3.
ELIZABETH
“Miss Lyons?”
Thomas’s voice broke through my past thoughts.
“We’re almost in town. I thought you might want to look around. It will be dark when we leave, and I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”
“Thank you,” I said as my eyes fell upon oak-lined streets.
Most of the homes were set far enough back from the roadway that I couldn’t see them, but I could tell when one was special. It was as though the trees knew it, too. They had grown tall and lush to protect all the magic that lived here, keeping it well hidden from prying eyes.
We pulled up to a gated drive, and Thomas checked a Post-it note stuck to the side of the passenger seat before punching in the required code. The wide gates swung open without a sound, and I audibly gasped at what appeared before us.
“Jesus, Thomas, this is stunning.”
I looked around at the perfectly manicured garden with fountains and small sculptures adorning it. The front lawn alone was bigger than most of the lots in LA—unless you lived in Beverly Hills or Bel Air. Honestly, I sort of felt like I was in one of those cities as we pulled onto the stone-paved driveway.
The home itself was two stories, but it was wider instead of taller. The windows were lit up in every direction, nary a curtain or covering to be seen. The entire second story had a balcony edged in ornamental iron mixed with miniature cement columns. Gas lamps, all glowing and flickering in the softening daylight, hung evenly across the front of the first and second stories.
If one could fall in love with a house, I thought I did right then. “This is unbelievable,” I commented to Thomas as he opened my door for me and offered his hand.
Upon exiting the car, I was met by another suit-clad gentleman carrying a silver tray of three champagne flutes. He offered me one before gesturing toward another well-dressed gentleman, who had suddenly appeared and moved to the car behind us.
“Good evening, Miss Lyons. I’m Shane,” he said with a smile.
I noted that I hadn’t told him my name yet. Impressive, I thought to myself.
“If you’ll follow me,” he jutted his elbow for me to hold before proceeding to walk me toward the entrance of the house.
I stared at the oversized double glass doors as we stopped in front of a giant of a man holding a clipboard. He looked like a bouncer who stood guard outside of dance clubs.
“David, this is Miss Lyons,” Shane announced before removing my arm from his.
David scanned down his list and scribbled something with his pen before greeting me with a tight lipped smile.
“Miss Lyons, it’s nice to see you. Please come in.” He waved a hand inside. “Is there anything else you need?”
“The powder room?” I asked with my clutch tucked firmly against my side.
“Make a right after the Monet, and go through the double doors at the end of the hallway. It will be on your left.”
“Thank you.” I touched his arm in a polite gesture while trying to remember all the directions.
I swore, I looked down at the flooring for only a moment before I crashed into a hard body and spilled part of my drink.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I said before looking up and meeting light hazel eyes that instantly hypnotized me. Why did they look so familiar?
“I’m not.” His voice was deep and throaty as his eyes raked me from head to toe with no shame.
Wiping the frown from my face, I regained my composure. “I was looking at the floor and not where I was walking. Did I get champagne on you?”
“I’m fine.” He brushed a single droplet from his jacket sleeve. “I’m Daniel Alexander.”
He extended his hand, and I forced myself to shake it.
“Of course you are,” I said, slightly tossing back my head.
Barbara would love to hear this story tomorrow.
“Oh, you know who I am? I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. My assistant did all the research and then forced me to read it.”
He laughed, and his face crinkled in a way that showed he did it a lot—laugh that was. Lines around his eyes creased like they were always there, and I found them charming. I stared at said lines as if they were magical beings, and I wondered what it was, or who, that made him laugh so often.
“See something you like?” he teased, breaking the spell I was under, as he cocked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, the floor,” I said before glancing back down at it.
“Italian marble. Every inch of it was flown in from this tiny town in Italy. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
How the hell did he know that? “It is. I was thinking about how it looks exactly as I pictured from a script I recently read. It’s almost like the story was talking about this particular house.”
“Maybe it was,” he offered simply.
“Or maybe I’ve just found my perfect location for the interior and exterior home shots,” I bit back with more fire in my tone than I had intended.
His mouth upturned into a cocky half smile. “You talk to your boyfriend with that mouth?”
I shook my head at his ridiculous question. “Is that your way of asking me if I’m single?”
“Are you?”
“Why do you care?”
“’Cause I want to know.” He blinked once before refocusing his hazel gaze on me. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, and I’m not looking for one either—you know, if that was your next question.”
Daniel laughed again. “Feisty. Most women aren’t feisty around me.”
“Let me guess, they drop their panties at the mere sight of you?” The thought had crossed my mind.
He leaned in close to me, his mouth nearing my ear. “Usually.”
“How charming and wonderful for you to get off so easily—pun intended.” Normally, I wouldn’t behave so crass at a professional event, but Daniel’s ego seemed to bring out the best in me. Instead of berating myself for being so cavalier around him, I made a mental note that I never planned on seeing or speaking to him again, so my attitude couldn’t hurt. I turned away to find the powder room, suddenly remembering where I was headed before running into Mr. Super Hot Distraction.
My forward movement stopped with a jerk as he tugged on my arm. “I never ask them to act like that. They just do. And I never said I take them up on it either.”
“Oh, I’m sure you sit at home every night with your dick in your hands, wondering what on earth to do with it.” I rolled my eyes, not believing a word he’d said.
“I never said that either. I fuck, Elizabeth, and I do it often. But it’s with women I trust and have known for years.”
“Wait, what? How do you know my name?” I stumbled through my question.
“You’re not the only one who did the homework.”
Cute. Damn it, he’s cute.
“As I was saying, I only sleep with women I’ve known for a long time.”
“I don’t remember asking,” I halted his declaration in a desperate attempt to make him stop talking so that I could force my gaze away from his mouth.
He laughed. “You wanted to know.”
I did.
“I really didn’t,” I played.
“Well, just for future reference, I never sleep with any random panty-droppers I meet out.”
“Like I said before, how charming. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I pulled my arm out of his grasp and walked straight ahead, pretending that I wasn’t flustered and completely turned on by his touch.
“Don’t I get credit for having friends with benefits?” he shouted at my retreating back.
I stopped mid-stride. “You’re joking, right?”
“No. I mean, isn’t that better than screwing whatever walks?”
“It’s funny because I bet you think these women don’t have feelings for you. Do you have any idea how we function?” I found myself growing more and more flustered with each word he’d spoken.
He stepped toward me as his eyes roamed down the length of my body. I stopped myself from shivering, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest instead.
“I have a pretty good idea about how you function.”
“Then, you’re an even bigger idiot than you look. Bet you a hundred bucks that at least one of them is in love with you.” I smacked my lips closed and jutted my hip.
His head drew back slightly as he frowned. “No way. Feelings are not in the arrangement.”
“You seriously think not one of your”—I cleared my throat and lowered my voice—“fuck buddies isn’t hoping you’ll change your mind about her eventually?”
“No way,” he responded with confidence.
“Girls always want to be the chosen one, especially with the type of guy who never settles down. We love being the one who you change all your rules for. We live for that shit. And if we think there’s even a remote chance in hell of that happening, we’ll stick around and wait for you to realize it. It’s in our DNA.”
“Now, who’s the idiot?” he said with a laugh, clearly not believing a thing I said.
“Still you ’cause you know I’m right. If you don’t, then you’re even dumber than I originally thought.” I turned on my heel and hustled to the bathroom before closing the door behind me.