“I have thick skin, I don’t need you to sugarcoat the truth.”
At first, he’d been afraid she had no personality. She was dressed professionally, in a black pencil skirt and a light gray sweater which hugged her curvaceous figure. Her brown hair hit her dainty chin in soft waves, a typical conservative bob. But then he’d noticed her shoes. Ballet flats, sure, but painted with bright red flowers. A splash of color and whimsy in an otherwise corporate outfit. There was more to this woman than a first glance would ever reveal. And he’d been proven right.
“Fine, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Ryan swished his hand through the air, indicating she should continue. He’d already made up his mind to ask for another date. She was pleasant to look at, had a brain in her pretty head, and would make his parents happy. With any luck, she’d like him for himself and not just his connections.
She might make you happy, too, if you let her.
“You’re not what you seem.” Her words were crisp, analytical, as he’d expect from an accountant. “You want everyone to believe you’re ordinary, like them, but you’re not. Maybe you’ve even bought into the fantasy, but you can’t hide the arrogance coming from money gives. So, I don’t believe you do anything for a living. At least, nothing that contributes to society the way you could.”
His lips thinned, and his fingers drummed on the table. She was so close, and the last bit hurt. Sure, slinging cocktails, pouring beer, and helping with inventory wouldn’t change the world, but it was honest work. It didn’t matter it was far from what he could be achieving, as his parents always pointed out. He planned on turning those experiences into something more, something new, something his. Before he could respond, defend his life choices—why he felt the need would forever remain a mystery, though—she apologized.
“Sorry. I said I’d be honest, but I know sometimes I go too far.” She fiddled with her clutch and refused to make eye contact. “So why don’t we say goodbye and put a mark in the bad dates column?”
But it hadn’t been a bad date. Yeah, forgetting her name hadn’t been his finest moment. He’d only remembered he had a date this evening twenty minutes before he was supposed to meet her. His phone was dead, and he had no time to charge it. All he could remember was it began with an L sound. And his brain had gone totally blank when faced with those cute little freckles dotting her nose under her intense gaze. He could lose himself there for hours, days, years, if she let him. No, not a bad date at all.
“I said I wanted the truth, and you gave it. But you need to give me a chance to respond and don’t assume I’m angry with the truth. I’ll never be angry with the truth from you.”
Hurt, sure. He liked her, and her words stung. But they’d known each other for less than thirty minutes. Surely he could change her mind. He still had the DeMarco charm, after all.
A blush spread over her cheeks, setting the sparse freckles into stark relief. She fiddled with her clutch some more.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
He slid his fingers around the hand grasping the clutch and squeezed gently. “We’re good, Elissa. Just getting to know each other. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
“I’d like to. You’re the ideal woman for me to date. Stable job, attractive but not so beautiful you’d be a distraction, polite to a fault, well-educated, you dress like the accountant you are, and don’t have any unfortunate piercings or visible tattoos. The exact opposite of every woman I’ve dated the last decade. My parents will be thrilled I bought you a drink.”
Her luscious pink lips thinned. She wasn’t taking this as intended. Shit.
“I mean, I know I’m not my brother, but I think we get along well enough to…”
“Enough to what, Ryan?” A shadow crossed her face and she pulled her hand out of his light grip. “I-I should go.”
“No, wait a second.”
He needed her to stay, needed her to say yes to another date. He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much in a while, and the thought of her leaving, let alone leaving while pissed off at him, made him desperate.
A wild idea popped into his head. Absolutely wild. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
She pushed her chair away from the table. Time was up. His ADHD bypassed his better angels, and the words tore through his filters like rampaging javelinas.
“What I’m saying is you’ll do just fine. I’ll take you out a few times, take you to a family function or two, and my mother will stop hounding me to date in my league. You’ll have a good time, network with my family—they’ll adore you, by the way—and their extensive business contacts, then we can call it quits.” This had to work. Few people would turn down easy access to the DeMarco family. The plan would give her a chance to appreciate him for who he was, and he could work with that. “They’ll give me hell for dumping you, keeping all those juicy connections ripe for the picking. You’ll be set for several years, and I’ll show them I’m trying. Sounds like a win-win to me. You in?”
Elissa’s face changed from pink to red, and those blue eyes of hers narrowed. Her mouth opened and shut once or twice before she got any words out.
“Am I…in? Am I in? In for what? Some scam on your family? A good time that’s going exactly nowhere? In for being used for your nefarious purposes?”
“Nefarious purposes?” He ran his hand through his hair and sipped on his beer. It was too late to take the words back. He had to count on the legendary DeMarco charm to persuade her to go along. One date with this woman only left him hungry for more. “I’m not trying to do anything other than get my family to mind their own business about my love life. But yeah, seems about right. So, what do you think?”
The knuckles on the hand wrapped around her wine glass faded to white, and for a moment, he was afraid the glass would shatter. She set it down on the table and slowly unwound her fingers, placing her hands on the edge of the table.
“What do I think?” Her voice went husky instead of high. “You want to buy my presence with the promise of connections?”
“No, well, maybe, I guess.” Yeah, real smooth. This was not going well. In fact, he could smell the faint odor of dumpster fire brewing. “It sounds like we could both use a break from our mothers’ matchmaking. This is about the pleasure of your company at a few events. Sex would be entirely optional.”
