by Brill Harper
“Stop, Mitch, please. I’m not happy with what you did, but you’re more than my agent, I consider you a friend.” And I can’t walk away from a friend in need any more than I could walk away from the hundred emails I get each week asking for advice.
Mitch’s posture becomes more relaxed. “This is just between us, right?”
“Of course.” I view my job as confession hearer very seriously. I don’t publish my readers’ questions unless they send them to the special address for the blog.
“Magdalene and I hook up a few times a month. Very informally. Nobody at the agency knows about us. We are very discreet. I’ve been trying to breach the friends-with-benefits line since the first time, but she’s adamant that a relationship would kill what we have now and it’s too important to her to lose.” He shakes his head ruefully. “She’s killing me. I haven’t been with another woman since. She’s all I want. I don’t know how to convince her to give us a try, though.”
It doesn’t sound good, frankly. Especially not if Magdalene is hooking up with other men. But I don’t know how to ask if that is the case without pushing him over the cliff at this point. “Before you...um...hooked up, did you notice if she was ever involved with anyone in a serious relationship?”
“Yeah. She got burned pretty badly, and I know that’s why she won’t commit, but to hear her tell it, she’s never been happier. Alone.”
I shrug. “Maybe she is. Not everyone is wired for a monogamous relationship. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s when they drag people who do want commitment into their sphere that it becomes an issue.”
“She loves me, Holly. I know she does. It’s not just the sex, which is great. Phenomenal, really. We have a great time when we’re together even if we’re just watching TV and eating pizza.”
And isn’t that always the way of it? How many readers have I coaxed from this ledge over the years? “Look, Mitch, I’m going to shoot from the hip here. Magdalene may very well care about you deeply, but if she’s been honest with you about her expectations, the problem here isn’t her, it’s you.”
“You think I should give up on her.” It isn’t a question. It’s a resigned statement.
“I think that you either need to be happy with what she’s willing to give or move on. Stop sleeping with her. Stop being the friend that drops everything to be there for her. Put yourself first and start actively looking for a woman who wants the same things out of life that you do.”
Mitch starts to argue and then stands up abruptly. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s not like I haven’t read your book. I just thought if she saw her client fall for the Girl Next Door...”
My once rapidly rising blood pressure takes a sudden nosedive. “That was your bet?”
“Not exactly. She joked that he could get you into bed on the first night. but I said no way.”
It’s a good thing Mitch doesn’t know how close my body came to betraying my principles last night. Dane Martin is a whole lotta potent male heat. “What were the stakes, exactly? I mean you won, right? Why do you look so miserable?”
“In the interest of preserving what little chance I have at keeping you as a client, I’m not going to divulge the stakes. But they are personal and...er...personal.” His hand reaches to loosen his collar a bit. Judging by the scarlet flush of his cheeks, I really don’t want to know.
“I see.”
“But then the reporter happened. And now, well, now we have something a little more interesting on our hands.”
As if scripted, the conference room door opens, and Magdalene and Dane enter stage right. At least this time I knew the meeting was happening, but no matter how I tried to prepare for it, Dane’s presence damn near knocks me over.
In the daylight, he is extraordinary. Wearing a “practiced casual” look of jeans and a V-neck sweater, he exudes a let’s-do-brunch-and-hit-the-farmer’s-market vibe. Only I know he probably never does either of those things with a date. It’s too domestic for someone like him. And yet, despite knowing that he is artificially wonderful, my body responds automatically.
It should be a crime to look so good. For one thing, his jeans hug a world-class, Grade-A ass. And yes, I know how sexist I am being. Then there is his face. Dane is chiseled to near-perfection, yet misses the pretty boy look and goes for testosterone-infused precision. Something about his nose, maybe. Like he’s been in a brawl once or twice. He wears it extremely well.
After the greetings are had, the water is poured, and the four “mature” adults are seated around the table, an uncomfortable silence weighs heavily in the atmosphere. Magdalene fidgets while Mitch clenches his jaw and stares at his water. When I glance at Dane, I find him openly watching me.
He makes a face and I can’t stop the giggle. Apparently, that is all the room needed. The oppression leaks out as if someone poked a hole in a balloon and everyone chuckles.
Magdalene clears her throat. “I’ll start this damage control meeting with an apology. I think I speak for Mitch as well when I say we are very sorry that we put both of you in this uncomfortable mess. We hope you will both forgive our lack of professionalism and understand that we never meant to cause you any discomfort. The press was a fluke. Apparently, the new society reporter is a bridesmaid and they had a bachelorette party last night at Felony. That said, no publicity is bad publicity.”
Mitch shoots a warning glance at Magdalene. “Uh, Mags...”
She waves him off. “There are worse things than soon-to-be-published authors being called celebrities and making the society page in the newspaper. Trust me. This is not a bad thing.”
I can’t believe this woman. “Actually, I think being linked to the town playboy when my platform is teaching women to stay away from the playboys of their town can be construed as a bad thing.” Belatedly, I add to Dane, “No offense.”
Dane releases a good-natured laugh. “None taken.”
Likely because he is proud of his playboy status.
“Think about this for a minute, Holly. If your readers see that the girl next door manages to take Mr. Virile off the market for a time, your blog hits will go through the roof. Not to mention preorders on your book.”
Dane blinks several times and furrows his brow as if his agent’s words are finally catching up with him. “Off the market?”
Mags pushes her voluminous hair to one shoulder. “Mitch and I discussed this before the meeting. We think you two should date for a while.”
Interesting that Holly and Mitch had not discussed this before the meeting. And I let him know so with my best “what the eff?” face. “Oh really?”
Even Dane looks uncomfortable. Especially when Mags adds, “Monogamously.”
Mitch interjects a calming voice. “Before you two shoot this down, remember it’s for publicity. You don’t actually have to have a romantic liaison. And you don’t need to lie or answer to any press. Just be seen together in public for a few weeks. Dane, you can really benefit from this. There are a lot of men who follow your blog who are actually looking for a girlfriend or even a wife.” He pauses long enough to glance at Magdalene. “Seeing you in a relationship will bolster interest.”
Mags nods. “We actually think the more coy you two are about not discussing your relationship, the higher the benefits will be. It won’t hurt either of you to go on a few dates. Just,” she pointedly adds toward Dane, “don’t date anyone else for the duration.”
Dane shakes his head. “My blog followers know I’m happy being single. I don’t think this will work.”
“It feels dishonest to me,” I say.
“If you are asked point blank about the nature of your relationship, just say you are friends. They’ll eat it up. And it’s not lying. Look, I saw the picture in the paper. Neither of you looked like it would be a hardship to spend more time together.”
The “canoodling” picture does look pretty intimate. Dane didn’t so much as kiss me last night, but the camera caught us both looking very much like w
e wanted to.
Mitch catches my gaze. “Unless either of you is worried you won’t be able to keep it platonic, what do you have to lose here?”
“Really, Mitch? Psych 101?” I shake my head. “The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves.” Reverse psychology is not going to work on us.
Just as I come to this conclusion, “I’m in,” Dane says, surprising everyone at the table.
“Really?” I ask. “Because you know these two are just trying to cover their own asses here, right? By spinning this into some sort of publicity coup, they don’t have to face up to the fact that they totally crossed the line.”
At least they both look sheepish.
“We’ll have plenty of time to make them pay for that. In fact, we can come up with some great ways to torture them while we are on our ‘dates.’ They’re right, my reputation is solid with men who want to stay single, but I do have followers who want relationships. It can’t hurt for me to get more perspective. Having a committed non-sexual dating relationship will help me understand their needs better. You can tutor me.”
I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted by that. He is serious, though. It doesn’t feel like he wants to deceive his readers as much as he wants to gain some experience with their perspective. While it still feels a little shady, dating Dane would give me a chance to help him change his mind about relationships. Not that I want him. But it is sort of my duty to help him to the light, isn’t it? Of course, it also means that he is going to keep trying to get me into his bed.
I ignore the light flicker of butterfly wings in my stomach and hold out my hand to shake on a venture that is probably a really bad idea.
He takes my hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it to his lips. “I know a great place for brunch if you’re not busy.”
AMA with Mr. Virile
DEAR MR. VIRILE,
Do you need a lot of money to attract women? Because I don’t have much, and I see guys like you wearing expensive suits getting all the chicks while guys like me who might actually be smarter and more attractive don’t get any play.
Signed,
Broke but Worth it
~*~
DEAR BROKE,
You absolutely do not need money to attract women. It makes it easier because it’s a tangible signal that you can offer what she’s really looking for—and that isn’t cash. Women want stability. Emotional and financial stability. They are hardwired to be attracted to the men who come off knowing how to handle themselves in a bad situation—and the current economy certainly qualifies as a bad situation.
If you don’t have a lot of cash, you need to make sure your appearance is above reproach. Take extra time on grooming. Your clothes need to be impeccable, even if the labels are store brand. When you are out, you must exude that you are the man and the one to lean on in a crisis. This means never appearing drunk or out of control in public. No brawling. No yelling at the game. You are calm, you are cool, and above all you are collected.
The Fonz lived in an apartment above the Cunningham’s garage. The women didn’t seem to mind.
Sincerely,
Mr. Virile
*This does not give you permission to water-ski in a leather jacket.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dane
DESPITE THE FACT THAT she has crazy ideas about men and women and love, I find I really do enjoy Holly’s company. She has a wry sense of humor, she gives as good as she gets in the teasing department, and she is refreshingly honest. I chalk it up to her not feeling the need to impress me, but I still like it.
We’re on another brunch date and I find I’m especially happy watching her eat. I gave up on taking women to dinner a long time ago. I’m not opposed to feeding them, but I hate taking a girl to a great steak house and watching her take one bite of her salad and say she’s full. It isn’t just the money I don’t like wasting, it bugs me to share one of life’s great joys with someone who can’t or won’t appreciate it. I save the steak houses for dinner with my buddies and take my dates out for drinks before a show instead.
Holly, however, enjoys her food. She has some sort of mad love for the French toast we ordered and keeps entertaining me with “notes of almond” and “perfect texture” between bites. She is a self-admitted foodie, and when she talks about cooking, I have a hard time putting away the mental image of her making breakfast in my kitchen wearing my favorite Ralph Lauren shirt.
The picture won’t go away. It feels more like a memory than a fantasy. I’ll nuzzle her neck while she’s standing at the stove. I can feel the soft curves of her ass cushioning my cock while I distract her from her pan. She’s not wearing panties, of course, so when my hand slides under the shirt, her pussy is slick and warm. I’d make her come like that, standing at the stove with a spatula in her hand while she grinds against my fingers and the eggs burn.
“Am I boring you?” she asks, bumping me out of my fantasy.
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re doing it again.”
I sip my orange juice. “Doing what?”
“Bad things to me in your head.”
“Bad things, huh?”
“Your wicked grin confirms it. You’re incorrigible.”
“You hold my interest in a very unique way, Ms. Winters.”
She puts her napkin down. “You just want to fuck me.”
If my readers saw this go down, I’d have a lot of unsubscribes because there is nothing cool or virile-like about the way I choke my juice down the wrong pipe just from hearing the word fuck out of her mouth. Damn. It’s dirty and earthy and the perfect foil to her fresh girl next door vibe. I need to hear her say it when I’m balls deep in her. Maybe from behind, my balls slapping against her ass while she’s begging me to fuck her harder—
“Oh my God. Stop it. You’re doing it again.”
“I’m attracted to you and I think about fucking you a lot, Holly. I’m not sorry about it. If you were honest with yourself, you don’t want me to stop.”
After we finish eating, we walk around the waterfront district. I stop to buy Holly flowers. She eyes me warily.
“What?” I ask.
Bringing the extravagant bunch to her nose, she inhales. “You’re being a very good boyfriend, are you sure you’re new at this?”
I chuckle and take her free hand in mine, ignoring the sudden sense of rightness that settles in my bones. “Haven’t you heard, Ms. Winters? I’m good at everything I do.”
“So, if you are so good at this boyfriend business, why do you avoid relationships?”
When we get to the car, I open her door, holding the flowers for her while she gets buckled. I lean in closer than necessary to give them back, unable to stop myself from being close to her. “I know myself too well. I’ve been tempted, on occasion, to give it a shot...but I’m just not interested in settling down.”
She gives me a look that stalls my heart for a second. Like she feels sorry for me. Well, I don’t need or want her pity. I’m happy with my life. I tweak her nose lightly and close her in, giving myself a break as I round the front of the car.
Something about Holly is really getting to me. I think again of Laura Ingalls Wilder and chuckle. Holly is so far away from my usual dates she may as well be from a different time. I like redheads, though, and Holly’s cinnamon tresses are silky and shiny, even if I can imagine them in braids. In fact, that might be hotter than I originally thought.
Something to hold on to.
So, okay, I like her hair. It’s sexy. Big deal. She’s still a little short for my tastes, though that also makes me feel more protective and primal. Like you need to feel any more virile, asshole. Besides, I like women who wear make-up and heels. Women who spend a lot of time and effort luring men to their web. Holly’s natural look works for her, but it isn’t my type.
So why am I spending this much time convincing myself of it?
I check the time on my phone. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop before I take y
ou to your car?” I ask. “I need to let my dog out.”
“That’s fine. I love dogs. Besides, this will give me a chance to see the lair of Mr. Virile,” she teases. “What kind of dog do you have?”
“I’m not sure, but you can rule out anything small. Boss was a rescue from the side of the road a few years ago. He outgrew my apartment six months later, so I bought a house for him. He damn near needs his own pasture.” I smile, remembering the awkward puppy Boss used to be. He’s still awkward, just no longer a puppy.
“Sounds to me like you and Boss are having a long-term relationship. Tell me, do you often find yourself out at a park or a beach, looking at other dogs, and regretting that you committed to Boss, wishing you could bring one of those other dogs home instead?”
I laugh and pull onto the freeway. “No.”
“No? You’re a one-dog man then? Interesting.” She smiles smugly. “You own a home and a dog. It doesn’t seem like a stretch to me that you might actually be more of a relationship man than you think.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” she asks. Damn, that voice of hers feels like a physical stroke over my erogenous zones. Which is basically my whole body right now.
“If you’re so big on committed relationships, where’s yours?”
She shrugs. “I haven’t found the right guy yet.”
“Where have you been looking?”
She sends me a serious side-eye. “What, do you think you have advice for me?”
“I teach people how to hook up with each other. It doesn’t preclude long-term hook-ups if that is what both parties want.”
“I highly doubt I am going to meet the man of my dreams in a bar using your get-laid-quick tricks.”
“I don’t know about that...tell me a little bit about the man of your dreams.”
She sends me a startled look. “Well, he’s...nice.”
Bullshit. A huff escapes my lungs. “Nice? The man of your dreams is nice? Try again, this time give me some of that honesty you were talking about the other night.”