CHAPTER THREE

 

DANNY

“I know we’re supposed to meet to work out the details, but I have a job for you.”

That’s the greeting I receive when I meet Ronnie in the lobby of her hotel. Her hair is pulled back into a smooth ponytail, and she’s wearing jean shorts and this off-the-shoulder white top. With the pale gloss on her lips and the distinct lack of heavy makeup, she’s probably going to get carded when she orders wine with dinner.

Although dinner is, apparently, not with me. A shame, actually, because I was looking forward to getting to know her more than I was eating a quality meal on someone else’s dime.

“You sure?” I say. I’ve been thinking about our conversation since I dropped her off earlier this afternoon. Not the work aspect of it—I couldn’t care less if we ever figure out those details. They’ll iron themselves out over time. No, I can’t stop thinking about her, what she said, what she didn’t say.

Her worry over what her family thinks of her is surprising. First, they adore everything about her, with the small exception of her residence in New York. Like every Midwestern family, they’d rather she live closer to the nest. But other than that, she can do no wrong. She’s the only girl in a family of boys, she’s successful, smart, gorgeous, witty—hell, she’s damn near perfect.

And she’s insecure over her perception of what they think.

I get it, to a degree. I used to care what my parents thought, but it was too exhausting because in my case, I wasn’t perfect. Far from it, in fact. And no matter how much my dad tried to coach me, I was never, ever going to be like him. Since he refused to give up trying, I gave up caring instead. Works well for all of us.

But Ronnie, she doesn’t have that problem. So why doesn’t she want them to know she’s home?

“I’m texting you the meeting point right now.” Her head is bowed over her phone, and she’s tapping on the screen with both thumbs. Guess I’m not going to find out her deepest, darkest secrets tonight.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket. The coordinates are to Topgolf Wood Dale. Sweet.

“She’s going to want to sleep with you,” Ronnie says, pulling me from my fantasy of making the perfect swing, time and time again. My golf fantasies rival my sex fantasies. Unfortunately, I don’t get much real-life practice with either one.

“Now that’s the way I like to start a date.”

“This isn’t a date, Danny. It’s business.” She’s irritated, but then again, she’s almost always irritated with me.

“But the nature of the business is dating,” I point out.

She grinds her teeth and wrinkles her nose and it takes another five years off her appearance. There are so many fascinating facets to this woman. I’ve experienced her down and dirty, barking orders as she sets up backyard weddings for her brothers. I’ve witnessed her as an elegant bridesmaid. I’ve even met businesswoman Ronnie, wearing a pencil skirt and high-heeled Mary Janes that definitely enhanced my fantasies that particular evening.

Apparently I have a thing for ladies’ footwear. Or maybe Ronnie’s footwear. I glance down at her rhinestone-studded flip-flops, showing off the iridescent purple color on her toes.

“If you do sleep with her, I’m doubling the fee.”

I frown. “I’m not keen on getting paid to sleep with women.”

She rolls her eyes and throws a hand in the air. “You have literally no scruples, and you’re suddenly having issues with this business you wanted to start, by the way?”

“First of all, I do have scruples. Just not quite as many or as strict as most people. And second, the business is Rent-A-Date, not Rent-A-Sex.”

“It’s Rent-A-Danny, actually, and are you seriously turning down the possibility of getting laid? Here, let me show you a picture of your date, so you understand what you’re—”

I push her phone away. “You’re missing the point, but whatever. Fine. I’ll sleep with her. Anything else I need to know about tonight’s appointment?”

Now she’s sputtering, trying to form words and failing. Her face is red and her eyes are wide, like she’s insulted by what I’ve said. Ronnie Frost is a hell of a conundrum.

“I didn’t say you have to sleep with her,” she clarifies. “I’m only warning you that she’ll want to. And she’s way more assertive than Yvonne, who let you off with nothing more than a peck on the cheek on her doorstep.”

I grin. “She told you that, huh?” I knew damn well Yvonne wanted me to go upstairs to her apartment with her, but she was still smarting over her recent breakup. She would have regretted the decision before we got to second base, and I couldn’t do that to her. She’s a nice girl, and she deserves a lot more than I’d ever be able to give her. Since, well, that would have been approximately two hours of my time.

“Yeah, surprised the hell out of me. But I suppose you were all worn out from jacking off while talking to me on the phone that morning.”

I chuckle. “Darling Ronnie, whacking my wanker is a prelude. I’m always ready for action involving two people instead of one. We can head up to your room and I’ll give you a demonstration, if you’d like.” I wave at the elevator behind her. Her eyes widen again as she shifts to the side, like she’s worried she might accidentally back up through those open doors and end up between the sheets with me. But then she stops moving so she can give my shoulder a shove.

“Just go. She’s expecting you within the hour.”

Game over. For the moment, anyway. “Okay, can you give me any details? Like her name, maybe?”

“Oh, right.” She blows out the breath I think she’s been holding, maybe expecting me to try harder to get her upstairs and naked. The idea has merit. A lot of it.

But duty calls.

“Her name is Sarah Quincy. She’s a friend of Yvonne’s. Apparently, Yvonne is already spreading the word about our new business. Anyway, it’s her brother’s engagement party. You are her date, and your objective is to fend off her family, who don’t understand how her younger brother got tied down first.”

“Wow, what a stupid thing to harp on.”

“Agreed. She almost succumbed to their wishes a few years ago, until she caught her fiancé banging another woman at a New Year’s party. Now she’s into short-term, mutually beneficial relationships with terms that are clearly spelled out in advance. And one of the rules is no family functions. Which is where you come in.”

“Got it,” I say, rubbing my hands together.

“There’s a coffee shop across the street from Topgolf. You’re to meet her there, so you can walk into the party together.”

I hold out my hand, like I want to shake. Ronnie gives it a dubious look before sliding her own into mine. I use the connection to pull her close, so that she bumps into my body. I savor the brief contact and the glimpse down the front of her shirt—she’s wearing a bra this time—and then I bend my head so my lips are next to her ear. “I’m all over it,” I whisper, fluttering the fine hairs there. She shivers, and I let her go before strutting toward the door.

“Text me when you’re done,” she calls out, and I lift my arm to wave without turning around.

***

I text her and my phone rings two seconds later. “The date’s over already?” she says by way of greeting.

“Hello, Ronnie, how are you?” I mock.

Her sigh is drawn out and full of agitation, which makes me chuckle. “So what happened?”

“Meet me in the bar in your hotel, and I’ll tell you all about it. Unless you’d rather I come up to your room?”

She makes this noise, a little eep, and then says, “No. I’ll be down in a minute,” before disconnecting the call.

I lean back in the booth I’ve already secured in a dark corner of the bar and watch as a male server with tattoos showing where he’s rolled up the sleeves of his white, button-down shirt heads my way. Damn, I should have scoped out the waitstaff before deciding to entice her into joining me here. With the tats, that impressive chest his shirt is molded to, the long hair, and the earrings decorating his ears, I’m a little worried he might distract my new business partner.

“I’ll take a Two Hearted Ale, and the lady heading my way will probably want Johnny Walker Blue Label on the rocks.”

Sexy Waiter Guy glances over his shoulder, and we both watch Ronnie as she makes her way toward us. She’s still wearing the off-the-shoulder top and those short denim shorts and the sexiest flip-flops I’ve ever laid eyes on. I hear the server’s sharp intake of breath, so I stand to greet her, pulling her into my arms as soon as she’s within reach. She pushes at my chest, and I release her when he turns away and heads to the bar to put in our drink order.

“What the hell was that for?” she demands as she slides into the booth across from me.

“You look hot, by the way.”

“So that gives you permission to hug me?”

“Nope. I do that because I know it gets under your skin. And I like to try to cop a feel wherever I can.”

She rolls her eyes. “Did you take it upon yourself to order for me?”

“I did. Johnny Walker Blue Label.”

Her narrow, dark brows lift. “Nice. Although no doubt this will be charged to my room.”

“Of course it will.”

Our server returns, and I watch Ronnie while she takes in an eyeful of his painted forearms. I’ve never wanted a tattoo before, but I have this sudden urge to drag her along as I find the nearest parlor and tell them to ink whatever she wants into my skin.

“So,” she says, watching the guy while he walks away. “How did it go? Considering it’s only midnight, I’m guessing you and Sarah didn’t bump uglies.”

“She did try, but the effort was half-assed at best.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Sarah at all.”

I take a pull from my beer. “Turns out, she’s in love with her brother’s best friend.”

Ronnie almost spits out the swallow she’s just taken of her drink. She takes a moment to regain her composure and says, “Kevin? He’s—he’s so…normal.”

I nod. “Kind of a geek, actually. Totally someone her parents would want her to settle down with. Which is exactly why she has been denying herself all these years.”

“Years?”

“Yep. Until tonight, actually.”

She narrows her eyes. “What did you do?”

I stretch my arm across the back of the booth and lower my lids over my eyes, taking in the lovely view of Ronnie sitting in front of me, practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Well?” she demands, taking another slug from her drink.

I grin and lean forward, resting my un-tatted forearms on the table, too proud of my latest accomplishment to play it cool any longer. “I played matchmaker. So, yes, Sarah is getting laid tonight. And probably tomorrow morning, and tomorrow night, and the next—”

She lifts her hand, palm facing me. “Stop. I get it. But how?”

“The usual way, I assume. Although those nerdy types are often into kink, so there’s a distinct possibility there’s nothing at all usual about—”

“Danny.”

I pause, take a swig from my bottle. “Okay, well, she is definitely hot, so I wasn’t opposed to hooking up with her, in the beginning. And her personality reminded me a little of you, so that’s like instant aphrodisiac.”

“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s that little smile tugging at her lips.

“So we walked into the party, holding hands like the good little couple. Her parents were standing at the door, greeting people, and I, of course, charmed the pants off them. Not literally though. That wouldn’t have been good. Her dad has these chicken legs, and I don’t even want to think about what they’d look like without anything covering his guy parts.”

“You are really good with absolutely pointless details, do you know that?”

“Know what that says about me? That I’m good at foreplay.”

She chuckles and twirls the narrow cocktail straw in her drink. “Okay, that’s a bit of a leap, but whatever.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s not. Think about it. There are plenty of guys out there who don’t give a shit about foreplay. They only do it because it’s necessary to get to the end product. Like our waiter,” I can’t help but say while I nod in his direction. “He’s the type who just wants to get his rocks off. He will do the bare minimum in order to reach that goal.”

She glances up, catches his eye, and quickly turns back to me. “You don’t know that.” But she sounds doubtful.

“I do know that I’m not one of those guys. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ronnie. I love the chase.”

“This explains so much.”

“And if I love the chase this much, think about how I’ll handle foreplay. I’m gonna drag it out as long as humanly possible. I don’t want it to end, so I’m going to push you until you’re almost there, and then I’m going to pull back.”

She sucks in a sharp spurt of breath.

“And then I’m going to take you high again, get you almost to the top, until you’re ready to explode. And I’m going to back off again. Over and over, until you’re hot and sweaty and needy and begging for release.”

I clear my throat. I’d meant to get her worked up, not myself. Christ. I need a cold shower now.

Ronnie shakes her head while gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles are white. “Danny, we are not here to discuss your ridiculous fantasies. We are here to discuss business. Our business. The one you wanted to start, remember?”

And there’s that icy cold shower.

I lean against the cushioned booth back while my balloon deflates. Our server steps up, and Ronnie glances at his forearms from under her lashes while I try to pull his attention by ordering another round.

Yep, soft as a marshmallow now. But that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? I’m not supposed to win the girl. That’s not in the cards.

It’s all about the fun of the chase.

Ronnie’s phone pings, and she picks it up from the table. She glances at it and then lifts wide eyes to stare at me. “She just paid us. With a”— she looks back at the screen— “fifty percent tip.”

I grin while I enjoy this very tasty and clearly well-deserved beer. “We should go upstairs and celebrate.”

“Oh stop it,” she says, her attention on her phone. She’s tapping away at the screen. “She says she’ll give us a glowing recommendation, in writing, just as soon as we have a website up. I need to get on that. I have some ideas for marketing this gig, too. In the meantime, Sarah’s already suggested your services to three of her friends.” She lifts her glassy-eyed gaze to my face again. “This is real, Danny. It’s really happening. I think you’ve found your calling.”

“Does this mean we aren’t going up to your room tonight?”