The Mandy Project

by Toni Blake

  It was almost a re-enactment of a conversation from their last date, yet it all went deeper now, becoming more about opening up and sharing than just making conversation.

  And, of course, she knew he meant he wanted those things with her—he wasn’t the least bit subtle. So it would have been a fine time for Mandy to tell him she’d fibbed on their first date about wanting to be a mother, a fine moment to say she didn’t want to be tied down with that kind of responsibility…but she just couldn’t bring herself to lie. Not about that. In fact, nothing in the world sounded better to Mindy than sharing Benton’s big bed while they both shared his big house with two or three wonderful kids. So she nodded a lot, and blushed some, too, and finally he said, “Of course, maybe you’re not in as big a hurry for that as I am, since you still have family nearby.”

  She was grateful for the turn in subject. “Yeah, my mom lives just across town.”

  “And there’s Mindy,” he reminded her.

  “Oh yeah.” How could she forget her beloved twin?

  “Are you two close?”

  Mindy reached for her wineglass and took another large swallow. “Extremely.”

  “You seem so different.”

  “Not always so different. But then again…” She grimaced, uncertain, recalling she’d once claimed she and Mindy had nothing in common. Darn it, when she’d devised this drinking plan, she hadn’t considered having to think clearly.

  Luckily, though, Benton only laughed, then bailed her out. “Don’t worry, I know how it is with siblings. You sometimes have a love/hate relationship.”

  “That’s it exactly! Sometimes Mindy and I are so much alike that it’s…almost as if we’re the same person. But other times, well…she probably feels like she doesn’t know me at all.”

  Benton nodded, appearing profoundly interested, which was when Mindy realized she was babbling and should shut up before she edged any further into the truth. “Are we done?” she asked, looking down at their empty plates and drained glasses. “Because if we are, I’m ready to go.” Anything to advance the evening by a few more moments without disaster.

  “So am I.” Lying his linen napkin aside, he got to his feet, then came to help with her chair.

  But—oh brother—her legs were wobbly. She suffered the overwhelming urge to cling to him, both for physical support and because she’d begun to feel kind of sad and helpless inside. She almost wanted to do what Jane had advised: be honest, tell the truth. And yet, she still couldn’t. It was just too humiliating. And too hurtful to a man who really cared about her. Well, the imaginary her, anyway.

  He placed his hand at the small of her back as they left the dining room and entered the darkly paneled foyer, teeming with patrons both coming and going, and she concentrated on each step, careful to stay balanced on her heels. It was when Benton took her hand, rubbing his thumb sensually over the back of it, and turned to say, “I was thinking maybe we could go back to my place,” that she tripped and went sprawling across an oriental rug with a loud thump.

  Several gasps and one “My heavens” from what sounded like a rich old woman filled the air, but even as humiliation and pain wracked her body, a burst of happiness overtook her. She’d come out tonight to embarrass herself and Benton, hadn’t she? Surely this sort of drunken display would accomplish that goal.

  “Mandy, honey, are you okay?”

  She raised her gaze from the baseboard to find him kneeling beside her, eyes frantic with concern as she lay spread-eagled across the floor. Oh, for heaven’s sake—the insufferable man was still being sweet and understanding!

  And if things weren’t bad enough, some frantic-sounding restaurant employee then entered the fray. “Are you all right, miss? Are you badly hurt? Should I call an ambulance, sir?”

  “Dear God, no,” she interjected, lifting her head from the plush rug. “I’m drunk, not injured.”

  “You took a pretty hard fall.” Benton gently stroked her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Peachy,” she said, despite being sore all over and knowing that getting to her feet would be a challenge. Flattening her palms to the floor, she pushed to her hands and knees, figuring she probably looked pornographic from the back—but who cared at this point? Benton was clearly far too concerned for her health to realize the depth of how she’d just humiliated them both. She peered up at him from her all-fours position and spoke lowly. “You’ll never be able to show your face in here again.”

  Helping her rise to her knees, he steadied her as she made the final move to her heels. When they stood face to face, he winked. “Sure I will. I have a lot of money.”

  In spite of her aspirations, Mindy had never been so relieved to reach a sidewalk in her life as when they finally stepped outside and said adios to Mr. Beady Eyes and his entire staff. The fresh evening air revived her and helped wash away at least a little of her mortification.

  Mortification which you wanted. She had to remember that. Because it’s necessary—even if miserably unpleasant. Only she’d hoped her suffering would produce some positive—or was that technically negative?—results, which she certainly hadn’t gotten so far.

  She clutched Benton’s arm as they stood in line for the valet.

  “So what do you say?” he asked.

  She looked up into incredibly sexy eyes, having no idea what he was talking about. “Say?”

  “Back to my place?”

  Oh yeah, that, the invitation that had sent her sprawling. She bit her lip and sighed. Going back to his place sounded so, so good right now, for more reasons than she could easily identify. She could rest her weary body a while and then…

  “I could give you a nice back rub,” he whispered enticingly, almost as if reading her mind. “Maybe we could even take a relaxing bubble bath together, then I could carry you to the bed and—"

  “No!” she yelled.

  A couple in front of them turned to stare.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly.

  The two looked away and Mindy shifted her gaze back to the man beside her, who appeared surprised and a little hurt. “No?”

  His expression—something undeniably vulnerable beneath the masculine exterior—broke her heart. “Well, I didn’t mean no exactly—I meant not yet. I meant I could really go for a walk around the city, like we started to take last time.”

  His features brightened, warming Mindy from head to toe. “Maybe it would be good for you to walk some, help keep your muscles from getting stiff after that fall.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” she lied as they departed from the valet stand and ventured into a crosswalk, the sign blinking white for them.

  “Maybe we could stroll down to Fountain Square, take that carriage ride we talked about.”

  As before, the suggestion filled her with such affection and anticipation she could barely measure it. But just then, a cluster of pink neon grabbed her attention and she remembered to stick to the plan. “Or we could go in here,” she said, bringing them to a rough halt before downtown Cincinnati’s only bona fide sex shop. The well-endowed mannequin in the brightly lit window wore only scraps of black leather, including a mask, and wielded a rather scary-looking whip.

  Ha, this would get him! She knew it! No woman Benton Maxwell could ever want to marry would be caught dead in such an establishment, nor would a man like Benton himself. He was a prominent local business figure, he had a reputation to maintain, and being spotted in a sex shop would be the equivalent of professional suicide.

  As she drew her gaze cautiously from the storefront to her date, he eyed her skeptically. “You want to go in here?”

  It was working! Her plan was finally working! Now to seal it! “Yes, Benton, I do. I really, really do.”

  Benton glanced up and down the street, then briefly toward the faceless leather chick, before finally returning his gaze to Mindy. A small, adventurous grin quirked up one corner of his mouth. “Okay, what the hell. Come on.”

  Grabbing Min
dy’s hand, he pulled her in the door of the brilliantly illumined den of iniquity before she knew what was happening.

  “Oh my!” Countless cylindrical objects dangled overhead in a dazzling array of colors and sizes. Mindy had the urge to duck and cover, lest they start falling on her like tiny torpedoes. Although some of them were frighteningly far from tiny.

  Desperate to stop gaping at them in front of Benton, she swung her gaze to the right, where instead she founds breasts, dozens of them, adorning videos and magazines. A turn to the left revealed something a little more palatable—lingerie. Only…most of it seemed to be missing key bits of material.

  Her face burned with heat and her whole body tingled with embarrassment. This wasn’t going at all like she’d hoped—he was supposed to be the embarrassed one and she was supposed to be the wild, worldly, free spirit. But then, she’d never really thought Benton would actually agree to go inside. She’d been avoiding his eyes since they’d crossed the threshold, but when she accidentally glanced up at him, he clearly saw her discomfort and cast a sympathetic grin.

  “I, I, I…” she began ever-so-eloquently.

  “Would look excellent in that,” Benton said, concluding her sentence in a way she’d never intended as he pointed over her shoulder. She risked following his eyes to a mannequin wearing a very skimpy black vinyl teddy, complete with spiked dog collar and tall boots with pointy heels.

  Her jaw dropped slightly as she shifted a questioning gaze to the man at her side. “Really?”

  He gave a playful shrug. “When in Rome…”

  Unwittingly visualizing herself in such a get-up, she felt her face go from crimson to beet.

  “Although I’ll admit,” he added, sliding a comforting arm around her waist, “I’m usually more drawn to black lace.”

  Well, that was a relief. In fact, it was even slightly arousing, because black lace Mindy could relate to—she even owned a little of it. Dog collars were another matter.

  “Benton?”

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “Could we, uh, get out of here?”

  He grinned. “Sure. In fact, it’ll save me from having to cover your eyes when you spot what’s in the back corner.”

  She instinctively swung around to look, but he laughingly blocked her vision with his body. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  If Mindy had thought reaching the sidewalk outside the restaurant had been a respite, it was nothing compared to their departure from the sex shop. She felt like an idiot. But not the kind of idiot who was turning Benton off, unfortunately—instead, she seemed to be the kind of idiot he sympathized with and wanted to take care of. She wasn’t sure what had happened to the man who’d come into Mates By Mindy seeking a twenty-first century Suzy Homemaker, but this wasn’t him. Then again, in all fairness, she also wasn’t sure what had happened to the sensible, honest, well-meaning matchmaker she used to be, either.

  Total desperation besieged her. Things were going far too well here, and it seemed no matter what radical move she made, they kept going well; he kept being enamored of her. The really scary part was that she feared she could be prodded back into his bed with far too much ease if the tide didn’t turn soon. Because not only was he sweet and chivalrous, now he was protective and playful, too.

  She had to do something. Something big! Something unimaginable! Something so completely outrageous it would put every other one of tonight’s shenanigans to shame! And she had to do it very soon because just the way he held her hand, even just his smile, made her want him so much she could barely breathe, and she found herself wondering how he felt about flesh-colored lace, like the panties she wore under her Marilyn dress right this moment.

  “So,” he asked, “what’s next?” Understandably, amusement tinged his grin.

  But Mindy was determined to wipe that smile right off his gorgeous face. And that was when she spotted the very expensive-looking cherry-red sports car sitting unattended at a valet stand across the street. Aha! she thought triumphantly, even if also feeling a little bit crazed. This is it. This will finally show him what a nut Mandy truly is!

  “Let’s go joyriding!” she said, pointing. “In that car! Let’s just throw caution to the wind and do it!” She punctuated the suggestion with her most manic look.

  “You want to take that Lamborghini for a joyride, huh?” Benton asked, sounding a little calmer than she’d hoped.

  She maintained her wild, anxious expression. “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do.”

  To Mindy’s unqualified disbelief, Benton said, “Wait here,” and coolly crossed the street. And to her absolute horror, a moment later he pulled the red convertible up to the curb beside her, engine purring, then leaned over and winked. “Come on, let me take you for a ride.”

  Chapter Six

  Benton had seldom enjoyed shocking someone more than he enjoyed shocking Mandy right now. They raced onto Columbia Parkway in the classic sports car, the wind whipping about them, as Mandy screamed at him. “You stole a car? You stole this car? Are you crazy? We’re going to jail!”

  He turned to her with a chuckle. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “To go to jail? No!” She shook her head vehemently, both hands clamped firmly to the top of her head—he supposed she was trying to as to protect her hair from the wind whipping through it, futile attempt thought it was.

  “I was talking about the Lamborghini. I thought you wanted to go joyriding!” In conclusion, he accelerated, still relishing her panicked expression. She tried to act so hedonistic, yet glimpses of the woman he’d first met continued to reveal themselves, and he couldn’t resist following her lead just to see how far she’d go.

  “But I—but I—”

  “Look excellent in this car.” He winked, then turned his eyes back to his driving as they careened up the darkened riverside thoroughfare, a full moon blazing down from above the perfectly-spaced streetlights. “Isn’t this great?”

  “No! No, it isn’t great at all!” More head-shaking, even as she continued holding her hair.

  Benton leaned his head back and let out a laugh of pure joy.

  “We won’t even make it to jail because you’re going to get us killed first! Why on earth did I get in this car?”

  He slanted her a look. “Well, it would have been rude not to. After you asked me to steal it, I mean.”

  “I didn’t ask you to steal it! I said joyride. Which is kind of like borrowing.”

  “Borrow, steal—does it really make a difference? Either way, it’s too late at this point, so you may as well sit back and enjoy the ride. Now,” he said, swinging his full attention to the road as he reached for the gearshift, “let’s see what this baby can do!”

  Benton shifted the Lamborghini into high gear and pressed down the gas pedal to send the car soaring through the late spring night like a rocket. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d cut loose like this, forgotten all the pressures and responsibilities of running his business, or even just his life—he couldn’t remember a time when he’d had this much fun. Joyriding didn’t usually rank among activities he took pleasure in, but teasing Mandy with it was too entertaining to resist.

  Despite how differently the night had turned out than he’d anticipated, he grew fonder of the woman with each passing moment. He could barely explain it—he only knew that being around her lightened his heart, made him feel younger than his thirty-five years, and plunged him into a carefree happiness he’d forgotten even existed.

  Of course, at the moment she still sat next to him with a look of sheer horror frozen on her pretty face, and since he wanted her to have a good time, too, he supposed it was time to let her off the hook.

  “I know the guy!” he yelled above the hum of the car as they took a particularly gratifying curve.

  She glared at him. “Guy? What guy? What are you talking about?”

  “The guy who owns this car. I know him. We manage some trust accounts together. I caught him heading into the r
estaurant and asked if I could take it for a spin.”

  He cast a grin, waiting for her to smile back, yet instead her mouth fell open in a silent gasp and her eyes remained filled with horror—or was that anger?

  Without warning, she began pummeling his arm with small, determined fists. The car swerved. “Hey, you’re going to make me wreck!”

  So she stopped hitting—he was relieved to see she was at least that sensible—but started yelling instead. “You big jerk! You let me think you stole this thing! You let me think we were going to get arrested! I was envisioning myself in horizontal stripes—which is not a good look for me, by the way.”

  He slowed the car and shot her a satisfied expression. “I got you, didn’t I?”

  “What?”

  He kept his accusing grin trained on her. “I scared you. You like to act so wild, but you’re not really that wild, are you, Mandy?”

  Mindy had never been so confused in her life. She’d thought she understood Benton Maxwell perfectly, but as this night wore on, she was forced to realize she hadn’t a clue about him. Now she couldn’t tell if he wanted a wild woman or a staid, obedient one. This, she wanted to tell him, is exactly why I do thorough interviews with all my clients!

  But rather than blow her cover after all she’d done to keep her true identity a secret, she bit her lip and weighed her response carefully. “How wild do you want me to be?”

  His eyes twinkled in the moonlight as the breeze mussed his thick hair. “As wild as you want. Or as not wild as you want. Either way, I’m crazy about you.”

  Oh crap. This meant no matter what she did, she wasn’t getting rid of him. Whether issuing her silly tittering laugh in a chaste pink dress or guzzling wine in skin-tight sparkles, none of it mattered. How had this happened? “But why are you crazy about me?” she asked, exasperated.

  He drove in silence for a moment, finally veering left up into the wooded hills along the riverside. He parked the convertible on a quiet tree-lined street, then turned to gaze deeply into her eyes, the moon cutting through the foliage just enough to illumine his handsome face.