Chapter 3
How did he make drinking a juice box look sexy?
Lucy grabbed her water and headed for the office. The house felt strangely silent with her friends still out. Inside the familiar pale-pink walls, she sank onto a loveseat. While the walls and the framed pictures from past parties screamed “girly,” the loveseat placed opposite two balloon-back chairs spoke to the Victorian Era.
I should have served his drink in here, she thought. He wouldn’t have stayed so long or asked so many questions.
Of course, she’d blabbered on and on about the woes of meeting strangers through apps and websites. All to a man who probably snapped his fingers and women fought for the chance to share a drink, a meal, even a night with a young, sexy, and ridiculously wealthy man.
“Not probably. Definitely,” she muttered to the empty room. She’d witnessed women rush across crowded bars as if they were ninja warriors on a dating mission, all to meet her brother. And Finn’s net worth didn’t come close to Jared’s billionaire status. Her brother also lacked his business partner’s charm.
Turning to the window, she spotted her friend’s white Honda Civic rolling over the narrow driveway to the parking area in the rear of the rental house. Justin Timberlake’s ode to dance blasted from the car.
So much for peace and quiet, she thought as car doors slammed.
“We brought ice cream!” Emma’s voice boomed through the house. Footsteps followed. The Belle look-a-like with her wavy, brown hair and big brown eyes appeared in the doorway, holding a plastic grocery store bag. “Chocolate peanut butter, vanilla, mint chip.”
“And they’re all for you,” Nicole proclaimed. If the tall woman with mocha skin had an online dating profile, she’d give her Japanese mother credit for her ability to play Mulan in Orlando, where she’d first met Emma and Lucy. And she’d acknowledge her African-American father for her six-month stint on a cruise ship playing Tiana. But Lucy would argue that the way her friend’s face lit up when she chatted with a child was Nicole’s biggest asset regardless of her costume.
“Well, I did miss the main course at dinner tonight.” Lucy reached for the bag and withdrew the mint chocolate chip carton. “How was the shopping?”
Nicole shook her head. Her straight, black hair—cut to match Mulan’s blunt bob—brushed her shoulders. “First, I want to hear about why you ended another date in the kitchen.”
“Another disaster,” Lucy said with a sigh.
“We want details,” Emma said. “Was he hideous?”
“Only when he opened his mouth,” Lucy admitted. “By the time I finished the chips, I knew he just wanted to score. And he thought I would be stupid enough not to notice the flashing warning signs that he was a villain, not a prince.”
“At least Jared was there to drive you home,” Emma said. “Nice of him.”
“Hmmm.” Lucy focused on digging for mint-chip chunks in her ice cream. She didn’t want to think about how Jared’s gaze had drifted south when she’d mentioned Hugh’s “thigh-gap” comment. Or how she’d felt disgust when her dinner date started talking about her legs, but an undeniable stab of awareness when Jared looked at her. She lifted the spoon to her mouth. She certainly did not want to reflect on how she’d caught a glimpse of Jared’s lips wrapped around that straw and wondered how his mouth would feel on her.
I was turned-on watching a billionaire drink a juice box.
Her imagination had clicked over to fantasyland the minute he’d climbed out of his sports car and followed her into the house. And this particular part of her dream world had nothing to do with ball gowns and parties. There was something about the way Jared moved, commanding the space and demanding attention. He felt larger than life even when he was sitting at her kitchen counter.
I bet he dominates in bed without even trying.
He wouldn’t need fifty shades of toys. Jared would control the room the moment he walked through the door.
But Jared belonged in fantasyland. Because in reality? She wanted a keeper. A man who would be there when she woke up in the morning and kiss her goodnight at the end of a long day. Not a man who moved from one multi-million-dollar deal to the next and spent his down time playing with his expensive toys. His life moved at a different pace.
And he doesn’t believe in magic.
She’d read the truth in his movie-star face. But she was the fool who’d sat the billionaire bachelor down at her kitchen counter and talked about first-date chemistry while admiring his lips.
“We have all the supplies for Saturday,” Emma said.
And just like that, the spell was broken. Lucy locked the erotic image of Jared’s mouth wrapped around the plastic straw away and focused on her friends.
“Unless Hope’s father adds another craft hour.” Nicole settled into one of the chairs. Emma followed, claiming the second.
“At this point, Mr. Morgan has paid for an Ultimate Princess Party with two princesses. He’s added art projects and a visit by a fairy,” Emma pointed out.
Nicole nodded. “Another craft hour for thirty four-years olds would be absurd. They’ll be exhausted. Add in the pizza and cake? This party will go all day. Great for our bottom line, but what about naptime for the little ones?”
“You’re forgetting the bouncy castle.” Lucy dug into her carton. “Mr. Morgan’s plan to make his little girl’s birthday unforgettable might backfire. I see meltdown central after the first three hours.”
“Single dad,” Nicole said. “That’s the part I’m worried about. We can handle meltdowns. But the birthday girl’s father mentioned a keg in the game room for ‘the guys.’ ”
Emma’s brown eyes widened. “You think we might have a drunk dad situation?”
Nicole nodded. “Drunk and all hands. Do you remember the first meeting? He tossed out a line about the ‘lucky beasts that get to peek under the petticoats’?”
“I’d blocked that out.” Lucy lowered her ice cream.
“Most men are pigs.” Nicole pointed a finger at her. “Which is why you need to stop with the online dating. You can’t possibly find your perfect match by paging through pictures on your phone.”
“Focus on the party.” Lucy licked her spoon. I’ve spent enough time talking about my love life tonight.
“We could always ask one of our guy friends to tag along and act as security,” Emma said. “Maybe hire one of the men who plays prince charming in Orlando?”
“No, we’ve managed drunk dads before, and we’ll do it again,” Lucy said firmly. “We don’t need a prince.”