Page 38 of He Has Charm

“It’s a—” Harper starts, but I cut her off. She would go on speaking for me all night in an effort to maintain control if I let her. But I’m not that guy. I’ll go along with her being my so-called handler—up to a point.

“You would be right. It’s a Porsche 911 Turbo S convertible. My splurge when I signed my last contract for the big money.” Chelsea laughs.

“Bingo. I get your brand loud and clear. Playboy at large.”

“We’re working on rebranding,” Harper says.

O’Rourke snickers. “I know something about that. Hope you’re ready for the long haul.”

“We’re ready,” Harper says like we’re a team, and I’m wondering if maybe I should sell my car.

As if she’s read my mind, she whispers to me, “Would you consider selling your car?” I try holding back my grin because she’s so damn cute and predictable the way she’s looking after me and looking after her own sweet buns while she’s at it.

“Only for you,” I lean in and whisper back under the cover of the radio.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious,” she whispers. I glance in the rearview to see that O’Rourke is paying attention to the road and Chelsea is saying something to him.

“I’m super serious,” I say. “If you think it’ll help, I’ll do it. You’re the expert.”

She narrows her eyes and looks at me like I’m a puzzle, which is better than her previous horrified look so that’s something. Maybe I’ll rate a genuine smile like I’m a guy she might be interested in by the end of the night.

Although what I would do with that, I don’t know because that’s dangerous territory. Yet, I can’t stop wanting it. And wanting her respect even more. Unfortunately, I get the idea her interest and her respect may be mutually exclusive.

Chelsea turns to us from the front seat and Harper jerks away from me as if she’s a guilty teenager getting caught by Mom.

Thirteen

Harper

“Change of plans,” she says. “To make you feel at home, Maddox, I thought it would be nice to go to a New Orleans-inspired restaurant, my new favorite place, Buttermilk & Bourbon. I’m sure you’ll love it. They have Southern fried chicken to die for and biscuits…” Chelsea gets a dreamy look. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

“Sounds perfect. But honestly, I’ll eat anything after a game I’m so hungry,” Maddox says. He winks at me with that suggestive glint that makes me imagine him ravenous and satisfying his appetite with his mouth between my—no, stop it. Chelsea snorts and O’Rourke agrees wholeheartedly with Maddox about being starved.

The restaurant is on Comm Ave in Boston which is busy even this late because it’s Saturday night and O’Rourke pulls up front and center for valet parking. The evening air is cold and my breath clouds up as I dash from the car toward the stylish restaurant. Managing not to jerk away when Maddox puts a hand on my back to escort me inside, mimicking the O’Rourkes as if we’re a couple, I tense and hope no one recognizes us. When the host greets Ryan and Chelsea as if he knows them. I interrupt and ask the host if they have a private room.

“Nothing available tonight, I’m afraid.”

“How about a table in the back?” I ask, ignoring the O’Rourke’s questioning looks.

“The only table we have for the next hour is the O’Rourke’s preferred table, the one we reserve for them after games.” I nod and gage whether I can get away with making two hungry hockey players wait for dinner. They don’t look enthusiastic. The host adds, “You can wait in the bar—”

“No, that’s alright.” The bar would be the worst place to go. I’d suggest another restaurant but I’m afraid we’d have the same trouble with crowds anywhere we go in Boston tonight. “We’ll take the table you have ready now.” I glance at the others and Chelsea gives me a look of understanding, O’Rourke looks relieved and Maddox wears his signature smirk.

We’re seated in the plush red velvet banquette table for six as soon as Rafe and Zoey arrive. It’s a gorgeous and comfortable table so everyone is thrilled with it. The only problem is that it’s front and center in the main dining room right in front of a large bay window with a view of the street and everyone who enters the place walks by us.

“I love this view of the city lit up at night,” Zoey says. “Don’t you?” She turns to me and I barely nod.

“It’s pretty.” Too bad I feel all kinds of exposed and I wouldn’t normally care who sees me since I’m no one special, but this night I’m sitting with a bunch of celebrities and paired with the last man on earth I can afford to be seen paired with as if we’re… dating. Shit. If I saw Godfrey Collins right now I’d strangle him for bagging out of this assignment. I bet he’s not really on a cruise. I bet he’s sitting happy and all by himself in his Manhattan studio eating popcorn and watching sports news while I try to handle the most difficult man I’ve ever met.

I give Maddox a nudge with my knee and try to communicate my discomfort. He lifts his eyebrows as if he’s clueless, but I know he’s smarter than that. I slide away from him a smidge, but that only brings me closer to the movie-star-handsome Raphael Lemaire. But at least there’s no mistaking that he’s with Zoey, since they’re newlyweds and plastered to each other.

I take the opportunity to hide behind my menu as people walk by and their glances are inevitably drawn to our table and whispers follow. I pray that no one takes out their cell phones for photos, but I don’t lower my menu to check. The traffic of people back and forth eases and I

take surreptitious glances around at the crowd as everyone discusses the menu choices.

That’s when I notice Nora Olak, the damn pesky reporter. She must have followed us here and now she’s watching from a nearby table. If she’s waiting for juicy tidbits then she doesn’t have long because Maddox is in his element and in full flirtation mode.

“So Harper,” he says after handing over his menu. “What are you having tonight? Any desert?” My eyes flick to the server’s and one corner of his mouth scrunches as he returns my glance. My inward groan is so loud I imagine the whole table hears the flirtatious drawl when they all look at me expectantly. But then I realize it’s because they’re expecting some kind of rebuke from me and I gladly comply.