I glanced into the back seat, and something pink caught my eye on the floor. The reach was a bit of a struggle in my tight dress, but by the time Theo got into the car, I was holding up a half-dressed Barbie.
“Secret daughter?” I asked. “Or secret Barbie fetish?”
Theo’s face went slightly purple. “Secret niece. Where was that?”
“In the back seat.”
“Well, fuck.”
“I thought you said you had no family.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I generally keep my private life very private. It isn’t that I don’t trust you.”
I stared at the Barbie, wondering if every word that came out of his mouth was something more or something less than the truth. “How old is she?”
“The Barbie?”
I gave him a look. “The niece.”
“Oh. I have three of them. They’re six, five, and two.”
“Three of them. Wow.”
“My brother’s kids.”
I sighed. “OK, why not?” Tossing the Barbie into the back seat again, I buckled my seatbelt. “But if it turns out you have a weird Barbie thing, I want my money back.”
He grinned as he started the car. “Deal.”
I grinned back. I liked Theo, despite his ability to rile me up. As long as he kept his fashion, beauty, and dating advice to himself, I was sure I could have a good time with him.
In fact, I was beginning to feel a little sorry it was all just pretend.
Nine
Theo
* * *
“Let’s talk favorites,” I said to Claire as we drove to the reception.
“Favorites?” She looked over at me. God, that little furrow in her brow was adorable. What color did you even call eyes like hers? Sage green? And her lips—how had I not noticed how full and luscious they were the other day? And speaking of luscious, that dress gave her body curves I hadn’t even imagined…and I’d imagined her quite a bit in the last two days.
It was kind of stressing me out. I wasn’t used to one specific woman taking up residence in my fantasies like that—especially not a woman I knew in real life. Generally, I rotated through a reliable spank-bank roster full of anonymous lingerie models or unattainable Hollywood celebrities or porn stars with names like Cherry Poppins and Ivana Bigcock. But for two straight days now (and I can work a lot of fantasizing into two days), even Ivana was morphing into Claire by the time I was done.
I kept telling myself it was because Claire was sort of a novelty. I didn’t meet a lot of women like her—beautiful, smart, nice girls with college educations, close families, and high expectations for the future. I wasn’t celibate or anything, but mostly I stuck to bad girls looking for a good time. The few times I’d actually tried dating had been a disaster. No one could fuck up a good thing like I could.
And I never hooked up with clients. They were usually older women fresh off a breakup or divorce. Nice enough, and always happy with the attention I paid them, but I’d never been attracted to one before. And none of them had ever tempted me to break the Platonic Promise—Claire was a different story. Her hair, her mouth, her body in that dress, those legs…I glanced down at them and my dick started to perk up.
Serves you right, asshole. You made her put that dress on. Why the hell didn’t you let her wear the sack?
Damn it, I should have. But I’d wanted to help her, too. It was obvious she suffered from a lack of confidence, and she was never going to get what she wanted in life if she sat on the sidelines all the time. She needed to put herself in the game. I was just trying to coach her a little.
But fuck, she was hot in the uniform.
Shifting in my seat, I focused on the road ahead and cursed myself for not jerking off right before I left my apartment. “Yes, favorites. Like, what’s your favorite color?”
“You mean your fabulous instincts didn’t tell you?” she teased.
“Ha. If I had to guess, I’d say…pink.” Don’t think about her pink parts. Really, dickhead. Just don’t.
“Good guess. What about yours?”
“Green. Just like my babydoll’s eyes.” I gave her an over-the-top adoring look.
She slapped my arm. “Is green your real favorite color or what?”
“I don’t have one,” I said, chuckling. For someone who struggled with insecurity, she had a feisty streak a mile long. My eyes strayed to her legs again as I wondered which side of her personality came out in bed.
For fuck’s sake. Stop it.
I cleared my throat. “Favorite food?”
“Hmm. Maybe Italian? I love meatballs.”
It killed me to let that one go by, but I did. “Me too. Favorite restaurant?”
“Andiamo,” she said without missing a beat. “I love the tiramisu there.”
I nodded. “Good to know. Favorite movie.”
“Uh uh. I’m making you guess this one, smartypants.” She crossed her arms. “I gave you the last few.”
A smile pulled at my lips. “Let me think.” I rubbed a hand over the stubble on my chin, gave her a critical glance. “Well, it’s definitely something romantic with a happy ending, although you probably cry every time you watch it.”
“Guilty,” she said with a sigh. “My friends are always teasing me about how emotional I get at movies. But who doesn’t like a happy ending? There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”