CHAPTER FOUR

 

RONNIE

“Well, well, I knew you couldn’t resist.” Danny smirks, leaning in the door of my new apartment. “What was it? The insanely good mental foreplay or the—”

“Don’t make me regret this,” I say, rolling my gaze to the ceiling. It’s a better option than staring at him. That blue shirt really makes his eyes sparkle. Clings to his biceps too, especially where it’s rolled up past his elbow.

“Want my help christening this place?” He pushes away from the door and follows me through the living area. “We can start in the bedroom, move to the couch, and then work our way through each room.”

“Slight hitch. I’ve already made it painfully obvious that I’m not going to sleep with you. Also I won’t have a couch for at least another week.” I wave at the empty area where my newest piece of furniture will go.

“Who says we need a couch?” He bends down and runs his hand across the plush rug I bought this morning.

It was so perfect for this area, and my inner decorator kicked in. Couldn’t pass it up. Should have passed it up if the wolfish grin on his face is any indication. I try not to imagine what he’s thinking as he strokes it.

“I’m flexible. I can work with this. Bet it’d be soft on your bare skin. Heighten the pleasure while I take my time getting you hot and needy.”

Biting my lip, I rub the sole of my foot over the rug and watch the color change. Yes, it really is that soft. “Do you ever give up?”

“Sometimes.” Straightening, he shrugs. “When I have a good enough reason. Which reminds me... how come you haven’t told anyone you’re home yet? It’s been two weeks.”

“Two crazy weeks. I’ve been busy. I had to find this apartment, and booking your dates is a full-time job.” Breakfast dates. Lunch dates. Dinner and dessert dates. “We’re already booked two weeks in advance.”

“Have to say this scheme is the best thing I’ve ever come up with. Having women pay for everything has been a dream of mine. Don’t think I’ve bought anything in the past week.”

“Except that shirt.” I head for the kitchen.

“Oh yeah. Well, appearance is important, right? These women want the perfect date. Not a slouch.”

“Half of them want you to show up naked.” He still hasn’t slept with any of them as far as I know. Kind of surprised that his scruples don’t include taking advantage of women but do include being paid to take advantage of women. “You’ve had a dry couple of weeks.”

“Are you keeping tabs on me? Do you want me to show up naked? Would it help my case?” he asks as I pick my laptop up from the table. “Perhaps tie a red bow around my pecker. ’Cause I would do that for you.”

I almost drop my computer. I can just imagine him showing up at my door butt naked, with one of those red ribbon flowers stuck on his dick. “That’s not... I didn’t ask you to come over because... We have a website.”

“We do?”

Striding across the kitchen, he stands behind me to look over my shoulder. His warm breath hits the side of my neck as he leans closer. “That’s our website?”

“It is. What do you think?”

“You did this?”

“Uh-huh. Paynt taught me the basics. Enough to set up Rent-A-Danny anyway.”

“It’s fantastic.”

“You sound surprised.”

“A little.” My eyes widen, which apparently prompts him to explain further. “Not that you did this. You’re clever and have a great eye. But we’re an escort service. This doesn’t look sleazy. It looks really professional.”

“Thanks.” Warmth spreads through me as I catch a whiff of clean, masculine, boy next door. Friendly, nice, definitely hot. It gets caught in my throat and makes my belly tighten. I’ve never noticed how good he smells before. Well, I lie. We’ve worked together on enough projects now that I’ve been both fortunate and unfortunate enough to have to deal with the whole range of eu de Danny. But I wasn’t as aware as I am now.

“Does that say I smell good?” He reaches around me to take the laptop. “Can I?”

“Sure.” I glance over my shoulder as I hand it to him. That’s what it is. All these women not only think his service is great but they are also aware of how attractive he is. And that, coupled with the conversation we had the other night about foreplay is seriously messing with how I see him.

His arm brushes mine, and I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or actually interested in the website. Except he’s focused on the computer as he pulls a chair out from the table and takes a seat. “Ronnie, this is really great. I knew you were the perfect choice for this venture.”

“It’s all you,” I say. “Women love you. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re giving them exactly what they need. Every single date you’ve had this week has sent in a testimonial. That’s—”

“I’m good at this, Ronnie.” He glances at me. “This is something I’m actually good at.”

“You’ve definitely got a talent for it.” I pour coffee. Mix it with creamer and take him a cup. There’s something about the way he says it, as though he’s surprised we’re doing so well already, that’s at odds with his usual confidence. Surely, he expected this idea to work?

“Thanks.” He takes the cup from my hand and winds his fingers around my wrist at the same time, keeping me close. “Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

“I didn’t.” Not really. We’ve known each other a while. We’ve even worked together to create not one but two perfect weddings, so I was aware of what I was getting into. Besides, starting at the top of this business means I’m not fighting for promotions with people like Carl Blue. As soon as I realized that, I knew Rent-A-Danny was going to be my best bet. Start small and then build on it.

My phone rings, and I glance at where I left it on the table beside the vase full of sunflowers. “Crap. It’s my mother.”

He relinquishes my wrist, and I put a finger to my lips, motioning him to be quiet.

He nods and moves his attention to the laptop screen as he scrolls through the testimonials his clients have left so far. They adore him. He’s handsome, attractive, smells good, makes them laugh, gives them confidence. Refuses to sleep with them.

I clear my throat and answer my phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Why does your Facebook status say it was posted in Chicago? You wouldn’t come home and not tell us, would you? Are you trying to avoid us? We don’t get to see you often enough.”

Ugh. I should have known she’d notice something as small as the location on my posts. My mother has always had an eye for the smallest detail, which I’m proud to have inherited because it’s invaluable in decorating, but not so much when you’re hiding things from her. “I’m not avoiding you, Mom. I was going to tell you I’m in town. I’ve just been busy.”

“How could you have been so busy that you can’t take five minutes to call your mother?”

“Well, I...” I quit my job and moved home to start up a company with Erin’s best friend, selling dates to women who need an escort. I moved home to Chicago so I could monopolize a man for material gain. And the reason I’m avoiding you is because I know the minute I let you know I’m home, you’re going to start worrying about why your daughter, who should be gaga for babies and white dresses, refuses to date anyone who could possibly give her those things. Of course, we’ll have to follow that up with at least an hour of poring over every available man you’ve collected in your address book.

“I’m just saying it would have been nice if you’d called.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“And you’ll come visit this afternoon. We’ll have tea. You need to meet the new neighbor. He’s a single dad. Poor man lost his wife—”

“I’m not sure. I have an important meeting that might turn into drinks with a client.” I glance at Danny. Even though we’ve known each other more than a year now, I don’t know anything about his family. Does he have a sister? Do his parents have expectations they refuse to let go of? Does his father think that just because he’s a guy, he should be conquering the world the way my mother seems to believe I should be conquering marriage and family?

“Here.” Danny holds his hand out for my phone. I don’t know why I give it to him other than the way he’s looking at me like he’s got this. Have to say, if that’s the way he’s treating our clients, I can see why they’re tipping so big.

He takes my phone and puts it to his ear, a smile spreading across his face. “Hi, Mama Frost. How’s my favorite matriarch?”

“Oh.” He takes a sip of his coffee and sneaks a hand into the paper bag on the counter. Should have known he’d eyeballed my pastry while my back was turned. “We ran into each other this morning. Getting coffee at the same place.” He snorts. “Yes, of course she paid for it. Bought me a Danish too.” He rips into it with his teeth.

I glower at him and mouth, “One. I only have one.”

“Of course they aren’t as good as yours. You make the best blueberry Danishes I’ve ever had.” He waves the remains of it in my direction as if to say, want it? When he grins, I see chunks of flaky pastry between his teeth.

Folding my arms across my chest, I shake my head.

His lips curl up as his gaze drops to my breasts. “No, I don’t know how long she’s in town. Right. Yes, she absolutely should have called.”

“Are you kidding?” I whisper, shoving at his chest. “Give me back my phone.”

He grins at me as he catches my hand, keeping it glued to his pec, which is hard under the softness of his shirt. “Yes, she should absolutely meet your neighbor. What did you say his name was? Ben? Right. Afternoon tea. And I’m invited too? Danishes?”

I can’t believe he’s managed to sweet-talk my mother into making pastries for him.

“Absolutely. She’ll be there.” He chuckles. “No. No, if I have to I’ll pick her up and carry her, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary. She really does want to see you. I think she’s already rearranging her meeting for this afternoon.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I mouth at him.

“Of course I will. I wouldn’t miss it, Cynthia. Okay. Ta-ta for now.” He hangs up and gives me my phone. “There. All sorted.”

“Let go of my hand,” I snap at him, yanking my fingers out of his grip. “Do you realize what you just did?”

“I Danny-ed your mother.”

“You Danny-ed...” I sputter into my hand. “That’s so wrong. My mother is not one of your clients.”

“I got her off your back, didn’t I?” He pops the last bite of my pastry into his mouth.

“You set me up on a date. A blind date. With my mother as chaperone. You totally undermined my perfectly plausible excuse. I could have met Yvonne for a drink. Or you and I could have gotten a drink, but now I have to go to my mother’s and listen to her tell me why I won’t be complete until I find a man to settle down with.”

“Don’t forget you need to pop out a couple of kids. You’re playing catch-up here.”

“I have to sit down.” I slip onto a chair.

“There’s an upside to all this.” He comes back to his seat and closes the lid on my laptop.

“What’s the upside?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. You can tell my mother that I lost my job and my new career is managing an escort. I bet she’ll love that.”

“I’ll soften it for her. Make it seem less tawdry.”

“Just great.” I cover my face with my hands.

“And I won’t even charge you.”

“Charge me?” I drop my hands to my lap and gape at him.

“For my services,” he clarifies.

“You put me in this mess in the first place. And you gave her the okay to set me up with her neighbor. And you think I should p-pay for that? I can handle my own mother.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” he says, getting up. “I’ve got a date with my Xbox anyway.”

“No,” I snap, climbing to my feet. “You don’t get out of this. If I have to go, you’re coming too.”

“God, I love it when you’re bossy,” he says. “You get this whole kinky schoolteacher vibe.”

Christ. I can’t even right now with him. “Stay here. I need to go find something to wear to this date you set me up on.”

“You set me up all the time,” he says.

“That’s my job. As your manager.”

“I know.” He smirks. “You keep reminding me. Now go get ready. Wear something conservative. Oh, and those black Mary Janes. Poor, responsible Ben isn’t going to know what hit him.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to take wardrobe advice from you.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs. “First impressions count in these situations.”

“It shouldn’t matter what I wear.” I glare at him. “I’m over this belief that I have to dress to impress, or not impress, men.”

“Slow your roll,” he says. “That wasn’t what I was saying. You could wear a paper bag and you’d still be gorgeous. I’m telling you to think of this date as an interview. You know, dress for the result you want.”

“Oh.” I’m pretty sure I gape at his brilliance. But he’s got it wrong if he thinks I’m going to dress conservatively.

***

My mother doesn’t have terrible taste in men, I’ll give her that. It’s just not my taste. She’s clearly into vanilla bean while I’m more of a peanut butter cookie and chocolate fan. Ben’s good-looking, but he’s classic vanilla; an all-American athlete type, with thick dark hair, brown eyes, and the voice to call plays across a field. His children are adorable, well behaved, carbon copies of their father. In my mother’s mind, she’s probably serving him up in a tall sundae glass with edible diamond chips sprinkled on top. She’s almost certainly preparing his children to call her Nanna.

I, on the other hand, am not imagining riding off into the sunset on the back of Ben’s motorcycle. One which he doesn’t own, by the way, because he’s announced quite a few times that he owns a Honda Accord, which has prompted several discussions between him and my mother on their safety rating and children.

Thankfully, I’m not the kind of woman Ben’s interested in, either. He’s friendly through afternoon tea, polite, cordial. But if he had any inkling that my mother was trying to set us up he’s ignoring it. Probably doesn’t help that I rocked up in my motorcycle boots, studded leather jacket, and with Danny in tow. Though Mom made sure to make it clear that he is a family friend. And Danny’s been in an odd mood too. Might be the low-cut top I paired with my leather skirt. The vee dives pretty deep. Lots of skin. As far from conservative as I could get without looking like a hooker. First impressions are everything in these situations.

“That top’s a bit overkill for afternoon tea, isn’t it?” Mom asks, joining me in the kitchen where I’m washing coffee cups and plates. I needed a minute away from her subtle matchmaking. “There are children present.”

“I didn’t know they’d be here. You didn’t tell me.” I swish the dishrag over the last cup and place it on the draining board. “Mom, do we have to do this every time I come home?”

“What are we doing, love?” She gets out the ClingWrap and starts covering the Danishes. What’s left of them after Danny got to them anyway, which isn’t much. I’d watched him shovel about six of her pastries into his mouth one after the other. No idea where he puts all the food he eats.

“Trying to set me up with the neighbor. Or whoever you can find.” I dry my hands with a tea towel and lean against the counter. This kitchen always smells like desserts. Warmth settles in my chest. We used to bake together a lot when I was growing up. Used to imagine that I would be doing the same thing for my own family one day. I also used to imagine my name would be synonymous with home décor. Once I had my career where I wanted it, then I would worry about settling down. Just like James and Garrett. Now I’m starting from scratch.

“Ben’s a nice guy. He’s settled. Responsible. He’s a homeowner.”

“Mom,” I whine. “I don’t need your help with my love life. I can manage just fine on my own.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Just as well as James and Garrett and Paynt. You didn’t try to set them up, did you?”

“Actually, I did. But James was always in love with Myra. He just didn’t know it. And Garrett had to find his own way. Paynt—”

“Why can’t you leave me to find my own way too? Especially now. I’ve just moved back. I need to settle into my new apartment and my new job.”

“Your new job? You’re living here?” She gapes at me. “You moved home?”

“Yes.” I fold the tea towel and hang it over the cupboard door before picking up the pastries to put them in the pantry. “I quit Pascal Design. There was no future in it.”

“That’s great. Your dad and I have always hoped you’d move closer. We miss you so much.”

“Well, I’m in the same city now. Close by. I’ll visit more. If you don’t try to set me up every time I do.”

“Honey, I just want you to be happy. Not alone. Life is easier with someone to share it.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ben says from the doorway. “I just wanted to say thank you again for having us. But it’s time I get these kids home for their baths.”

“Sure. Anytime. You’re always welcome,” Mom gushes. She clearly misses having people to fuss over. “If you need anything, any help with the children, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” he says, staring over her head at me. “It was nice to meet you, Veronica.”

“Likewise.” I hug my arms around my waist, all of a sudden awfully subconscious about my clothing choices.

“You two seemed to hit it off,” my mother says as she and Ben leave the kitchen. “Maybe we can do this again.”

“Unbelievable.” Apparently she can’t help herself.

“Ben, huh?” Danny wanders into the kitchen and straight to the pantry, only to reappear a few seconds later with another pastry. He wiggles his bushy eyebrows. “What a man.”

“Yeah.” I cross my feet at the ankles and glance out the window where my mother is still talking to her new best friend. “Maybe my mother should date him.”

Danny chortles. “Don’t know that your dad would approve.”

“Probably not.” His humor is contagious. It lifts the weight off my shoulders. I don’t want to disappoint my mother. She just doesn’t understand why I don’t want to be like her. I want more. I want to be more. Why is that so much easier for her to accept when it comes to my brothers?

“I think she’s giving him your number.” Danny strides over to stand beside me as we watch Ben type something into his phone.

“Great. Just great.”

“You’re hot, Ronnie. He’s got two kids and the woman he loved is dead. He isn’t looking to date you. That’s your mother’s wishful thinking.”

Ugh. Maybe I should have worn pearls and a sundress. Pretended I was interested. Given him a version of me that might have made him think I was after something serious. Not that it really matters what he thinks of me. It just would have been easier if I could have scared him off. What really would have worked was explaining my job—he’d have scooped up his kids and departed in a hurry.

“She’s going to hound me to go out with him.” I blow out a breath. “I can’t screw my mother’s neighbor. Shit.”

“She’s on her way back,” he says. “Her eyes are glowing. Seriously. She’s that happy about the idea of you and Mr. All-American.”

“What am I going to do?”

He glances at me, his eyes brightening. “I’ve got this.”

“The last time you said that—”

“When are you going to tell your family that we’re together?” he asks, loudly enough that my mother can hear from outside the house.

My pulse stutters and begins to race. Oh shit. He can’t be serious. “Danny, she’ll hear you.”

“That’s the point,” he whispers before raising his voice again. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I don’t want to keep our relationship a secret. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean we should hide it.”

“Stop it.” I clap my hand over his mouth as the front door bangs. “You’re making things more awkward.”

Grasping my hand, he drags it down to his chest. “No, I’m getting your mother off your back for the indefinite future. Plus, I’m not a huge fan of jocks. Well, except for Garrett, of course.”

“Danny,” I plead with him, but he’s so close and his chest is so warm under my hand. His Adam’s apple bobs and that draws my attention upward, to his gaze on my lips, making them dry. I have to run the tip of my tongue over them because it feels like a small electrical current is running through them.

“Catch,” he whispers.

“Wha—” His hand sneaks up on my hip, holding me still as he drifts his lips over mine. They’re firm and supple all at the same time. Cheeky, too, the way he nips at my bottom lip, making me want to open to him. My hand on his chest turns into a fist, crushing the fabric of his shirt as he slips his tongue between my lips.

“You two are together?”

Christ, my mother is in the room. That’s my mother. Shit. I push him back and break off the kiss we barely began. “Danny, my mother.”

“Wonderful woman. I like her. Not as much as I like you.”

“No. My mother. She’s watching.”

“Oh, right.” He stumbles over the words while he shoves a hand through his hair in a way that makes it hard to tell if he’s still enacting this ridiculous plan or if that kiss was as real as it felt. “I guess we’re busted.”