant scent wafting up my nose. When I opened my eyes the lights in the theatre flashed on and off. “When we got home, my parents announced they were getting a divorce, and it felt like they’d yanked the rug out from under me. My dad moved out that weekend.”