Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  CHAPTER Six

  You’re home early,” Alexiana said without looking up from her copy of Vogue.

  Oliver stepped toward the chair and sat. “I couldn’t concentrate, so I left.”

  Not another word as she flipped pages, dressed to the nines, hair and makeup done.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you dressed like that? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable to wear something else if you’re lounging around the house?” He pictured Mia’s soft sweatshirt hiding a toned, curvy body. And her loose natural hairstyle, longing to bury his face in it again.

  “I don’t lounge. And comfort looks horrendous.”

  Even in her own home she needed to uphold her image. How had he ever thought a girl like Alexiana was for him? Had he ever really pictured a future with her?

  The two had been pushed together by their parents after years of friendship. They’d played together as young kids, way before Alexiana had turned into a snobby socialite like her mother. Oliver recalled the many times they’d swum and played Marco Polo at his family’s summer cottage. But he started high school and she hit puberty, and it all changed.

  After six years away earning his bachelor’s and MBA, he’d come home to start his adult life, and there was Alexiana, sexy as hell. He’d wanted to rekindle their friendship—what guy wouldn’t want to get close to a woman like that—but she’d changed. She wasn’t interested in being friends with the boy she once knew—she was only interested in finding a man. Their families were still close, and after a few years of nagging from both sets of parents, he’d asked her out on a real date.

  If he’d known then where he’d be now, he’d have definitely run far away. Amazing how an unplanned pregnancy and forced marriage proposal could ruin a friendship. Especially when he suspected the pregnancy might not even be real. She wasn’t above faking it to get what she wanted.

  Oliver needed an out. And he just might have one. If that “out” also led him to a woman he actually liked spending time with, all the better.

  “I decided to get a second job.”

  “Why?” Alexiana crinkled her nose and looked up for the first time since he’d walked in the door. “It’s not like we need the money.”

  That was true. He made good money and they both had trust funds. “It’s not about the money. I’m bored. I need something new.”

  “But you’re keeping your real job, right?”

  “Of course.” The daily tasks of an investment banker weren’t exactly thrilling, but he’d worked too long and hard, becoming the youngest senior account manager in the firm’s history. He wasn’t giving it up. But he did need something else in his life that brought him some kind of joy and excitement.

  “Do whatever you want, then.”

  He hadn’t been looking for permission, but he did want her to know. He wanted her to be pissed.

  “I already interviewed for a job. It’s a modeling gig at a lingerie boutique.”

  That made the magazine flop backward onto her lap. “What?”

  “They’re expanding their product line and need a model.” He thought of telling her exactly what the modeling was for, but decided to hold that in.

  Alexiana snorted. “Seriously? You’re toned and all, but model material? Highly unlikely.” She brought her magazine back up.

  “Well, the owner seemed to really like me. She thinks I’ll be perfect for in-store appearances.”

  The magazine dropped again. “What does that mean?”

  “Whoever they choose for the job will be a spokesperson for the store. Customers will come in and pose for pictures, maybe even get autographs.”

  “You can’t do something like that. That’s just . . . gross. Desperate women fawning over you? You’re not doing that. Call the store and tell them you changed your mind.”

  “No. It sounds fun and I want to do it.”

  Flames flared inside her pupils. This was definitely getting the reaction he’d hoped for.

  She stood and slammed her Vogue onto the glass-top coffee table. “I will not be married to some man-slut. Can you even imagine what people will say about you . . . us . . . me? Our baby? A baby can’t have a father like that.”

  He looked her up and down. Form-fitted top, skinny jeans, shoes that could kill a man. Three months along, and not even a hint of baby belly or pregnancy pounds.

  “I don’t care what people think. Never have.”

  “Oh, yes you do. What would your mother think about this little job of yours? I’m sure she’d be real happy about her only son parading around in his underwear.”

  “Leave my mother out of this.”

  “Can you imagine the strain this would put on her delicate heart? I’m not sure she could survive it.”

  What a bitch. Of course she’d use his mother’s illness to control him. She’d been doing it for years. Her manipulative words from the past echoed in his brain.

  “We must stay together. Your mother’s heart wouldn’t be able to handle the breakup.”

  “Think of how happy the pregnancy news will make your mother.”

  “We have to get married. Your mother can’t take the embarrassment of a bastard grandchild.”

  His mother was weak and any kind of stress could harm her—like, say, not proposing to his pregnant girlfriend.

  Alexiana had backed him into a corner again and was using his love for his mother against him. All he wanted to do was make his mother happy, even if it meant the destruction of his own happiness. Somehow he had to figure a way out.

  But in the meantime, he had to make Alexiana think he was unfazed by her threats. And if he could grab a little bit of joy by tormenting her, all the better. She deserved it. And maybe, if he annoyed her enough, she’d leave him. Problem solved.

  Oliver shrugged out of his suit jacket. “Well, you never know. My mother might think it’s wonderful; her son being adored by women. And who knows? It could turn into something really huge. I could do a show in Vegas or something.”

  The disgusted scowl across her face was all he needed. Mission complete. He headed to the bedroom, struggling to contain his laughter.

  MIA WALKED up the steps to the mansion she’d moved into when she was only thirteen years old. Before that, they’d lived in a much smaller home, in a typical suburban neighborhood a block away from Bryn’s parents’ house. But then the car dealership had taken off and within two years’ time, Mia’s dad owned the largest megadealership in the entire county. They built a huge house on a ten-acre plot of land on the outskirts of Kenville and Mia could no longer walk through the school hallway without someone rambling off her dad’s motto from his TV commercial: Bring me your trade; I’ll make it rain.

  The thirty-second spots had always embarrassed her. After rambling like an auctioneer, spitting details about the cars on his lots, he’d delivered his famed line and threw handfuls of fake dollars in the air. And it hadn’t even rhymed properly.

  Eighteen years later, he was still making those corny commercials. And still using that corny line. She flipped the channel whenever one came on.

  Mia usually stayed away from her parents’ place, because her visits weren’t really visits. They were hours filled with nagging. The only reason she’d agreed to tonight’s gathering was her mother’s birthday.

  Gift bag in hand, Mia opened the door and let herself in. Nothing. “Hello?”

  The faint sound of laughter drifted to her ears. She followed it to the dining room.

  “There you are. Where the hell have you been?” The Great Antonio Montanari demanded.

  What’s up his ass? “It’s six oh five. You said be here at six.”

  “No. I said dinner was at six. Chef Rene has already served the appetizer.”

  Only the best for the Montanari family. Her father had hired his favorite private chef to cook for the event.

  “Sit down. Your mussels are getting cold.”

  Yuck! He knew she didn’t eat shellfish
. Mia sat anyway and smiled at her mother. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you,” she said and continued eating, the whole table now silent.

  Where’d the laughter go? Gee. I show up and the mood is killed. What’s new?

  “So . . . Mia,” her mother started after dabbing the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin. “How are you? How are things at the store?”

  The hired help took away the appetizer plates, hers untouched. “Good. We’re trying something new that will hopefully be successful for the shop.”

  “I heard about this thing you’re doing?” her father said.

  Mia’s gaze shot to Riley, suddenly engrossed in her manicure.

  “Sounds vulgar if you ask me. No woman in her right mind is going to spend hard-earned money on that crap. Why would you do something so stupid?”

  Here we go again. “Please don’t assume you know anything about my business.”

  “I don’t need to know anything about the bra business to know this is a waste of time and money. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Are you trying to ruin your reputation? Do you want to be a porn peddler? Hell, it sounds to me like you’re a pimp, hiring a prostitute.”

  Eyes wide, Mia fought to keep her jaw in place instead of it falling into her lap. But as the shock faded, anger boiled inside her stomach. He had no right to insult her like that. This was exactly why she hated coming to family functions. “That’s not what we’re doing. We’re trying to save our business.”

  “Why on earth would you even try to do that? For a measly forty grand a year?”

  Well, that showed what he knew! It was actually thirty, now that they’d had to cut their salaries.

  “If you work for me, I can more than double that.”

  “At the cost of my soul,” she mumbled.

  “What was that?” her father bellowed.

  “Nothing.” She stared him right in the eyes. “My answer is the same as it’s always been. I will never come work for you.”

  He shook his head and downed his red wine.

  “Please, sweetie?” her mother begged.

  Come on. Now she was starting?

  “It’s so hard for your sister to be home alone all the time. If you work for your father, Nico can be home more with Riley and Gianna. And now with the baby coming, how will she ever manage?”

  “I thought she was hiring a nanny.”

  “Oh, no. A stranger is no substitute for a mother or father. Please, dear. Your father and sister need you.”

  “Mom, I can’t.” Tears welled in Mia’s eyes. Her mother was the only one in her family with even an ounce of compassion. She had to understand this. “I need to be my own person. I need to succeed on my own.”

  “What’s so wrong with helping your family, and being helped by them? Could you do it part time? I think it would bring us so much closer.”

  Mia remembered a time when they were close. Summers camping at the lake, roasting marshmallows and canoeing, laughing like idiots when they’d tip over. Winters were spent sledding, snowmobiling, even ice fishing. The days had always ended with hot chocolate and doughnuts.

  But that was long before the birth of Montanari Motors. When her dad was just a plain old salesman. Amazing how things had changed since his success. Once upon a time she had a caring and loving dad who would never yell at her across the dinner table.

  If her father hadn’t turned into such a demanding, controlling, and overall horrible person, it would be different. Maybe she could work for him. But she already knew how it would go: for a week, she’d be the prodigal daughter returned. And then the faultfinding would begin, until nothing she did was good enough for The Great Antonio Montanari.

  But that wasn’t the only reason. “I love my job and I shouldn’t have to give that up. For anyone.” Mia hated stabbing her mother in the heart and watching the pain in her eyes, especially on her birthday.

  “Of course you won’t give up that job,” Riley added. “Cause then Bryn would be all alone and we know you won’t do that.”

  Mia’s head whipped toward her sister, eyes narrowed. What a bitch. She wasn’t even going to justify that with a response. She stood as she folded her napkin and laid it over her plate. “I’m gonna go. Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

  Before anyone could object, though it would probably only be her mother, Mia left the room and headed out the door. An hour earlier, she may have been stupid enough to think she could still be part of this family, but she had certainly smartened up. She’d taken all she could and she wouldn’t be making the same mistake again.

  CHAPTER Seven

  Interview number four and Mia swore to herself she would not chicken out on the proper product testing this time. She’d told her interviewee to meet her at the bar and got there a little early, hoping to down a few drinks first. Not only to help her nerves with the interview, but to erase the crappy almost-dinner at her parents’.

  Mia walked in and Thor was there as usual.

  “Hey, Mia. How’s it going?”

  “Good. You?”

  “Same shit, different day. I saw you in here last week. You left with that guy. The pretty rich boy.”

  “Yeah.”

  Always the protector. As her high school football team’s prize linebacker, she’d gotten to know Thor pretty well through Bryn. He’d made it his mission to protect all the cheerleaders from scumbags in school. And since Mia was the BFF of the head cheerleader, she’d earned protection, too. Poor guy. If it hadn’t been for that knee injury sophomore year of college, he’d probably be in the NFL instead of bouncing at the local dive bar.

  “Don’t worry. It’s just business.”

  “Well, he’s been back here almost every night since. Asking about you. I wouldn’t let anyone tell him anything.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Weird. She’d told Ryan she’d call him about the job. Maybe he was anxious. Or maybe he was a stalker. Nice. He knew where she lived. But he hadn’t come by, as far as she knew.

  Mia sat at the bar, once again donning her hot pink sweatshirt. She ordered a drink and sipped, glancing around. Would Ryan be here tonight, too? Why was her stomach fluttering with the thought of seeing him again? This possible nut job. She needed to forget about him and focus on tonight’s guy.

  “Are you Mia?” she heard from behind, turning toward a broad-shouldered guy, neatly trimmed blond hair, shirt tucked, buttons all secured. He looked like a catalogue model for J. Crew or Chaps or something equally as preppy.

  “Yes. You must be Chad.”

  “Yeah.” He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Have a seat.”

  He did and put his beer bottle to his mouth, chugging half of it.

  “Nervous?”

  “Shit. Is it showing?”

  “Little bit.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s kinda crazy, right?”

  She giggled. “Uh, yeah. A lot crazy. But we’re doing it anyway.”

  He seemed to relax somewhat. “I’ve only done a few shoots. Fully clothed. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this, but my agent said it might be a good gig. Help me overcome my anxiety in front of the camera.”

  Hmm. Camera shy? “Well, do you just wanna go to my place? Get it over with? Or do you want to walk away?”

  He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Let’s do it.”

  Mia hopped off her bar stool. “Okay. Follow me.”

  As they reached the door, it opened in front of them and in walked Ryan. Even in the dim bar, his eyes twinkled and made Mia’s heart stop beating for a second.

  “Hey. I was hoping to see you,” he said.

  “I was just leaving.” She stepped past him, but he caught her arm, sizzling her skin even through her thick cotton sleeve.

  “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

  Thor sidled up to Mia. “Need me to throw this jerk out of here?”

  “Uh.” She turned to Thor then back to Ryan. A quick glance at Ch
ad. “Thor, thanks, but I’m good. Chad, give me one minute. Ryan, you got fifty-eight seconds.”

  “Can we go somewhere private?”

  “Sure. Fifty-five seconds.”

  He took her hand and led her to a quiet corner. “Please don’t leave with that guy.”

  “Why?”

  “Pick me. Right now.”

  “Come on. Is that why you’ve been back here so many times? You want the job so badly you’re stalking me?”

  “I’m not stalking you. I just . . . really want the job.”

  “Why does a guy wearing an expensive suit need a low-paying modeling gig? Forty seconds.”

  “You’re right. I don’t need the money. I just really want the job.”

  “Why? If you can’t give me an answer, a real one, I’m leaving. Thirty seconds.”

  “Okay. Fine. I . . . I don’t want you sleeping with anyone else.”

  Well, that wasn’t what she was expecting. Nor was she expecting the flock of butterflies tangoing in her gut. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Snap out of it. This is business. Not pleasure.

  “I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” And she wasn’t going to offer the fact that he was the only one she’d actually had sex with so far. The only one she’d wanted to do it with. “I need to interview Chad and one more guy. Like I told you before, I’ll let you know when the interviews are done if we’re hiring you or not.”

  She stepped away. Don’t you dare look back. Damn body, moving without her brain’s consent. He stood there, looking like someone had killed his puppy right in front of him. But why did she feel as if someone had killed hers, too?

  Mia kept on walking and turned forward. Forget Ryan. “Ready?” she said to Chad and looped her arm through his.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Five minutes later Mia walked into her apartment. Same routine as the last two guys. She offered him a drink and he took her up on it. But instead of a bottle of water, he accepted the offer of vodka. Mia needed to keep her head clear, even if she wanted to forget the scene with Ryan. Why did he have to show up and mess with her head like that?

  “Okay. I think I’m good,” Chad said and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a proper white tee underneath. He pointed at the fabric. “This, too?”