“Oh. Wow. That’s so nice. First you come to my rescue. Then you want to take me out. You must be a saint.”
I reach behind me, squeezing my neck. The clock is ticking, and I need to figure out how to put this. “I’m no saint. You’re beautiful. Any guy in their right mind would want to ask you out. Wait… are you?” I grimace.
“Am I what?”
“How old are you?”
She covers her mouth with her hand, trying and failing to trap her laughter. “Why? Thought you might be robbing the cradle?”
Heat creeps up my neck at the very possibility. But I suppose she wouldn’t be having a fit over it if she was jail bait. “Don’t take this as an insult. You’re gorgeous, but clearly a little younger than I am.”
“Oh, clearly,” she mocks. “So the offer’s off the table?”
“No, no. I’d still like to take you to dinner. But…”
“But, what?” She tilts her head in confusion, and I realize there’s no dancing around this. We’ve got to get a move on if there’s any chance of making it to the restaurant on time.
“I meant now.”
“Um, what?”
“I was on the way to a dinner meeting when I saw you.” Nearly tripping over my tongue from my abrupt pause, I regroup before oversharing about my potential business venture.
Slow your roll, Ben.
You’ve already endured one lying, cheating shrew whose main attraction was your bank account. Not to mention the coeds who set their sights on you back in England once it was clear you were related to the Sly family. It’s time you were a little more discerning with women, numb nuts. And by the looks of this girl, stunning or not,she’s well overdue for a windfall. “I have an interview with someone about a… construction job. He’s very particular about whom he brings on. You’d be doing me a huge favor if you came along.”
She wrinkles her nose in confusion. It’s fucking adorable. “You want me to come to a job interview?”
Okay. That does sound odd. “It’s not an official interview. Just a meet and greet. His way of feeling me out. My likability meter would rise tenfold if you were there.”
She glances down in exasperation at her attire. Mainly that white tank with the paw print pasties. “Really?” She snickers.
Despite my recent accomplishment of keeping my gaze above her neck, I’m greeted with a sardonic expression when she finds me checking out her tits again. “Sorry.”
The beauty balls her hands on her hips in disgust. “I’m a mess. And even if a tow truck hadn’t just pulled off with my truck, there wasn’t anything appropriate in there to change into. Or I’d be wearing it already.” She emphasizesI’d be wearing it alreadywith an eye roll.
I glance down at my watch. The second-hand sounds as if it’s come to life, mocking me. “Listen, gorgeous, if you agree to come with me, I’ll get you a change of clothes and hopefully a nice dinner as my way of saying thank you for coming along.”
“Hopefully?”
“Well, I’ve never eaten there before. But if the food’s crap, I’ll pick up takeout from wherever you like on the way to drop you at home.” I give her my best puppy dog eyes and pray she’ll have mercy. If I’m late to this dinner with this woman on my arm, I have no doubt Milton will let it slide.
Suddenly it hits me. That overpriced clothing store Chanel liked to shop at is on the way to Lake Anna. They’re bound to have everything we need. Plus, I’ve spent enough money there in the past, I’m sure they’d let me clean up and change while I’m there.
Peering down at this petite princess, I try to imagine her all dolled up for dinner and draw a complete blank. Hell, it’s hard to think beyond a white tank with paw print pasties when the woman is this naturally lovely.
After having to put up with that arrogant socialite wanna-be, Chanel, those saleswomen will probably fall all over themselves to dress up this sweet girl. Funny how my ex managed to hide that side of her split personality when we were dating on different continents. But honestly, that’s on me. Not falling down that rabbit hole again. Particularly with one so young and down on her luck.
Focus on your career, Ben. Not your lonely dick.
Considering this plan has given me new hope there’s still a chance at salvaging this meeting with Milton. Hell, I’ve got a lot riding on this. Steepling my hands in front of me, I press on, blinking down at her. “Please? What do you say?”
9
GRACE
Standingbefore the floor-length mirror in this swanky boutique dressing room, I can’t help comparing this moment to Julia Roberts inPretty Woman. My hands ghost down the shimmering dark platinum cocktail dress. You’d think it had been hand sewn specifically for me by the way it clings to my body in all the right places.
