Shit, she’s going to ask for a selfie. The thought zoomed through his head the split second it took her to take out her phone. But instead of pointing it at him, her finger slid across the screen and tapped at it. She stopped and studied whatever she’d pulled up for a few seconds before nodding with satisfaction, and then she looked back at him.
"And you are the Brad Jones I’m looking for." She held out her phone toward him. "We met on the Dating Is Fun online dating app and made arrangements to meet at the resort today. I'm really happy to finally meet you in person."
Her smile hit him fair and square in his groin, his cock twitching at the thought of her perfect lips finding their way all over his body.
Hold up there, cowboy. Think with your brain, not your dick.
With his blood returning in a northerly direction, the implication of her words hit him. They'd met through a dating app?
Impossible.
In what universe would he ever use an online dating site? Since his show had become so popular and he’d become a household name, getting dates hadn't been an issue. If anything, finding a real relationship had become a nightmare.
However, this Caryn Stapleton seemed to think they’d organized a date. Against his better judgment, he held out his hand for her phone. “May I?”
“Sure.” She passed the phone over to him, her fingers brushing his, and warmth stole through him, making him imagine things he shouldn’t be with a woman playing a game with him.
“Thanks.”
There in full color, taking up the majority of her phone screen, was his publicity photo looking back at him, with the name Brad Jones—Accountant next to it.
What the hell? Was this some kind of new way to try to get him to date a complete stranger? Get caught up in some scandal that would wreak havoc on his career?
Anger sizzled into his blood, replacing the irrational lust he’d experienced from her light touch. Tom clenched his hand tighter around his drink.
Nope.
Not happening. He wouldn't let it.
"Right, well," he started, cleared his throat in an attempt to swallow his anger, and tried again. "I think there's be—"
"Stop." Caryn held up her hand in front of his face. She wasn't quick enough to hide the flush of red blooming her cheeks or the way her whole happy and excited demeanor deflated like air rushing out of a balloon. "Don't say anymore. I understand. I won't bother you again."
Before he could stop her, she turned on her heel and began walking out of the bar, her skirt swaying in time with the movement of her hips. He sat there for a full ten seconds, watching her retreating back. Someone had used his picture on an online dating site and had lured an innocent woman to this resort—if that was, in fact, what this was and not some elaborate scheme to lure him into some sort of dating trap.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Having never been confronted with a situation like this, he wasn’t sure what to do. But he couldn't let her walk away. Nor would it be right to play along, deceive her that he was this Brad Jones. But he had to do something to see if he could find the underlying cause of why his face was being used by some other dude. And if that was the only reason he went after her, then it was a good one.
Tom couldn't place where he’d heard her accent before, but it wasn’t from the United States. Shit. What if she’d traveled halfway across the world to meet a jerk who’d catfished her? That would suck.
That had to be it. It made perfect sense as to why someone was using his photo on their personal dating bio. Oh, he knew it happened, people being tricked by other people. He’d gotten sucked into watching an episode of a reality show revealing people doing exactly what this Brad Jones was doing to Caryn. How many other women had he’d done this to? How many unsuspecting women expected to meet him, Tom Carrington, television personality? Being so well known, he was surprised some genius paparazzi hadn't picked up on the fact his face was being used to lure women into thinking they were going to meet him for a date and ran a story on it. He needed to call his agent first thing in the morning to get someone to look into it. It had to stop now.
But having a plan for tomorrow didn't solve the problem of the woman walking away from him this evening. Without a second thought, Tom propelled off the stool and strode quickly toward her, his large footsteps eating up the distance between them, He reached her just as she was about to walk out.
"Wait, Caryn."
She stopped but kept her back toward him as her lemony scent floated over him. It seemed wrong to want to touch her, considering they'd met not five minutes ago; however, he could see by the way her shoulders moved that she was taking some deep breaths. It wouldn't surprise him if, when she turned around, tears were glistening in her eyes.
It took every ounce of strength he had not to reach out and cup her elbow to bring her around to face him. Instead he took half a step closer and leaned down to speak quietly in her ear.
"Turn around."
A few heartbeats passed before she finally faced him. He took a step back at the disappointment in her eyes, as though she had fully expected this Brad Jones to let her down. Again he quelled the urge to hold her close.
"What?" she demanded. "You've already given me one brush off—you plan to do it again?"
From this angle, he could have a better look at her than the fleeting glance he'd given her when she’d arrived at the bar. Her midnight-black hair was in a sexy side ponytail with wispy tendrils curling around her neck, and tiny gold flecks sparkled in her brown eyes. She had a cute button nose, and her pink-tinged lips were pursed in annoyance.
"Cat got your tongue?” she mocked. “You're not so suave in real life now that you aren’t safely behind your computer screen."
The taunts kept coming and he couldn't help but laugh out loud, enjoying her sass and smart tongue. She appeared to have no idea who he was. He quite liked the idea of being unknown to a woman.
When she narrowed her eyes and clamped her hands on her hips, looking ready to fire out a few more barbs at him, he held up his hands in surrender.
"Whoa, let's calm down."
"I'm sorry, I need to calm down?"
Shit. Clearly, the wrong thing to say. He was usually much smoother than this. He took a deep breath. "Caryn, I'm sorry, can we please start over again?"
Her eyes widened in surprise before contracting in suspicion. "Why?"
He couldn't pinpoint when he’d decided to pretend to be this Brad Jones, only that he had to try to correct this situation. It didn’t feel good though. He didn't want to impersonate a man who, for all intents and purposes, was a con man. All he knew was there was something about Caryn that piqued his interest. Whether it was her intriguing accent or because of the mix of her vulnerability and sass, he found himself wanting to get to know her a little better.
"Because I'm an ass." He pulled out the smile he knew the women viewers fawned over. If Caryn agreed to try again, he would have to frame his questions in a manner to draw out the information they'd supposedly shared. Hopefully, this Brad dude hadn't said he was a billionaire. Although his profile said he was supposed to be an accountant. How many accountants were billionaires anyway? Not many, he hoped.
And thank God, I’m not supposed to be a sports superstar.
He was more comfortable working out in the gym than throwing men down in tackles or chasing a puck across an icy surface. He wasn’t too bad with a baseball bat, but he was no David Ortiz.
Her shoulders relaxed and some of the anger seeped out of her eyes; a kernel of hope blossomed in his chest. He pushed his luck a little more. "So how about it, shall we have a drink?"
3
The sensible thing would be to walk away and never look back. Return to her villa via a stop at the gift shop for some gummy bears. Once in her villa, she would cruise the cable channels to find an action flick and gorge on her candy, squashing every single one, imagining it was Brad’s head.
After her previous experiences with online dating, s
he had no idea why she’d ever thought this time would be any different. Brad acting like he'd never arranged the meeting was her nightmare come true. For some reason, when it came to men, she had shitty taste. She should’ve stuck to her guns and avoided dating websites at all costs. Maybe, in the future, she should get her friends to vet guys and set her up on some blind dates. It couldn’t be worse than what she was currently experiencing.
She'd tell him thanks, but no thanks.
"You know, I don't thi—"
"That's right, don't think. Just say yes," he interrupted, his lips stretching wide.
Oh great, he pulled out the sexy smile again. A smile impossible to miss and seemed to make him even more handsome than the picture in his profile.
Say yes. This is why you came here, remember? To leap off your little box of comfort. Live a little, Caryn.
The little voice was right. She came to Barefoot Bay to experience something new and different. Life was short, and sometimes, you needed to take risks.
"Fine. One drink."
Setting a limit made sense. She could then say she'd met Brad and it hadn't worked out. For the rest of her stay she'd visit the spa every day and walk the beach. And maybe even try some yoga. She'd seen information in her room about a yoga school above a gastro pub called Twisted Pelican.
She jumped and her heart skipped a beat when his warm hand cupped her elbow. An unexpected heat whooshed through her. It wasn't unwelcome, and the tension filling her shoulders seeped out of her.
Brad led her to a table overlooking the blue expanse of Barefoot Bay. Hues of pink and purple highlighted the sky from the sunset. A scene set for romance. But no romance happening here, only a drink then a quick escape. Brad held out the seat for her, a surprising, gentlemanly move.
"Thanks." And the butterflies revved their wings again. After the initial moment of walking into the bar, annoyed at the possibility of another failed date, her anxieties had taken a back seat. Now that things were back on track, her pesky nerves pushed their way to the front of the line.
She could do this. She could do this.
"What would you like to drink, Caryn?"
The temptation to say a double tequila shot was high; however, it wouldn't be a good idea considering she hadn't had anything decent to eat since lunch. She needed to keep her head so she didn't say or do anything stupid. As boring as it was, a non-alcoholic beverage was what she needed to keep a clear head.
"Umm, may I have a virgin piña colada, please?"
He didn't even blink at her request. "Coming right up. I'll go place our order and be back before you know it."
Normally, the charm emanating from him would be annoying and she'd think the action sleazy. However, the way he spoke right now, sincere and honest like when her dad had told her he was proud of her when she’d made her first million. Perhaps this date would turn out all right after all. And maybe it was just as well she’d ordered a virgin drink. One or two actions didn’t mean the guy was genuine. She needed to keep her wits about her. Not get sucked into falling for a man who could hurt her the way her ex, Jasper, had.
Brad used that moment to return, preventing her from letting the past bring her down. Life came with no guarantees; she needed to enjoy this date and let the future take care of itself.
"Drinks will be here shortly."
Silence descended over the table, and she focused her attention on the darkening sky. She may have accused Brad of being brave behind a computer screen, but she wouldn't mind sitting behind a computer screen or have her phone in front of her right now. God, what did she say to him? Should she apologize for being rude when he asked her to stay?
Nope, no need to apologize, because as Brad had said, he'd been an ass.
The sound of a throat clearing diverted her gaze from the window to the man sitting opposite her.
"So, this is a tad awkward, isn't it?"
Caryn chuckled. He’d chipped off a corner of the ice wall between them. Now it was up to her to smash it into tiny little pieces. "Yeah. How about we really start this evening over?" She stuck her hand out across the table. "Hi, I'm Caryn Stapleton. Nice to meet you."
His hand engulfed hers, and shards of pleasure splintered through her from their connection. The coarseness of his calluses rubbing against her smooth palm was surprising. Huh. She expected an accountant to have smooth palms.
"Hi, Caryn, I'm To—uh, Brad Jones, but I prefer to be called by my middle name, Tom. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you."
With a quick lift of his arm, he raised her fingers to his lips, where he brushed them across her flesh gently. Another shiver traveled through her body, and as he released her hand, she gave it a little shake before clasping them in her lap.
The name change and the calluses on his hands rang warning bells in her head. She opened her mouth to question him, but the waitress arrived with their drinks. Caryn swallowed her questions.
Brad—no, Tom—lifted his beer bottle toward her in the classic pose of someone about to offer a toast. She grasped her own glass and raised it; ignoring the gesture would be rude. There was a special place in hell for rude people, and she wasn’t a fan of fire.
"To fun in the sun and getting to know new people. Cheers."
The lip of his bottle connected with the rim of her glass. "Cheers," she murmured and took a sip of the coconut drink. A little burst of rum would be welcome right about now—Dutch courage and all.
"You want me to call you Tom? You've never mentioned that in any of our emails. Why is that?"
The alarms bells went from a small tinkling sound to a large clanging one when his eyes darted upward before returning to meet her gaze straight on.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Whenever I sign up on sites I use Brad, but I like friends and family to call me Tom."
Caryn cocked her head to the side, trying to determine if he was bullshitting her or telling the truth. Apart from that first movement, his eyes hadn't shifted during his explanation. And, well, it wasn't the first time she knew someone who wanted to be called a different name than the legal one they were given. Perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt. They were having a drink, and while he was even better looking in person than his picture, as far as things proceeding beyond tonight…well, she was definitely taking a wait and see approach.
"Okay, sounds like a reasonable explanation, Br—Tom." This would take a little getting used to, seeing as she'd known him as Brad for the last three weeks they'd been trading emails. "But what about the calluses on your hands? Wouldn't an accountant have smooth hands since, according to you, you sit all day at a desk and punch numbers into a computer?"
She kept her vision glued on him as he looked down at his hands in surprise before turning them over and studying his palms for a few moments. He then sat back and chuckled.
"Busted. I work in construction. I thought an accountant sounded more appealing to women than someone who works on building sites."
Visions of Br—Tom— working on a building site bombarded her: shirtless, sweat running down an impressively chiseled chest, arm muscles bunching as he pounded nail after nail into pieces of wood. She grabbed her drink and took a big gulp in an attempt to cool her thoughts. He had no idea how sexy construction workers were to women.
Get a grip, girlfriend. The guy had basically lied to her and she wasn't going to put up with another liar in her life. No matter how sexy he looked with his shirt off, wearing a hard hat.
"I hate liars. Just thought I'd put that out there. So I don't appreciate that you lied to me on your profile and in your emails."
"Are you saying you wouldn't have swiped right if you'd known I worked in construction instead of in an office?" Tom leaned back and crossed his strong arms over his impressive chest. Oh yeah, he was way too muscular to be an accountant.
"Well, no, your occupation makes no difference to me. I've just had experience with people lying to me and it's not fun. Innocent people get hurt by others thinking it’s okay to sprout
lies. I always prefer the truth, no matter how bad it can be."
"Duly noted. I apologize again for lying about my name and occupation."
His apology seemed legitimate, not to mention the smile he kept pulling out to charm her with. Again, no tells to give her a clue he wasn't being totally honest with her. She was no expert on body language, but as a boss, you got savvy at reading people. Some would call her stupid for accepting what he was saying on face value, considering she had no idea if everything else he told her was the truth.
But she hadn't been totally truthful on her profile, either. It wasn't like she was about to proclaim she had an overflowing bank account on a site the whole world could see if they searched her name on the Internet. And she’d been vague about her occupation. Some guys felt threatened when a successful woman lobbed into their orbit. Besides, she wasn’t looking for long term. She was looking for someone to spend a little time with. After traveling alone for the last few months, she wanted a connection with someone other than herself. That was why she signed up on the dating sites again.
"Fine. Apology accepted." She took a quick sip of her drink before placing her hand on the table next to the glass. She could give him the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t like they were going to get married or anything. They were only having a drink together.
"Thank you." He leaned forward and laid his hand over hers. "Now how about we go over to Junonia for dinner? I've heard their chef is a master when it comes to food."
His invitation was unexpected. Weren’t they doing just one drink?
“I don’t know.”
“Please.”
It was the please that did it, and if she were being honest with herself, even though they'd gotten off to a shaky start, she found herself wanting to get to know Tom better.
Besides, it was only dinner.
Two hours later, Caryn patted her full stomach after the most delicious crème brûlée she’d ever tasted.
"Well, you weren't lying about the food. I've never had a more delicious meal in my whole life."
Swipe for Mr. Right Page 2