Chapter One
When a woman used desperate and proposition in the same sentence, it was a good indication that he was potentially dealing with someone a little unhinged or he was about to get lucky. Either way, Leo Stone was intrigued.
Leo looked up from reading the phone message that Heather, their receptionist at Prestige Car Services, had thrust at him the moment he’d walked into the office. “Did she really say she was desperate that I’m the one who picked her up from the airport, and that she had a proposition for me? Or was that your creative interpretation of the conversation you had with”—he glanced back at the paper for the woman’s name—“Peyton Bishop?”
Heather laughed. “I swear that message was written word for word, and she even sounded a little . . .well—”
“Crazy?” Eric—his good friend and business partner—supplied as he stepped out of his nearby office and leaned against the doorframe, an amused smile quirking his lips as he added his two cents to the discussion. “Or maybe a little mentally unbalanced? Or psycho?”
Heather rolled her eyes at Eric’s exaggerated descriptions. “No, she sounded a little awkward and uncomfortable on the phone. Like she wasn’t happy about the fact that she was being so pushy, but it was very important to her that Leo was her driver.”
“Did you mention that I no longer pick up or drive clients around?” At one time, he and Eric were the only two drivers, but over the years, their company had grown exponentially and they now employed enough full- and part-time chauffeurs to cover their fleet of vehicles, which gave them more time to focus on building their corporate clientele base.
“Yes, I told her all that, but it didn’t matter,” Heather said, tucking her dark brown hair behind her left ear, which also flashed the new engagement ring her boyfriend had recently put on her finger. “She was very persistent.”
“And did you also tell her that it would be far cheaper for her to use Uber or Lyft for a ride from the airport instead of using our car service?” he asked, wanting to make sure this woman, Peyton, knew what she was getting herself into cost-wise. Their cars were high-end in order to cater to wealthy businessmen and customers who preferred a more luxurious ride, and they paid the price for that comfort and indulgence.
“Yes,” she said again, this time with exasperation for his excessive interrogating when she knew her job. “I gave her a quote of what it was going to cost. I’m telling you, she was adamant that Leo Stone be the one to pick her up, but if it’s something you really don’t want to do, then I can always get one of our other drivers to stand in for you and he can tell her that you weren’t available.”
Leo shook his head. “No, I’m free tonight, so I’ll do it.” To appease his curiosity about this determined woman more than anything.
“Stalker alert,” Eric said, coughing out the two words.
Leo smirked at his good friend since college, goading him right back. “Well, she clearly has great taste, since she asked for me over you.”
An abrupt gust of laughter spilled out of Eric as he clutched his stomach. “Okay, yeah, you might want to take a can of mace with you. You have no idea what a desperate woman is capable of, though I have to admit that I’m dying to know how she’s going to proposition you. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll finally get to end your six-month-long dry spell.”
In deference to their secretary, Leo resisted the urge to flip off his friend for his crass comment. Unlike Eric, Leo had standards and didn’t stick his dick just anywhere. “I’m sure it’s not a sexual proposition, so get your mind out of the fucking gutter and mind your own business, asshole.”
“Hey, this is my business,” he retorted with a grin.
“Whatever,” Leo said, turning back to Heather. “Do you have her itinerary?”
“Yep.” Heather produced a printout with the woman’s information on it. “She’s arriving at San Diego Airport from New York at 5:40 this evening, United flight 2837. I’ll text you the details so you have it on your phone and can easily access it. Oh, and I already printed up a placard for you with her name on it.”
She handed him the cardstock with the company’s logo on top and the name PEYTON BISHOP in bold letters below for him to hold up as he waited in the pickup area for her to exit the luggage terminal. He didn’t know a Peyton Bishop from New York, but she’d clearly heard of him. Maybe he’d been a referral from a few years back when he was still a driver for the company? It was the only thing that made sense.
“What car would you like to take so I can put it on reserve?” she asked, pulling up the roster of vehicles still available for the evening. “We have the Cadillac Escalade, the Lincoln Town Car, the Mercedes Benz, the limo, or the Audi.”
As much as he’d enjoy driving the sporty Audi, he had no idea how much luggage this woman had, and the trunk space in that car was minimal. “I’ll take the Escalade.”
“Done.” Her fingers flew over her keyboard as she input the required details into the company’s standard order form.
Eric crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head in amusement. “So, you’re really going to do this, huh?”
Leo shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He couldn’t remember the last time anything had piqued his interest more than this woman’s request—or any woman in general. If anything, he figured it would make for a fascinating evening.
* * *
Peyton really wasn’t in the habit of propositioning men, but she was genuinely desperate for Leo Stone’s help. Whether or not she’d be able to talk him into being her stand-in boyfriend for the next week while she was in town for her cousin’s wedding remained to be seen. There was no telling what he’d do once he discovered the lengths she’d gone to to convince her parents that Leo Stone was indeed the man she’d been dating for the past nine months.
As she followed the mass of people heading toward baggage claim, which took her closer to her fake boyfriend, who had no clue he’d been cast in the roll, the nerves swirling in her stomach increased. She really should have just told her parents that she’d broken up with Leo, but with her father’s recent quadruple bypass and Peyton’s mother telling her how relieved they were that she had someone taking care of her in the big, scary city of New York, Peyton hadn’t been able to bring herself to end the fictitious relationship she’d gone to such great lengths to create in the first place.
At a time when her father’s health was precarious and he was still recovering from his surgery, she hadn’t wanted to worry her parents that she was heartbroken over her “breakup” and alone again in the city. Oh, not to mention that she’d yet to tell them that she’d lost her job as a junior apparel designer because the company she’d worked for for the past two years had gone bankrupt. She was currently jobless and living off her dwindling savings because she refused to ask her parents for any additional money since she’d moved to Manhattan almost three years ago to prove that she could be independent and make it on her own. So far, she’d been successful, and she wasn’t about to cave and ask for their financial help. At least not yet.
No, for now, she was better off faking that she was crazy in love with her attentive boyfriend and gainfully employed, because she couldn’t deal with her overprotective parents smothering her with sympathy and insisting that she move back home, where she was close to them again. She loved her mother and father dearly, but she was an only child, and they’d always been helicopter parents, to the point that she’d felt stifled by their constant hovering, attention, and involvement in her life.
By the time she’d graduated from San Diego State University at the age of twenty-three, she’d been desperate to spread her wings and experience life on her own terms. Taking an internship with a new fashion house and living in New York without her parents knowing every little thing she did on a daily basis had been liberating. She wasn’t about to give up that freedom now or put herself in a position where her parents had an excuse to “lovingly” nag her to return home.
Which brought her back to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Irresistible, Leo Stone, and needing his temporary assistance. That was, if he didn’t write her off as a lunatic when he learned what she’d done. But heck, it wasn’t as if they were complete strangers . . . they had gone to San Diego State together and had been in the same chemistry class her junior year, though she doubted he remembered her by name after so many years. He’d been a senior at the time, and they’d been paired together as lab partners for the entire spring term. Three times a week, for three glorious months, she and Leo had met at the lab to work on the projects and assignments required to pass the course.
Her crush on him had been instantaneous, and just being with him for those few hours a week had made her giddy and breathless and filled with anticipation. He’d been friendly and funny and easy to be around. Confident and gorgeous but not conceited. Smart but never egotistical. And when Leo had smiled at her and that flirtatious dimple in his right cheek appeared, it took everything in her not to swoon at how overwhelmingly sexy he was.
He’d been one of those guys who was the total package—rare and difficult to find in the twenty-first century, and she ought to know, because she’d dated enough trolls and narcissist alpha-holes.
Unfortunately for Peyton, he’d had a steady girlfriend at the time, and even though there had been moments when she’d felt a spark of attraction between them while they worked side by side in the lab, loyal, devoted Leo had never crossed any lines that would have jeopardized his relationship with the southern girl he’d been seeing for two years. According to him, Amanda Rockwell was the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with, and his commitment to her had only deepened Peyton’s infatuation with him.
And at the end of their term, when they went their separate ways, she’d felt as though Leo was the one who got away . . . even though he’d never been hers to begin with.
But over the years, she’d followed him on Facebook and Instagram and learned after graduating he’d gotten engaged to Amanda, though according to his social media status, they’d broken up before getting married and he was still single. She’d followed how he and his good friend, Eric, had turned their small car service into a successful business, and based on their website, they were starting to cater to higher-end clientele.
She’d scrolled through his online photos, wondering how someone could get even hotter and sexier the older they got. She’d sighed over pictures of him shirtless on the beach with friends, and the gregarious smile that still did warm, tingly things to her body. There were other snapshots of him around town or standing next to one of the luxurious cars in his company’s fleet or random pictures with his brothers—who were as gorgeous as Leo.
Even after all this time, none of the men she’d dated in New York could match the attraction and desire she’d felt for Leo during their short three months together in chemistry. So, it hadn’t been a huge stretch, after one Friday night of listening to her mother once again lament over Peyton being alone in the city, that a week later she’d come up with an incredibly brilliant idea to convince her parents that she’d met the most wonderful, amazing, attentive man to put their fears to rest.
Thus Leo Stone began starring as her new boyfriend.
Admittedly, this brilliant plan had come to her when she and her roommate had gotten silly drunk after consuming too many homemade margaritas, and with the two of them intoxicated and feeling no pain, they’d run with the outlandish idea. To the point that they’d taken Leo’s pictures he’d posted online, and with Gabby’s job as a graphic designer, her friend had easily cut out the images of Leo and superimposed them into snapshots where he was standing next to Peyton throughout the city.
Even under the influence of alcohol, Gabby had some mad Photoshop skills. Where Peyton had taken a photo with a friend at a restaurant, with a few clicks of a mouse, she was now sitting next to Leo, grinning happily while drinking an apple martini. That day in Central Park when she’d taken a selfie of her and Gabby standing on the Gapstow Bridge? Click, click, click, and voila she was cheek-to-cheek with her new hottie.
Oh, my God, they’d laughed their drunken asses off as they’d created a whole album of photos with Peyton and Leo as a couple, and since she’d been smart enough to create a separate social media profile where her parents could feel as though they were keeping tabs on her, it had been incredibly easy to keep the fabricated relationship contained. Still high as a kite on tequila, she’d texted the first photo to her parents that night before posting on the private, just-for-her-parents Facebook account, where her friends from San Diego would never see the new relationship status announcement with Leo since the page was set to private.
Her mother and father had been over-the-moon thrilled that she’d met a nice boy, and the altered photos Peyton randomly posted worked like magic. Her parents were appeased and happy, and Peyton had been relieved that she was able to just do her thing in New York without any parental worries or pressure . . . as long as she kept up the farce.
Her plan had worked too well. After nine months of her dating Leo, her parents were eager to meet him and suggested—strongly—that he join her for a week’s vacation in San Diego when her cousin was getting married so that they could get to know him better, since he never seemed to be around when Peyton Skyped them. Hence, her current quandary.
Jesus, what a freakin’ mess, she thought as she stood next to the luggage carousel and waited for her bag to appear. She hoped to God that Leo still had a sense of humor, because being able to see the lighter side of the situation would definitely help her cause.
Her purple suitcase came into view, and she did her best to drag the heavy beast off the conveyor belt before it slipped through her grasp—not an easy feat when her bag weighed 49.5 pounds and she herself clocked in at a petite one hundred and sixteen pounds. With a giant heave of strength, she managed to retrieve the suitcase without crushing her toes in the process, and after locking in the handle, she secured her carry-on bag on top, then made her way to the pickup area.
Her jittery nerves returned with a vengeance when she caught sight of Leo in the distance. Her heart pounded so wildly in her chest she could feel it against her rib cage, and a flush of awareness suffused her entire body. She didn’t have to worry about faking it on her end, because clearly, her crush on Leo was still alive and well.
And dear God, his social media photos didn’t do him justice. In person, he looked more mature than he had in college and so damned hot it stole her breath. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white T-shirt and a pair of casual faded jeans that looked soft and worn in all the right places. Clearly, the message she’d left for him let him know she wasn’t his average client, therefore a business suit was unnecessary. Which kind of bummed her out, because she could only imagine how amazing he’d look in a tailored jacket fitted for those broad shoulders and a pair of slacks hugging those lean, muscular thighs.
When she’d first met him in chemistry, she’d marveled at what great hair he had, and still did. Seriously. It was so thick, inky black, and soft-looking, and there had been so many times she’d been tempted to accidently slide her fingers through those strands, but could never quite figure out an inconspicuous way to make that happen. Unsurprisingly, the urge was still there.
Holding up a sign with her name in bold type, Leo scanned the crowd in the terminal. She wasn’t about to assume he remembered who she was based on their one class together. Four years had passed, and though she still had a thing for him, she was undoubtedly nothing more than a distant blip of a memory for Leo. His girlfriend at the time had been tall and beautiful and sophisticated—whereas in college Peyton had been pegged as the short, average, cute girl that hot guys always seemed to overlook.
As the travelers in front of her dispersed in different directions, Leo’s gaze skimmed past her, then bounced back as she pulled her bags toward him. As she approached, a slight frown creased his dark brows as he stared at her face—as if she looked familiar and he was trying to place her. She was pretty sure she still looked the same, except for her hair, which had changed drastically since college. What was once long and straight and fell halfway down her back was now cut to her shoulders, and instead of being a slave to a hot iron, she’d learned to embrace her more natural waves for a casual style that was easy and effortless to maintain. She now had wispy bangs, and on a whim, she’d recently added blonde highlights to her mousy brown hair.
Despite the anxiety wringing her stomach into knots, she managed an amicable smile as she closed the distance between them, trying not to let those intense eyes of his wreak havoc with her equilibrium. They were an intriguing mix of brown and green with a touch of gold shot through the irises, and she knew depending on his mood, those colors shifted and changed. Sometimes turning light with amusement, or more of a brown hue when he’d been contemplating a chemistry equation. But there had been one time in particular that they’d darkened for the briefest moment with lust before he’d quickly regained his composure . . .
When she finally reached him, he lowered the sign he was holding as recognition finally dawned across his features.
“Holy shit. Peyton Bishop,” he said in shock, clearly not remembering her name until he’d recognized her face and put all the pieces together in his mind. “Chemistry, right?”
He was a good eight inches taller than her five-foot-six frame, and she had to tip her head back slightly to meet his gaze. “You remember?” she asked, surprised and a little pleased by that revelation.
His grin was slow and mischievous, giving her a glimpse of his sexy dimple through the light layer of scruff along his jaw. “It’s kind of hard to forget the girl who literally knocked me on my ass in the middle of the campus, then proceeded to straddle me in a short little skirt while feeling me up as everyone walking by gaped at us because it looked like you were molesting me.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut as heat seared her cheeks. Seriously? Out of all their time together, that one isolated, humiliating, awkward incident was what he chose to bring up and focus on? “For the record, I did not feel you up.” At least not deliberately.
He chuckled, the warm, deep sound affecting her body way too intimately, as did the way his eyes made a much slower, more deliberate perusal of her figure. She was dressed in an oversized pale pink sweatshirt that reached her thighs and black leggings, which she’d worn for comfort since it was such a long flight, but her nipples were not immune to that visual caress and responded accordingly and without her permission . . . and yes, he noticed.
“You can’t deny that your hands were rubbing all over the fly of my jeans,” he said, his voice amused as he shared that recollection.
Her face was on fire. “I was making sure that you were okay!”
In her defense, she’d been a tad bit eager after hearing him call her name. She’d been so excited that he’d sought her out after class that she’d whirled around so quickly that her book bag had smacked him in the groin—because she was less than graceful and a little clumsy and that’s just how things seemed to work out for her. When he’d bent over in shock and agony while cupping his family jewels, she’d leapt forward to stabilize him . . . but instead she’d tripped them both up to the point that they’d tumbled to the ground, with her sprawled on top of him.
And yes, once she’d straddled his thighs, her hands had pressed and gently prodded against his crotch in a panic—she swore it had been an automatic and instinctive response, though if she’d been thinking logically, she would have realized it was highly unlikely she could have broken his dick…until he’d groaned—from pain or pleasure, she wasn’t quite sure which—and grabbed her wrists and yanked her hands away. That’s when mortification had set in, and when she’d looked up into his eyes and seen how feverish and dark they were, not with pain but with heated awareness, her entire body went soft and lax on top of him.
He’d recovered from that moment much quicker than she had and promptly put an end to their compromising position, but the incident had left her shaken, much too aroused, and unable to forget that brief connection between them.
“I’m just messing with you, Pixie,” he said lightly, taking pity on her obvious embarrassment, even after all these years. “You’re still just as adorable as you were back in college.”
He’d given her the nickname Pixie during one of their lab assignments, mostly to tease her for being much smaller than him, and she was surprised he remembered that, too. “I’d like to think I’ve grown and matured from cute and adorable over the past few years.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being cute and adorable,” he said, his voice warm and sincere as he reached out to gently tug on a wavy strand of hair. “Though I have to say I love the new haircut and style. It’s kind of sexy.”
Her stomach tumbled with pleasure at his compliment and the fact that he was touching her, if only her hair. “Kind of sexy” was at least an improvement from adorable. “Thank you.”
He tipped his head to the side, regarding her more curiously now. “So, is there a reason you called my company and insisted on having me, specifically, pick you up from the airport?”
“Yes, there’s definitely a reason.” She exhaled a deep breath, shifting on her sneakered feet as travelers continued to weave around them. “And it’s kind of a long and complicated explanation and requires that you not only have a really good sense of humor, which you seem to still have, but hopefully an open mind about helping out an old friend.”
“Okay.” Intrigue infused his deep, masculine voice. “You have my attention.”
His interest was better than an outright rejection, which she was grateful for, but standing in the middle of the airport wasn’t where she wanted to have this conversation. “So, are you free for the next few hours to go somewhere for dinner and to talk?”
“Sure. I’m open for the rest of the night,” he told her as he took the handle of her bags for her. “Where would you like to go?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Preferably somewhere that serves strong drinks, because I’m going to need one before I proposition you.”