She has no idea he’s the inventor of an app that allows the user to track their multiple love interests. The user inputs all of their information so he can keep them straight. By adding the app to their cell phone without them knowing, of course, it gives little pointers when the user indicates that he’s about to meet up with one of them.
It reminds the user of things he found out about them—their favorite flower, color, age. Pretty much any detail he needs to recall about them.
It also will give him a signal that sounds like a text is coming in when another love interest is closing in, so that he has ample time to move his situation to another location. It gives him the details about what direction the woman is coming in from and her estimated time of arrival.
It’s called the Polyamory Handler (PH) for short. It was designed for people who like to have more than one relationship going at a time and prefer to keep them secret. And the little app has made him rich.
He’s just turned thirty-five and the lifestyle he’s leading is a thing he has always wanted. That’s until he sees her again.
He hasn’t seen her since she graduated from high school. She moved off to go to college and neither ever returned to their small hometown. She’s made quite a bit of money on her own. She made a little over a million in the last year.
She’s a graphic designer and does tons of bestselling book covers and album covers. And she’s beginning to dabble in cinematography, doing some small special effect scenes for movies, using her skills as a graphic design artist.
Because of her involvement with him in her younger years, she thinks all men are serial cheaters and none can be trusted. She’s kept them all at arms-length, only using them when she needs a bit of action, but getting serious with no one.
When he tells her why he’s rich, she’s not surprised, and tells him he is the master at that after all. She notes in her mind that she wants nothing to do with him romantically anymore.
The two had great chemistry in their early school days and both feel it again, but she’s grown and not into games. At least not with him. The truth is, she’s played her fair share of games with men since he taught her how to so well. She tells him that she must not have been made to be loved and have the normal relationship thing.
When she tells him that, it makes him feel bad.
For the first time ever, he feels bad about what he’s doing.
He finds himself wanting to fix it for her and show her that she can be loved.
He makes a vow to himself to get back in her life and show her she’s very loveable—only she’s not about to let him in.
He has to work hard to get her to even let him take her to dinner. After a few drinks and with the romantic atmosphere, she gives into his advances. But she lets him know before-hand that it’s only for one night.
The next night she gets a date with another man to go to an awards show, where she’s up for a special effects award. It’s on television, and when he sees it, he’s livid she didn’t ask him to go with her.
They go back and forth, with her saying they have nothing real and him falling more and more in love with her all the time. She is too, but won’t admit it, as she thinks he’ll do what he’s always done and mess around. She thinks he’s incapable of being a one-woman man.
But as she goes on dates with other men, she finds herself comparing them to him all the time and wishes he would settle down with her.
They both use condoms all the time, as that’s a must when you have many sexual partners. She gets a pregnancy scare and laughs as she’s telling him about it.
He tells her that if he was to have a kid with anyone, he’d want it to be her. She tells him she doesn’t want to raise a kid alone. Her mother had to do that when her dad ran off, and she doesn’t want that for any kid of hers.
His wheels start turning and he asks her to marry him, to which she laughs and tells him no way in hell.
He digs in his heels and tells her they should move in together to give it a trial run. She’s sure he’ll really want out once he has to live with someone, something he’s never done. So she takes him up on the offer and moves into his mansion with him.
She gives him the real deal version of living with a woman and amps it up as if they’d been married ten years, letting all her ways hang out and even going overboard with many of the things married couples gripe about.
Instead of freaking out and bailing, he finds himself feeling very comfortable and knowing she’s the one for him. He takes her to Spain and asks her to marry him. She’s surprised. She knows she loves him and wants to take the chance that he won’t screw her over.
She accepts and he’s over the moon. Except, when they get back, she sets up a little test for him by getting a friend of hers—who he doesn’t know—to come on to him to see if he tells her he’s engaged.
Only, he overhears her on the phone and is pissed by her distrust. So when the woman comes around, he flirts and acts as if he does want to go out with her, never mentioning that he’s engaged.
The only thing is, it’s not the right woman, and when his girl catches him talking to her, she loses it and throws his ring at him and disappears.
He has to search and search for her. Then he sees that she’s managed to secretly install his own app on his phone and she’s tracking him. So he leaves his phone at home and manages to find her at her home.
There, he confronts her about knowing about the set up and says he’s sorry it was the wrong woman. He loves her untrusting ass and wants to marry her and have a family. He’s never wanted anything more.
She feels awful for setting him up like that and tells him they should move the wedding up, as they already have their marriage license. So they go and get married by a justice of the peace and finally live happily ever after.
Collision Course Part One
Chapter 1
JASON
Outside, a storm is raging in the city of New York. I’m not outside, though. I’m inside the prestigious Tribeca Rooftop, at a charity event for the Humane Society.
I love dogs. So when I was asked to attend, I immediately RSVP’d with a yes. Dogs and I see eye to eye on many things.
I like the way they live their lives—doing what they want, when they want, and with however many they want. I’m not a man who believes in monogamy. Never have, never will.
My invention is what made me rich enough to be asked to this event. I invented this little app to help people who like to keep more than one fish on the line at a time.
It’s a sweet little system that makes sure you don’t run into girlfriend or boyfriend number two or three when you’re out with someone else. My app, the PH or Polyamory Handler, is for those who have more than one love interest at a time, but don’t want their various love interests to know that.
Those types of things never go over well, no matter how hard anyone tries to go the honest route. Believe me, I’ve tried that. So much blood, so many tears, and so much destruction!
Neither males nor females like finding out they’re only one of several, or in my case, many. It’s a shame, really. Dogs don’t seem to mind, though.
I’ve been called a dog, or a wolf, on occasion. Okay, about two hundred or so occasions. It hurt the first hundred times, then it stopped hurting and I accepted the fact I am what I am.
Then it occurred to me that there have to be more like me—more people who need the attention of more than one person at a time. So I got to work on an application that would track the people I was involved with.
Keeping tabs on where they were, especially when I was out and about with another love interest, was the main objective. One can imagine how uncomfortable it is when you’re out, having a nice evening with a special someone and another special someone happens upon the scene. It can get really messy!
With the tap of a finger, people can bring up my app, and for the low, low price of only one hundred and fifty dollars a month, they can use my technology to track their partners.
Now, this is not merely a tracking device. No, no!
This app stores the person’s complete name, including any pet names or specific terms of endearment you use for that particular person. It can be a major faux pas to forget that one girl loves to be called baby and another hates it. Thus the need for the cue cards, as I tagged them, to keep the names straight.
Of course, there’s a place to put in their family and friends so you can keep track of all their interests. You make a neat little file on each person you enjoy spending time with. There’s a counter to keep track of the number of dates and where you went on each, as well as the times and dates you’ve been intimate.
And there’s no limit on how many you can track at any given time. So that makes it a limitless resource for anyone who likes to dabble in the love market. I love to dabble.
Women of every type are my type!
Even now, as I stand in front of an enormous window looking out at the rainy New York skyline, I’m catching women out of the corner of my eye. If one grabs my attention, then I’ll hone in on her.
Most of the time, the women come to me first. I rarely have to go up to one. Women flock to me for some reason. I weed out a few of them, but mostly I give anyone a chance.
If I decide to make a woman a member of the Jason Brennan Pack, I’ll ask for her cell phone and tap in my phone number, but also do a quick download of my app to her phone, which goes in under a ghost mode so she’s completely unaware that I can now track her.
It’s genius, I know!
I’ve been told my invention is an invasion of privacy. To those critics, I give the bird. Do you want to know about invasion of privacy?
Have one girlfriend and let her catch you with another. Your shit all gets gone through. House, phone, car, your body. It’s a real invasion of privacy then.
So my motto is to keep things straight. Life is so much better when you’re organized.
Someone taps a glass, trying to capture our attention. I turn away from the window and look toward the front of the large room they’ve gathered us in.
A blonde woman in a red dress is the one who wants our attention. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to invite you all to purchase the book we published last month. It has pictures of many different strays from all over the United States, their individual success stories, and how the Humane Society made that happen for them.”
A few people begin to line up to make the purchase and I find myself moving forward to buy one of those books too. I do like a good dog success story after all.
I can’t have a dog myself. I’m always here, there, and yonder. I try not to stay in one place too long. It’s much too easy to get caught if you do.
That’s the other thing my app has—little suggestions and hints to let the purchaser do the smartest things when playing the field. Tips like, don’t go to the same restaurant all the time. Someone is bound to tell on you if you do.
Little helpful things like that go a long way toward help newbies to the game of juggling love interests do better than if they were left to their own devices. And I am always ready to help my fellow man, or woman for that matter.
I’m not a hypocrite. Women are players of the game of love too. And far be it from me to deny them access to my plethora of knowledge.
The smell of a fruity perfume wafts passed my nose as a woman comes up to get in line behind me. Her soft voice comes from very close to my ear, “Hi. You’re that billionaire I read about, aren’t you?”
I turn around and find a tall, thin redhead batting her fake eyelashes at me. “You haven’t read about me, I assure you.”
Her brows furrow. “So you aren’t rich?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said you haven’t read about me. How I made my billions is not public knowledge and never will be,” I say, then take a sip of my champagne.
“And why is that,” she asks as she reaches out and takes my flute of champagne from me and takes a sip herself, leaving her red lipstick imprint on the crystal.
She hands it back to me, making sure her fingers graze my hand. I give her my million-dollar smile, as I can see she’d like to become a member of the Jason Brennan Pack, but I already have a redhead in New York and she’s more well-rounded than this skinny trick.
“That’s because my invention is top secret.” I place the half-full glass on a table near me.
She notices I’ve ditched my drink, as her eyes are glued to it. “Top secret, like you sold it to the FBI or the CIA?”
“Top secret, as in I’m not telling you.” I turn back around, ignoring the woman.
“What an ass,” I hear her tell the woman behind her.
I think she’s an ass. It’s obvious she’s here to try to find a rich man for herself. Nothing more than that. She isn’t here for her love of animals. She’s here to snag a healthy wallet.
I hate gold diggers!
When I was twenty-seven, I came up with my app and by the next year, I was well on my way to making my first billion. A year after that, when I turned twenty-nine, I was knee-deep in money and very well established.
Last month, I turned thirty and had a nice dinner with one of my girls, then a late0-night drink with another, and I woke up the next morning with yet a different woman and we had crazy morning sex for three hours.
It was a great birthday!
My mother called me on my birthday and asked me when I was going to find a nice girl, settle down, and give her some grandkids. I told her never.
Settling down is for people who quit playing the game. I’m no quitter!
There are those people who think the person with the most toys in the end is the winner. I’m the guy who thinks the one with the most notches on their bedpost is the real winner.
But in the game, one can’t hurt too many people, or they lose. It’s a delicate sport I play. Emotions and feelings are involved. A crying woman actually hurts my heart.
I hate it!
So it’s never my intention to hurt anyone. Not ever. Hence the need for the application I created.
It stops others from being hurt, but you still get to live life the way you want to. I did write up a code of ethics that a purchaser must read before I allow them to make the purchase.
Rule number one. You must go and get a complete physical and have blood work done to be absolutely sure you are disease free. This is essential.
And there’s a reminder on the app to do this once a year. So you never forget. Health is not a thing to mess around with.
Also, I advise females to use two types of birth control. One that is taken in some form, but also condoms. I advise all to use condoms every single time.
When choosing this lifestyle, it’s not fair to bring some poor innocent kid into the mix. Not only is it bad for the kid, it messes up your game, too.
If you fuck up, don’t follow the rules, and get some chick pregnant, or you’re a chick and you find yourself pregnant, I strongly advise that person to end their gaming days.
Stop the monthly subscription to my app, buy some wedding rings, and do the right thing. It’s only my advice, but I put it in all caps, so they’d see I really mean it.
Lightning strikes outside and the lights go dim for a moment as the white light zig-zags passed the window. I can’t see for a moment, due to the flash, and when my vision comes back, I see the line has moved and I’m still standing in the same place.
The redhead taps my shoulder. “Care to move up, stud? Or should we pass you?”
“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” I move up and grab what looks like a Tom Collins off the tray of a passing waiter.
My head’s been kind of cloudy here lately. Turning thirty may not sound like a big deal when you say it. But, physically, it makes a difference.
I’m not saying I feel like an old man or anything like that. I just have a weird urgency. For what, I don’t know.
Maybe my crazy mother has put a curse on me to find a woman and settle down. I shudder
with the thought.
A wife, kids, a few pets. Yuk!
That life is for the yuppies and nerds of the world. Not me!
Not the man who invented the perfect thing to keep track of as many women as he wants. I think I have fifty now. Worldwide, of course!
In New York, I only have three. The majority of my women are from the southern states. I’m a sucker for southern girls, probably because I grew up in a little town in Texas. It was much too small to get away with my antics. My parents still live there, though. It’s been years since I visited. I should make some time to do that.
The person in front of me steps out of the way, and I see a young woman sitting at one side of the table. She’s signing the inside of the book for the lady in front of me.
“Who should I make this to?” she asks.
I know that voice!
That sweet, southern voice from my younger days. “Brittany Caldwell?
Chapter 2
BRITTANY
A familiar voice fills my ears as I sign the inside cover of the book I made an award-winning cover for. The man’s voice does something to my body not many can do.
Heat rushes through me and my insides vibrate as a dampness invades my nether regions. I slowly raise my head to look at the man who’s called out my name.
“Jason Brennan.”
His entire face goes into a giant smile. “Brittany, it is you!”
I try to mask any enthusiasm I have, as this man is the first man I ever let in my pants. And boy did he do a number on my heart. “Yep.”
I go back to signing the book in front of me and find myself trying to come up with any reason in the world to leave the table right this minute.
I close the book and look up at the young woman who bought it. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice evening.” I look at the lady next to me, who’s selling the books. “I’m about to puke. I have to go.”
Standing up very quickly, I walk away from the little table and find the sound of footsteps coming up behind me quickly. “Britt.” His hand touches my elbow.
The Surgeon’s Secrets: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Page 60