Mister Romance Page 8

  He nods. “Yeah. I came for eight weeks to spend some time with Pat, but now that I’m here, I’m finding fewer and fewer reasons to go home.”

  There’s that look again. The one that makes me want to forget about all of my reasons for staying single.

  As a welcome distraction, a waitress arrives with a G and T for me and some sort of exotic beer for Kieran. We lift our glasses and clink before both drinking deeply. I’m not sure if he’s feeling as out-of-control as I am, but alcohol seems to be a comfort to us both right now. I signal our waitress to bring the same again before taking another giant sip.

  After draining a good portion of our drinks, we lapse into an awkward silence and assess each other. I squirm a little when Kieran makes no attempt to hide his approval of my appearance.

  “Have I mentioned that you look beautiful tonight?”

  Flutters again. Many freaking flutters. “Ah ... yes, actually. And thanks. You also look beaut ... uh ... nice.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Well, I hope so. I shaved and washed my hair for this date. For a guy, that’s the equivalent of a full day at the salon.”

  I laugh and have another sip of alcohol. “I don’t mean to say you just look nice. I was going to say you looked beautiful too, but it felt weird to say that to a man, so I made an emergency left-turn into nice.”

  He cocks his head. “You think I look ... beautiful?”

  “Yes, but in a manly way. Beautifully handsome, okay? I guess I should have just said handsome, but I didn’t, and oh well ... too late now. Haha.”

  Jesus. Could I be any more awkward?

  The way his mouth twitches, it’s clear he’s stifling laughter.

  “I appreciate the effort to not openly mock me,” I say.

  “It’s a struggle. You seem uncomfortable giving compliments. Is that not something you usually do?”

  “No. Remember that whole conversation about me not dating? This entire situation is something I don’t usually do.”

  His smile fades. “But you’ve dated before, right? This isn’t a new experience for you?”

  I swirl the ice cubes around in my glass. “Technically, I’ve dated. But nothing as romantic as this. It’s not really my thing.”

  “You don’t like romance? I thought most girls enjoyed that stuff.”

  “I’m not most girls.”

  He takes a sip of beer and licks his lips. “No, you’re really not.” His eyes sparkle in the low light, and even though I feel like I should look away, I don’t. Neither does he. Things are getting tense in the most arousing way possible when my phone buzzes in my purse. We both look at it.

  “Do you need to get that?” he asks.

  I shake my head and pull my purse into my lap. “Nope. It’s probably just Asha checking up on us. She can sweat it out until I get home.”

  He nods his approval.

  When our waitress appears table-side to tell us the specials, I’m grateful for the interruption. My face needs to cool down, and having the menu to shield me from Kieran and his out-of-control hotness helps a little.

  After we’ve both ordered our meals and received fresh drinks, Kieran focuses on me again. “So, tell me, why the ban on dating? Was it a bad experience that turned you off?”

  I shrug. “I realized at a young age that I wasn’t like other girls who obsessed over romantic fairy tales. I never bought the pipe dream society was selling.”

  “Which was ...?”

  I stir my drink and smile. “Are you sure you want to get into this? Maybe we should stick to safe subjects like religion, or politics, or our favorite serial killers. Once I jump on this soapbox, you might regret asking the question. Or being here. Or meeting me.”

  “Impossible. It’s something you’re obviously passionate about. Hit me.”

  “Okay.” I take a breath. “I believe people have been brainwashed into thinking they deserve perfection. As a woman, it’s been drilled into me since I was little that I should be chasing a happy ever after featuring a prince of a husband who’ll help me make two genius children, and we’ll be so deliriously happy, all our friends and family will gag.”

  He nods. “Sounds familiar. My ma often asks me when I’m going to settle down. I think that’s close to what she has in mind whenever she brings it up.”

  “Exactly. That’s the dream we’ve all been sold in film, and TV shows, and goddamn romance novels. The shiny, happy ending in which we ride unicorns and always orgasm and have that one guy who just gets us, and services us sexually like he was born to do it.”

  He leans back in his chair, an amused smirk on his face. “You don’t think it can happen?”

  “Not that it can’t, but it’s incredibly unlikely. Present company excepted, most men are assholes.”

  Kieran laughs. “Wow. I’m glad I’m given a free pass, but still. A bit of a generalization, don’t you think?”

  I look down as my purse vibrates. God, Ash, give it up.

  I ignore the phone and sip my drink. “I’m sure there are amazing men in the world. I’ve just never gone out with any of them. In fact, in a city of forty-million people, my unique selling point is that I’m able home in on a douchebag within a five-mile radius.”

  Kieran laughs and tips his beer at me before taking a sip. “Wow. That’s impressive. If you could just find a way to turn that into a quantifiable skill, you’d be set for life.”

  I smile, and look in fascination at his fingers gripping his glass. “Right? Because if anyone needs a walking asshole-detector, I’m their girl.”

  We smile at each other, and it quickly turns into another heated moment. I blink as try to ignore the need to touch him. If this is how he makes me feel with only eye contact, God help me if he ever puts his hands or mouth on me.

  Without permission, I fantasize about him walking over to my side of the table, sinking to his knees in front of me, and pushing up my dress as he spreads my thighs. Across the table, I don’t know if he can tell what I’m thinking, but his expression changes as he stares at me, and the tension between us increases even more.

  I’m just getting to the part of my fantasy where he’s pressing his mouth against me, when the spell is broken by my phone buzzing again.

  Jesus Christ, I’m going to murder my sister. What’s the damn emergency?

  I put down my drink and grab my purse to dampen the sound. Having it vibrating in my lap while I’m trying to act indifferent to the hunk of a man opposite me is not a great idea, but it’s less distracting when it’s muffled by my thighs.

  “So,” Kieran says, before clearing his throat. “Taking into account your douche-detecting skills, how do you explain being attracted to me? Am I an asshole, too?”

  I study him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know. Do you have anything you want to tell me? Any deep, dark secrets? Felony convictions? Drug addictions? Jaywalking charges?”

  He shakes his head. “I like to keep my owning a few Bieber albums on the down-low during a first date, but that’s about it.”

  “Oh, for sure. That’s more of a fourth or even fifth date confession.”

  “Exactly.”

  When the phone starts again, my frustration fades into worry. If Asha is calling this much, there must be something wrong.

  I quickly unclip my purse and try to be subtle as I peek at the screen.

  Oh, crap! I have three missed calls from Max. It’s just my luck that he’d call when I wasn’t available.

  I look over at Kieran and smile. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

  “Of course.”

  As I stand, he stands, and I wonder how a modern guy even knows to do that. When I glance over my shoulder as I head down the hallway, he’s still watching me. It makes me smile.

  Ugh. I’m such a girl right now. I like him so much, there’s no doubt in my mind there’s something wrong with him.

  As soon as I’m in the safety of a stall, I pull out my phone and jab Max’s number. I hope I have
n’t missed my opportunity to lock down an interview time.

  “Miss Tate. I was beginning to think you were avoiding my calls.”

  “Not at all. I was just ... busy. Sorry.”

  “Do you have a moment to talk about my conditions for agreeing to your interview?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Just to be clear, if you want full disclosure from me, these terms are non-negotiable.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Earlier, you said you thought I was an asshole who’s conning my clients out of money, but you swore that if you’re proven wrong, you’ll change your narrative.”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “Then I’m going to need you to have more of a stake in the truth. If I prove that what I’m doing is helping and not hindering these ladies, you have to promise you’ll drop this story and forget you ever heard of me.”

  That stops me dead in my tracks. “What?” Dropping this story isn’t an option. How does he not know that?

  “That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”

  Shit. I need to find a workaround. “Okay, assuming I’m open to this, how do you plan on proving me wrong?”

  “Easy. You become one of my clients. If you agree to go on three dates with me with an open mind, I’ll offer you as much interview time as you like.”

  Laughter bubbles out of me. “Oh, wow ... I don’t think that’s a good idea –”

  “Miss Tate, you claim you’re able to be impartial. This is how you prove it. Now, from what I know of you, I’m the one who’s likely to lose on this deal. You’ve made your disdain for me and my clients clear, not to mention your contempt for romance in general, and you seem pig-headed enough to stick to your guns no matter what evidence I offer to the contrary. So, what do you have to lose? If you remain unconvinced of my good intentions, you get to print your story as you see fit, names included.”

  “Seriously? You agree to give me your client list?”

  “Yes. If you expose me, there’s no way I can continue servicing clients anyway. I’ll be ruined. I’ll leave it up to your conscience as to how much detail you reveal in your article and hope you’re kind enough not to destroy innocent lives.”

  “Well, the whole innocent issue remains to be seen.” God, Derek is going to love this. The entire pie, handed to me on a silver platter, and all I have to do is pretend to date him. Easy. There’s no way he’ll be able to prove he’s some altruistic angel, and if he thinks his tacky playacting will have me swooning and falling over myself, he clearly doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.

  “Okay, Max. You have a deal. I agree to your conditions, and in return you’ll give me full disclosure, yes?”

  “Within reason. Every answer I give will be truthful, but there may be questions I refrain from answering.”

  “Sounds doable. Would you like me to draw up a legal document?”

  “That depends. Can I trust you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “But keep in mind if I was going to betray you, I’d say the same thing.”

  He pauses. “That’s true. I guess I’ll have trust my gut and take you at your word.” I silently punch the air. “Goodbye for now, Miss Tate.”

  I sit up straight. “Wait! When can we talk?”

  “I’ll make contact soon. Answer your phone next time.”

  The line goes dead, and I slump back against the wall in relief. I got him! I actually got him.

  The elation is equal to having secured a sit-down with the mythical Sasquatch.

  I shoot off a quick text to Derek explaining that I’ve locked in the interview then head out to wash my hands and check my face. I’ve been in here for so long Kieran must think I have some sort of bowel impaction. Great. Just what every girl wants her hot Irish date to think.

  I sway a little as I fix my hair. I shouldn’t have slammed back those drinks so fast, especially on an empty stomach. Of course, the stupid heels don’t help.

  When I pull open the door and attempt to strut down the hallway, I squeal when I run straight into Kieran.

  “Shit!”

  After smashing into his chest, my ankles buckle, and I’m on my way to a spectacular fall when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against him.

  As he pulls me up and braces against the wall, we both freeze. Adrenaline blasts through me, partly from the collision, but mostly because we’re pressed together in ways that make the epic sexual tension I felt across the table seem weak and pale in comparison.

  He looks down at me, and his arms are so tight I can barely breathe. “When you didn’t come back, I got worried you may be sick, so I came to see if you were okay.” He searches my face, mouth soft and eyes dark. “Are you? Okay?”

  “Yes ... fine.” My heart is thrumming in my chest, and I can see the pulse in his neck is racing just as fast. “Sorry. I seem to keep throwing myself at the floor whenever you’re around. I did warn you that my clumsiness was extra sexy in heels.” My voice is breathy, and he’s looking at me like he has no intention of letting me go.

  “You did,” he whispers as he gazes down at me. “But if holding you like this is the result, then please throw yourself at the floor at every opportunity.”

  For a moment, I feel like laughing, because there’s no way in the world Max will be able to even come close to Kieran’s levels of hotness. His heat, and smell, and rumbling whispers make me do something I never thought I would. I swoon. I wasn’t sure I even knew the meaning of the word until now, but I’m certain that what I’m doing right now is definitely swooning.

  “Your voice is amazing,” I say. “So is your accent.”

  “Thank you. Your lips are incredible.”

  “Would you do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Say ‘top of the mornin’ for me.”

  He chuckles, low and rumbly in his chest. “You know that Irish people don’t say that anymore, right?”

  “I don’t care. Say it.” I press against him and smile when he clenches his jaw in response.

  “Top ‘o the mornin’ to ye, Eden.”

  I close my eyes and moan. “God. So sexy.”

  Before thinking too much about it, I put my hand on his chest and feel the hard planes of his muscles beneath his shirt.

  “You know,” I say. “We could forget about dinner and go back to my apartment. My sister is working late. We’d have the place to ourselves.”

  He drops his head back. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  He brushes some hair away from my face. “Because I told you last night I’m trying to date you, not get into your pants.”

  “Can’t you do both?”

  “Not unless I break several personal and professional rules.”

  I lean into him. “Break them. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Unexpectedly, he sets me back on my feet and puts distance between us. “Eden, we can’t.”

  “We can. Honestly, I’m really good at it.”

  When I go to touch him again, he grabs my hands and spins me around so my back is against the wall. “Miss Tate, please stop. Perhaps now is the appropriate time to explain the dos and don’ts of our upcoming interactions.”

  For a full five seconds, I blink in confusion. Kieran’s sexy accent has suddenly vanished, and his voice is now deeper and more resonant, if that’s goddamn possible. “Wait, what?”

  He lets me go then runs his fingers through his hair to push it back into place. “I’m sorry for the deception, but I had to get to know you, so I could be prepared for what I’d be dealing with.” He straightens his tie. “We have a lot to talk about. Shall we go back to the table? And please, call me Max.”

  SEVEN

  Maximum Max

  There have been few times in my life I’ve been angrier than I am now.

  The artist formerly known as Kieran sits across from me, looking the same as he did five minutes ago, but sounding and acting completely
different. I can’t believe he duped me so completely.

  Pig.

  “So,” I say. “I guess my asshole detection ability is still running at a hundred-percent accuracy, then. Good to know.”

  He sips his beer and smiles. “Why so angry, Miss Tate? Because I lied to you? Or because you enjoyed it so much?”

  “For the record, I don’t enjoy being lied to. No woman does.”

  “No, but you enjoyed Kieran. A lot. In fact, if I didn’t have strict rules about physical interactions on dates, I have no doubt you would have enjoyed him all night long. Am I right?”

  He knows damn well he’s right. Even though we haven’t eaten yet, Kieran was most definitely on my menu for dessert. Now, facing the serene asshole opposite me, I have no idea what I was thinking.

  “I’m glad you’re amused by this,” I say. “Perhaps I was wrong. It’s not money that motivates you after all. It’s your pathological need to manipulate people and laugh at their reactions.” I white-knuckle my glass. “So, Kieran was just a ploy to make me feel like an idiot?”

  “Not at all. He was a way of getting to know you without your guard being up. I needed to be convinced I could trust you.”

  “So, you betrayed my trust to prove I was trustworthy. Wow. Your reasoning is astounding. How long had you planned ‘running into me’ at the gym?”

  “Technically, you ran into me. But to answer your question, I’d been tailing you since I received your questionnaire.”

  “Tailing? You mean stalking.”

  “You tell me, Miss Tate. You were the one perched outside my P.O. Box with the telephoto lens. Is it only acceptable when you’re the predator and not the prey?”

  God, I need another drink. I down what’s left in my glass and glare at Max. He looks as cool as a cucumber. Of course he does. He’s not the one who just made a complete fool of himself.

  “So, big Irish Pat the pool player,” I say. “Not your best friend, I take it.”

  “He’s a friend, and an actor. I have a stable of people I use from time to time.”

  “What about the phone calls you made to me during dinner? Did you have a person for that as well?”