“Thank you,” the girl whispered, eyes dazed and full of hero worship, and Jo thought she was going to kneel at his feet.
As the server floated away, he turned to Jo expectantly. “Do we have a deal, then?”
Jo closed her eyes. She couldn’t wrap her head around his generosity, and that he seemed totally unaware that he’d just made the day of a girl who probably had to work for everything she had, and still, it wasn’t enough. A girl like Jo.
To him, it was just a tip. To that girl, it could mean the difference between having heat for the rest of the week or going hungry. But then he’d just agreed to drop ten thousand dollars for the convenience of a no-strings, fake relationship that would free him from a mother who just wanted him to be happy.
Everything in her wanted to tell him to take his money and shove it up his ass. The words were on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she thought of being homeless or, worse, having to move home and admit she couldn’t make it on her own. Desperation was a real bitch.
She opened her eyes to meet his. Was that worry in those devilishly dark orbs? “Yes, we have a deal.”
“Great.” He leaned forward. “Should we seal it with a kiss?”
“That would be breaking the rules.” But she couldn’t stop her gaze from slipping to sinfully full lips. Her own parted, and her tongue slipped out to wet them.
Chuckling, he rose and towered over her. Beneath her lashes, she cataloged every nuance of his tall, slender physique as he shrugged into his suit jacket. It hugged broad shoulders and emphasized slender hips. From there down, he was all long legs in matching pants that tapered to black Italian leather shoes. A long black overcoat she hadn’t noticed went next that only added another layer of GQ sex appeal.
She dabbed at her mouth to make sure she hadn’t joined the ranks of women who drooled over all that was Avery Preston. For all his faults, he was still as beautiful as she remembered.
“Text me your address,” he said as he wrapped a cashmere scarf around his neck. It wouldn’t do much to keep him warm, but fashion trumped comfort in his world. Or so it seemed. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
Jo shook her head. “I’ll drive myself.”
“I’ve agreed to all your demands. You could at least give me this.” He focused on his phone and tapped a few strokes, then looked at her. “It can’t look like a first date.”
“Fine, but don’t blame me when you get carjacked.”
He laughed but she wasn’t joking. He checked his watch again and pulled a pair of gloves from his coat pocket. “Gotta run. See ya tomorrow night.”
“Don’t forget to text me a list of dates and times,” she said as he turned to go.
So I can schedule my non-existent life around your every whim.
“Yep.” And then he was gone.
The noisy clatter of plates and brewing coffee rushed back in as Jo slumped deeper against the back of the booth and reached for an onion ring. It was cold. The burger, too. She looked at his plate. For all the whining he’d done about needing a to-go box, he hadn’t bothered.
Guess he’s never gone hungry.
Motioning to the server, she realized she still held Avery’s credit card. Just the sight of it made her nervous. She was going to lose the damn thing before she made it out of the diner.
As soon as she caught the girl’s attention, she pointed to the burger and mouthed, “Need a box,” then traded the card for her phone in her coat pocket so she could call Brooke.
Before she could get her phone open, it vibrated in her hand. Another text from her dad.
Just get the mind fuck over with.
Walt: Lydia needs a head count asap.
And we can’t keep Lidia waiting, can we?
Walt: Are you bringing a guest?
Brooke would be my plus one, but I wouldn’t subject her to more of our dysfunctional shit.
Walt: Since you don’t have a boyfriend, she’s putting Chase at our table.
I’d rather stand in the corner.
