Mr. Wrong By Lisa Scott
Diana Hart stared at her computer screen and tried not to panic. When she gave up her therapy practice so she could devote time to writing, she assumed the words would fly—but her mind and her computer screen were blank. Bad news, because she had a lot of writing to do. The publisher had signed her for a two-book deal after buying her first book proposal, The Ex Exit Survey—How to Learn From Your Breakups. Her former client, Aubrey, was thrilled to be the inspiration for that title. But now the second book proposal was due, and Diana was stumped for ideas. What would the publisher say if she didn’t come through? Even worse—what would her mother say?
Diana’s phone rang. Saved by the ring tone, she thought. “Hello?”
“Diana, it’s April twelfth, our deadline has come and gone. The publisher wants the proposal for your second book yesterday.” Her agent, Miriam, did not sound happy.
“I’m working on it right now,” Diana said. Which was partially true. She was trying to work on it. She had to work on it. The advance would carry her for the next year, and her mother was the star of her bridge club now that her daughter was going to be an author. There was no backing out.
“Good, what’ve you come up with?” Miriam asked.
“Well…”
Miriam said nothing for a moment. “Diana, be honest with me. If you don’t have any ideas let me help you brainstorm.”
Diana let out the breath she’d been holding. “I don’t have any ideas. Not any good ones. I’m already focusing on my clients’ stories in book one. It would seem like a rehash to do that in book two.”
“That’s easily solved. Focus on yourself. Your own love life. Part memoir, part advice guide. We could call it From The Hart.” Miriam sighed. “I’m a genius. I love it.”
Diana almost choked. “My love life?”
“Yes. Things you’ve learned along the way. How you’d advise your younger self on the mistakes you’ve made.”
The only mistakes she’d made were not dating enough men. She’d never had a one-night stand. She’d never gone on a blind date. Each one of her relationships had been exactly alike: Same type of guy—professional, conservative, and wealthy; same length— nine months to a year; same result—her walking away because things had become boring. She had no experience with heartache and none of the euphoria of new love. “Miriam, I’m not as experienced as you might think.”
“Well, that could work, too. You could get out there and write about your search for Mr. Right. I want your perspective on the whole thing as a therapist and a single woman. I’ll let the publisher know we’ve settled on an idea, you get me the detailed proposal in two weeks. Sound good?”
Diana froze. A memoir about her non-existent love life? “It’d be more like looking for Mr. Wrong.”
“Even better! A book on the pitfalls of dating and how to handle them. In fact, forget about finding Mr. Right. Get out there and have some dating disasters.”
“I’m sure I can manage that.”
“Great.” Miriam hung up.
Diana gripped the arms of her chair in the tiny office in her apartment and reminded herself to take deep breaths. She dropped her head back and groaned. How in the hell was she going to pull this off? Her love life had never been dramatic. Things always just fizzled out with the men she dated. Her mother had drummed into her head from an early age that Diana needed to support herself. Diana’s father had left when she was toddler and her brother was just a baby, leaving her mother to scramble for a job to keep the family afloat. So, while Diana longed for a family of her own, her career always came first—and it showed in her relationships. That wasn’t very interesting. How was she going to orchestrate dating disasters? She wasn’t a hot mess or a drama queen.
She twirled her pencil between her fingers. If dating the same professional, reliable men always led to the same result, then she had to start dating totally different men. Men who seemed entirely unsuitable for her.
She jumped up and looked around the room as if the perfectly bad guy was hiding behind the curtains in the bright, airy room. How was she supposed to find Mr. Wrong? It’s not like she’d gone out trolling for her past boyfriends. She’d met all of them at charity events or friends’ parties. She couldn’t start there if she wanted to meet someone different. Diana paced the office, her heels clunking on the hardwood floor.
Her brother had a string of ex-girlfriends. He was great at being Mr. Wrong. She called him up and made plans to meet him for drinks that night. And maybe she’d find a bad boy at the bar once she was done interrogating her brother. Her clients met disappointing men at bars all the time. If she wanted to find Mr. Never-No-Way, that would be a great place to start.
She dashed into her bedroom to choose the perfect outfit for picking up the wrong type of guy. But after trying on six different pantsuits, she realized she’d never attract any attention walking into a bar in a double-breasted blazer. A trip to the mall was needed before she went searching for bad boys. She didn’t even have any girlfriends she could trust with shopping for this adventure; they’d all automatically steer her toward Ann Taylor or Talbots. No, Diana would have to do this on her own.
Two malls and six stores later, she had a new wardrobe consisting of shorter skirts, higher heels, and skimpier tops. And absolutely no barrettes or headbands. “Leave your hair down, you look less uptight,” one of the sales girls had told her. “It’s like, super pretty for someone your age,” another teenager added. After downing a milkshake at the food court to get over that slam, she reminded herself that thirty-three really isn’t that old these days.
And Diana was going to out with lots and lots of perfectly wrong men to prove it.
***
Toby Carter nodded and smiled over dinner, as his girlfriend detailed the pros and cons of the apartment complex she was going to buy. “What do you think?”
He pushed aside his plate. “I think we’re going to have to kiss our cruise goodbye this summer. You’ll be too busy with this latest project.”
Lorna shrugged without looking up from her phone. “So we move the trip back to the fall, or maybe next spring. I have to get this complex. My portfolio isn’t diversified enough. If the market ever crashes again—no, when it crashes again—this rental income will be a good cushion.”
Toby snaked his arm around her shoulder and lowered his voice. “The only kind of cushions I want to talk about are the ones on my couch where we should go right now and do it.”
She removed his hand from her shoulder. “Focus on the rental.”
He sighed and sat back in his seat. “Fine. Speaking of real estate, I was thinking about buying a beach house in Miami. What do you say we do a little house hunting down there this weekend?”
She sighed, like he was a foolish boy she had to correct yet again. “Toby, I’m going to have to spend the weekend checking out other apartment buildings to be sure I’m getting the right one.”
Toby poured himself more wine. When he’d first inherited the surprise windfall from his mother, he’d been very careful not to hook up with bimbo spend-a-holics who partied too much, spent too much, and cared too little. So he’d sought out professional businesswomen, who hopefully valued a sizeable savings account the way he did. He’d continued working as a financial planner, and he was his own best client.
But Lorna wasn’t interested in his money; she wanted to be sure she didn’t find someone after hers. The most important quality a man could have was not needing her. “Lorna, we haven’t done anything spontaneous and fun in—ever.”
She didn’t look up from her phone. “I can’t afford to be spontaneous and fun.”
“Yes, you can. And so can I. We could take ten fabulous trips and it wouldn’t ding our bottom line.”
She pouted. “You don’t understand me at all or what’s important to me.”
Toby leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And you don’t understand what’s important to me.”
She looked up at him, her green eyes that once enchanted him now hard and cold. “Money. Success. Security.”
“They’re on the list. But things like fun, travel, just enjoying myself? Those are currently trending much higher in my world.”
“Toby…”
He finished the last of his drink, while Lorna kept her eyes glued to her phone. “Maybe we should take a break, Lorna. See if our priorities match up after a little time apart.” He stood up.
She rolled her eyes, looking up at him for a moment. “Fine. I’ll go to Miami with you. I can do my research online.” Her gaze returned to her screen.
“You would, wouldn’t you?”
This time she didn’t even look at him.
“We definitely need a break. I’ll talk to you in a few weeks.”
“Who will I take to the Daffodil ball?” Finally, she sounded concerned.
“Your realtor?”
She thought about it for a moment and shrugged. “That might work.”
“Goodbye, Lorna.”
She waved at him while tapping away on her phone. “We’ll talk in a few weeks.”
No we won’t.
He left the restaurant and climbed into his waiting car outside. “Just take me home, George,” he told the driver.
“And Miss Smith?”
“We won’t be seeing her again.”
“I see.” George started the engine and headed for home.
Damn, Toby needed to get out to the kind of bars he went to before the millions in his mother’s surprise inheritance landed in his lap. He needed to find a woman who didn’t follow the Federal Reserve chairman on Twitter—who didn’t discuss the Dodd-Frank act endlessly. One who did shots. Body shots. Who could leave her cell home for the night without breaking out in hives.
He knew exactly who could help—his little brother Eric. Once he got home, he called him up and gave him the rundown.
Eric laughed over the phone. “Dude, finally. You can meet me out tonight. Do not wear a suit. Any chance you’re sporting a goatee these days?”
Toby flopped onto his couch. “No.”
“Start letting your beard grow out.”
“That’s itchy.”
“At least a soul patch.”
Toby rubbed his temples. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s hot. A little patch of beard, right under your lower lip.”
“That’s what those stupid things are called? I’ll grow a handlebar mustache before I grow one of those.”
“Chicks dig facial hair.”
“Not the chicks I want to date,” Toby said.
“Bro, you are so over thirty.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Bro, you are so not far behind. Twenty-six is closer to thirty than twenty.”
“Bro, maybe you shouldn’t come out tonight. You’re going to bum me out.”
“Drinks are on me.”
“So, I’ll see you later then.” Eric was going through his inheritance much more quickly than Toby.
“See you there. I’ll be the one without facial hair, wearing a suit,” Toby said, as Eric hung up.
***
The cold night air chilled Diana’s bare legs as she stood outside the bar, while couples walked by talking and laughing. “You have to do this. This is your job now. The book is your job. It’s your future,” Diana said to herself. She walked into the bar, aware of several heads turning as she scanned the crowd for her brother, Matt. She spotted him at the end of the bar talking to a redhead. He certainly didn’t have problems attracting women. Attracting the right women was another story. Maybe I should write the book about him, she thought.
Matt looked her way and waved her over. She squared her shoulders and walked toward him, still a little unsteady on heels three inches higher than she was used to.
Matt looked her up and down. “I always knew I had a much cooler twin sister out there.”
Diana sat down next to him. “Keep trying, your jokes could be funny some day.”
Matt ignored her and jerked his thumb toward the woman next to him. “Diana, this is Stacy.”
“Tracy,” the woman said.
Diana smiled. Run you poor girl, run! “Nice to meet you.”
“So, I’ll give you a call this week,” Matt said, turning his back to the woman.
“Okay. Great!” Tracy blinked at him, then left.
“You leverage your good looks to the detriment of your inner qualities,” Diana said, with a sigh.
Matt set down his drink. “What? What did you say? That was an insult, wasn’t it? I told you, no psycho-babble talk around me.”
She ignored him. “I’m working on a relationship book and I wanted to ask you a few questions.”
He grinned and crossed his muscular arms. “You’re coming to the master. Very smart.”
“All of your relationships have been spectacular disasters.”
“Spectacular?” He made a mock-bow. “Why, thank you.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “When you start dating a girl, do you know it isn’t going to work out, or do you always think that there could be a chance she’s the one?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I know she’s the one for the night. That’s a good start.”
“Matt…”
“What? I don’t think that far ahead.”
“Of course not. How do you meet them? Always at a bar?”
“Usually. How else would I be meeting them?”
Diana shrugged. “Setups. Online dating.”
He laughed. “Do I look like I need to do online dating?”
“It has nothing to do with what you look like. It’s a way to meet someone compatible.”
“I’ll know if she’s compatible once I kiss her.”
“I think I’ll change the title of my book to the Neanderthal’s Guide to Dating.”
“I want half the profits.”
“I don’t think it will sell very well.” She hopped off her stool. “Well, I’ll leave you to Tracy.”
“I think her name’s Macy. And I already got her number. I’m going to hit another bar and get a few more. Maybe some girl will be lucky enough to come home with me tonight.”
“You’re pathetic. Mom must’ve been having an affair when she got pregnant with you because you’ve got some bum DNA mixed up in there.” Diana went to the restroom to touch up her makeup. Or rub it off, is more like it, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror. Since she usually just dabbed on a bit of lip-gloss and mascara, the full foundation, blush eyeshadow and liner she was wearing was a little overwhelming. She blinked at herself. She certainly looked different, but she had to admit, she did look good.
She walked back into the bar and her sights immediately zoomed in on a tall, hot, dark-haired guy in a suit, leaning against the bar laughing. She smoothed down her skirt, dismayed that her fingers felt flesh so high up on her thigh, and headed for the guy.
His gaze followed her. “Hello. Can I get you a drink?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and swallowed, searching for the right thing to say. “If you’re lucky.” Good lord, maybe she did share DNA with Matt.
The guy smirked. “I’m Toby.” He looked familiar.
“Dina,” she said, quickly creating an alter ego on the fly.
Another tall, buff guy squeezed between them. “And I’m Eric, Toby’s younger, hotter brother.”
Diana shook Toby’s hand and then Eric’s. She met Toby’s gorgeous blue eyes, and checked out his smart-fitting suit, his lean build, and his expensive shoes. Shit! He’s a carbon copy of all the men she’d ever dated. No wonder he looked familiar. She’d probably bumped into him at a charity event before.
She forced herself to look away from Toby and smile at Eric. He was good-looking too, in his tight t-shirt, scruffy hair, and dark jeans. He had a little patch of hair under his bottom lip. Steeling her nerves, she reached out and ran a finger over it. “Looks like you missed a spot.”
Eric gave Toby a look. “Nope, I left that there on purpose. Just a little something to enhance the kissing experience. And other things.”
Diana’s hand flew to her mouth. What did a flirty girl say at a moment like this? She forced a giggle. God, a giggle—from her mouth. “I like my men scruffy.” Which wasn’t true. Toby’s clean-shaven face was very appealing, but going after him would be following a road to nowhere. She needed a guy like Eric for the book.
Toby closed his eyes and nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Her instincts had Diana longing to follow Toby to a table, but her instincts had never been right before, so she turned back to Eric and asked, “Wanna buy me a drink?”
***
And he did. Three of them, after consuming twice as many himself. Toby had long since left the bar, and she thought about calling a cab for Eric so he’d get home safely. He was a nice enough guy, keeping his hands to himself and mumbling bad lines, mostly involving her eyes and breasts. Luckily, a cute blonde showed up and hurried over. “I hope he’s not bothering you,” the woman said.
“Oh, no. He’s fine. We’ve just been chatting.” Although he did spend much of the night with his arm looped around her shoulders telling her how pretty she was. Luckily, he hadn’t tried anything else. “Are you his girlfriend?” Diana took a step away from Eric.
“No. I’m Emily. Just a friend who puts up with way too much of this shit. But if I don’t, who will?”
Diana was going to explain the concept of enabling and co-dependency, but she just smiled and said, “That’s so nice of you. He’s a great guy, except for…”
“This. I know.” The woman pried Eric away from the bar and helped him shuffle to the door.
Eric turned around and blew Diana a kiss. “Wanna go out sometime?”
She knew she should. He certainly was a candidate for Mr. Wrong, but she was fairly certain she could cross Eric off the list. He’d already given her enough for a chapter tonight. “Sorry, I’m leaving the country for a while.”
“Damn. Call me when you get back.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Maybe she’ll be kind enough to save you a barf bag from the plane, you dork.”
“Would you do that?” Eric asked.
“Sure,” Diana said, wondering how the evening would’ve ended had she walked over to Toby.
No doubt, it wouldn’t have yielded as much good material for the book.
***
Toby had long since left the bar, but he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he did send off an uptight vibe. Dina’s interest in him had melted the minute she saw Eric. Dina seemed like the type he was looking for. Party girl, but something more, too. He hadn’t had trouble meeting new women after he left The Brownstone Bar. He’d met plenty of fun girls who had zero interest in talking bond rates or what the latest unemployment rates meant for the market. But once they started chatting about reality shows, he was out. It was one of his rules. And all of the women he’d met tonight had mentioned the Kardashians. He just couldn’t do it. He drained his beer and went home; surprised he’d had zero success his first night out.
***
Diana got home, scrubbed off her makeup, and changed into pajamas. Then she spent an hour taking notes on her evening. It would make for an interesting chapter, her first foray out as a flirty girl. It was strange, actually focusing on her dating life instead of her career. She laughed to herself. She was focusing on her career by doing this.
Before turning in for the night, she checked her email and then spotted a popup ad for an online dating service. ‘Meet your future mate,’ the ad promised. Why not? she thought. This could fill a few chapters if it’s bad enough.
She answered the lengthy questionnaire exploring her taste in men. She answered most of the questions the opposite of how she truly felt, left out the employment history and boosted her bust size a bit. She admitted to loving seafood and despising rock bands featuring high-tenored men, like Rush and Supertramp. She liked her men deep-voiced, this was true. Then she filled in her name: her new alter ego, Dina. Dina, who liked bad boys, scruffy guys, and men looking for fun instead of commitment. When it came time to upload a picture, she panicked. What if someone recognized her? She went to a stock photo site and bought a photo of a cute brunette who looked a bit like her and uploaded that instead.
The next morning, she had six contact requests from men who the computer algorithm had deemed a good match. She looked through guys eager to meet Dina, and settled on two—a handsome blond who probably was also using a stock photo because the lighting was perfect, and a guy who called himself Witty Will and displayed a cartoon of Woody the Woodpecker as an avatar. There had to be a dirty implication flying right over her head, but maybe he was a good choice. She’d never done funny before. This would be good for a chapter or two.
She clicked on Will’s avatar and read his message. “Hey you sexy thing. How about we get together for some laughs and who knows what else?”
Diana fluttered her fingers. Was she really going to do this? Yes, she was. She had to. “I’m at a disadvantage,” she typed back. “I don’t have your picture to see if you’re my type.”
She poured herself some cereal and was surprised by Will’s quick response. He must be online, she thought.
“You won’t be disappointed. I didn’t post my picture because I don’t want a woman who’s just after my looks.”
She rolled her eyes. He might be worth three chapters. She quickly emailed him back. “Then how will I know it’s you when we meet?”
It wasn’t long until his promising response landed in her email box. “I’ll have a nice big package waiting for you. Oh, and a gift on the table with a red bow.”
She gasped, sitting all by herself at the kitchen table. All signs pointed to her being a persnickety old lady some day with a few well-chosen low-heeled shoes. Did she really want to go out with this guy? “Big package. Funny stuff,” she typed back, happy that indecision couldn’t be detected through keystrokes.
“No one’s laughed at it yet.”
“Good to know,” she typed.
They made plans to meet for drinks at The Brownstone Bar on Friday night at eight o’clock. Before contacting the blond hottie, she decided to see how her first blind date went before setting up another.
Then she panicked. What kind of guys responded to singles’ ads in the middle of the night? She imagined guys in dirty boxers with the glow of a boxy old TV illuminating the room. Undoubtedly, these guys wouldn’t be her type and that was the point, right? The badder the better. She took a deep breath. It’s for the book. It’s for the book.
The phone rang and she answered without looking—a big mistake.
“Hi, darling. It’s mother.”
Diana pressed her lips together to keep a sigh from escaping.
“Are you there?”
Diana forced a smile, like her mother could see her. “Yes, how are you, Mother?”
“I’m wondering how the books are coming?”
“Oh, it’s…good. I’m making progress.”
“Diana, are you sure leaving the therapy practice was a good idea? Are these books enough to pay your bills?”
Diana could feel her blood pressure rising. “For a while, yes.”
“And after that?”
Diana’s throat tightened. “I’ve taken care of myself all these years, Mother, I think I’ll be fine.”
“Because you can’t count on a man to do that for you.”
“I don’t have a man to count on, so don’t worry!”
“I just want the best for you,” her mother said. How many times had she said that to her over the years?
Diana rubbed her temples. “I know. I know. I’m working on the book, and I have a blind date tonight.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not for me; it’s for the book. Gotta go, Mom.”
***
On Friday, Diana wasn’t loving any of her new clothes, so she went on another shopping trip and while she was out, she decided to schedule a waxing appointment, too. It had been a while, and maybe if she were lucky, she could turn her first ever blind date into her first one-night-stand and have plenty to write about.
She got home and tried on the new frilly bra she’d bought and modeled it in front of the mirror. “Cute,” she said. Then she narrowed her eyes. “No, it’s sexy.” Feeling emboldened, she grabbed her phone and snapped a few pictures of her new purchase. She looked at them on the screen. Damn, her chest looked small. She tried a few different angles, and finally was satisfied with a picture of her leaning forward slightly, with the camera tilted just so. Another first, she thought. She’d never taken a racy picture of herself for a guy. She’d never even sexted. “That’s going to change tonight and it’s going in the book.”
She composed an email to Will with the picture of her in her bra, and a flirty message: “I’ve got my own package for you to unwrap.” She saved it in her draft file to send later, once she was certain Witty Will didn’t have a rap sheet or halitosis.
After downing a glass of wine to get over her audacity, she slipped into a tight black dress, and flat ironed her hair, then went through her new makeup routine. She was looking good and feeling nervous and called a cab to drive her to the bar. She didn’t think she could handle the walk. After a very aggressive waxing session, she already had her first tip for the book: don’t fix your bikini line the day of the date. She mentally composed that chapter in her head on the ride over, then tried not to hobble into the bar as her sensitive skin protested. She’d ditched the undies because of the pain; the slightest touch hurt. A one-night stand was feeling unlikely if not impossible tonight.
She scanned the bar for Witty Will and his gift, and then froze. Her brother was sitting at a table with a beer, smirking at the mural of the naked mermaid on the wall across from him. Holy hell, no way was she going to meet a blind date—from an online matchmaking site—in front of her brother. She’d never hear the end of it. Was it too late to change locations? She’d suggest another bar close by. She and Will hadn’t exchanged phone numbers yet, so she fumbled for her phone to send him an email. Her brother looked up. “Diana?”
She froze, then waved. “Hi, Matt.”
Smiling, he looked her up and down. “Are you going to a very early Halloween party?”
“Shut up. I’m just trying a different look.”
“Trampy librarian? Slutty transcriptionist?”
If she were closer to him she’d have whacked him with her purse. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here for a drink,” she said, scanning her email. “But he just suggested we meet up somewhere else,” she lied, “so I have to be going.” She found her last email to Witty Will’s address and tapped out a message, telling him where to meet her. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be annoyed with the last minute change.
“Tell me about this guy,” Matt said, folding his arms and grinning.
She shrugged. “Sorry, I’ve got to be going.” She finished her email and hit send. Then her stomach sank, realizing what she’d done. She’d sent the bra picture. And he’d be getting it any minute—a guy she didn’t even know! Her heart pounded. Maybe that will insure things do go well. No doubt he’d show up at the correct bar now, she thought.
“Can you hang on a minute and save my table while I hit the john?” Matt asked.
Her palms were sweaty and she was thinking about calling the whole thing off. “Sure. But hurry up.”
He stood up and grabbed a small, flat box from his lap. It had a red bow on top. Her stomach fell as she dropped onto the stool. “What is that? Is that—a package?”
He looked down and smirked. “That’s not my package. That’s tucked away for a special lady tonight. This is a gift for my blind date.” He rocked back on his heels.
Diana struggled for words. “A woman from an online dating website.”
He cocked his head. “Yeah, I decided to try it out after you mentioned it the other night. But, how did you know?”
She dropped onto a chair and shook her head. Then she closed her eyes. She felt a pounding headache on its way and the music in the bar wasn’t helping. “I know you went to an online dating site, because I’m Dina. Your date.” She looked up at him.
He stared at her without blinking. “Shut the hell up. No, I mean it.” He pointed at her. “You take that back.”
Laughing nervously, she reached into her purse and grabbed her hand sanitizer. “Witty Will?” She doused her hands with the clear gel and started rubbing furiously.
“Yeah. Will? William? My middle name? You don’t think I’d put my real name out there. God only knows who goes on those sites.” His eyes bulged.
She rubbed the sanitizer on her arms. “You created a different email account for this? And the avatar. Oh, my god. Woody the woodpecker. Woody. Ewww!” Diana held her hand over her stomach. “This cannot be happening. I got a bikini wax for tonight.”
“I trimmed my—”
Diana shrieked. “Go away!” She squirted sanitizer at him, and then looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I changed the sheets on my bed for this.”
Matt shoved his fingers in his ears. “La, la, la, la. I’m dreaming. This is just a horrible dream and I will wake up next to a hot blonde when I open my eyes.” He opened his eyes. “Shit! You’re still there. I was hoping to see a hottie with big tits.”
That’s one thing I don’t have, she thought, unless photographed from a certain angle. Diana clapped a hand over her forehead. “Do not open the email Dina just sent! It’s a picture of—”
“Stop! Don’t say another word.” Matt started turning in circles. “How much does therapy cost an hour? Can you recommend anyone?”
Her mouth opened and closed.
“You have just ruined any chances of me having sex ever again.”
Diana gave him a doubting look.
“At least for the next two days.” He closed his eyes and shivered.
“Really? Because this is my dream come true!”
“I gotta go,” he said, leaving her alone at the table with his package.
Ugh. His gift. She looked at it and started hiccupping.
Matt stalked back and snatched the box. “I’ll eat these myself.”
She stood up and reached for the box. “Wait! I could really use some chocolate right about now.”
He frowned. “They’re edible panties.”
She sat back down. “I could use those, too. I’m not wearing any.”
Matt dropped the box and screamed like he was ten years old again and went running out of the bar.
She dropped her head in her hands and a man approached her. “Usually, I buy women booze to get them out of their underwear, but looks like we’re a few steps ahead.”
She slid off the chair. “I’m going to be sick.”
The guy shrugged. “Come back when you’re done!”
She grabbed the gift and ran out the door.
A text beeped on her phone. From her mother. “Hope I’m not interrupting, but be sure to tell me how your blind date goes.”
***
After scanning the crowd and chatting up one woman dull as drywall, Toby went outside and strolled down the sidewalk. A woman was hustling past him, and she looked familiar. “Hey, slow down. You’re Dina, right?”
“Yes,” she slowed her pace, wincing.
“I met you the other night with my brother, Eric. From what I heard the next day, that didn’t go so well. How about the two of us get a drink?” He arched one eyebrow ever so slightly.
She placed her hand over her mouth and shook her head. “I can’t.” Then she took a few more steps and puked.
His industrial-sized ego was taking a beating here. “Can I get you a ride home?”
“I’ll grab a cab. Please, just leave me alone.” And she hobbled off into the dark.
And with that, he called it a night.
***
It’s not that he was desperate for a date, but after a week of searching for someone different and finding no one, it was time to call in the big guns: his sister, Kyla. He called her and invited her to lunch.
“Are you sick?” Kyla asked, sounding panicked over the phone. “Tell me you’re not sick.”
“No!”
“Something’s wrong. What is it? Just tell me. You spent your entire inheritance on something stupid didn’t you? What was it—a private jet? Your own island?”
He chuckled. “Eric’s the more likely candidate for that. No, Kyla, I just want your opinion on something.”
“Oh, good. I’m excellent at giving opinions. I’ll see you at noon.”
Kyla was waiting for him when he got there, his drink already ordered. “Thanks,” he said.
She reached across the table and patted his cheek. “You’re growing a beard?”
He straightened his silverware. “No, no. Not exactly. I just haven’t shaved in a few days…” He sighed. “I’m not here to talk about facial hair.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we should.”
His eyes met her and his shoulders slumped. “Kyla, I’m having trouble meeting women.”
She raised an eyebrow. “This is a joke, right?”
He held up a hand. “Different women. Different from the uptight girlfriends I’ve had. The ones more concerned about their careers than our future.”
“What about Lorna?”
“She’s just interested in money. Her money and making more of it. She doesn’t care about me and my money.”
Kyla tapped her finger on her nose. “I see. You want me to help you meet women interested in your money? I can think of a few women—make that a few dozen women who’d be interested in your money.”
“No. You know what I mean. Interested in me, not just in having me as an accessory.”
“You want me to be your matchmaker?”
“You got Jessie to go to prom with Nick.”
“I gave her five good babysitting leads.”
Toby popped up an eyebrow.
“What? I was fourteen. I didn’t have a lot of money.”
“Well, do you know anyone who might be right for me?”
She set her hand on his. “You do realize the last guy I tried setting up with other women ended up dating me.”
He nodded. “Good point. And I never would have picked a nerdy astrophysicist as your dream guy.”
“The heart wants what it wants.”
“How is Stone?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Awesome. Perfect. Amazing. He calls me his heavenly astrological body—H.A.B. Hab. Habby, because we’re so habby together.”
Toby stared at his empty plate. “Has he done some sort of weird alien implantation thing on you?”
“Funny. No, the only thing he’s implanting—“”
He cut her off. “Nice weather we’ve been having.”
“It’s hailed the last few days.”
“And it was more enjoyable than this conversation.”
“Do you still want me to try a few setups?” Kyla asked.
“No thanks, Habby.”
***
Diana glared at the calendar hanging over her desk. One more week until her book proposal was due and the bulk of her new dating insights could be scrawled on the back of her business card. Where could she meet more lousy men?
Aubrey. Her old client had suffered many bad breakups. Diana called her to help arrange a horrible setup.
“You want to date one of my exes?” Aubrey asked.
“The worst one.”
“Oh, that would be Dane.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s conceited, egotistical.”
“Excellent! I mean, horrible, but good for me.”
“He doesn’t like spontaneity, he likes things to be a certain way.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Yes!”
“Is he a good kisser?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Perfect. Set me up.”
***
“So, you’re a relationship therapist?” Dane asked over dinner a few days later.
Diana took a long swig of her wine. “Aubrey wasn’t supposed to tell you that. But no, I’m not. Not anymore. I used to be.”
Dane raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you do now?”
Mentioning the book seemed like a bad idea. “Just trying to find my way.”
He set down his beer. “You’re not going to give me a survey or a questionnaire like Aubrey did, are you?”
Damn. She should have thought of that. “No.”
“Good.” Dane steepled his fingers. “Listen, Aubrey’s visit got me thinking about all the time I’ve wasted with the wrong women. So I actually came up with a checklist of my own—do not tell Aubrey.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her.
“What is this?” Diana asked.
Dane crossed his arms. “Think of it as a pre-nup for dating. It’s an agreement as to what I expect out of a relationship.”
Diana bit her tongue really hard, and unfolded the sheet. Her eyebrows shot up. “Changes in hair cut and color are to be discussed first?”
He nodded. “It applies to me as well.”
“You change your hair color often?”
“This agreement insures I won’t.”
Diana read on. “A ten-pound weight gain leads to immediate termination of the relationship.” She looked up at him. “Seems a little harsh.”
“Really? I think it’s rather kind, laying out what I expect from a relationship. Then there will be no surprises. Say you gained weight and I suddenly broke up with you; that might be disconcerting. But with this agreement, you’d know the breakup was coming.”
“Right.” She looked back down at the agreement. “I see you’ve covered everything. Sex three times a week?”
“At least. And there are conditions in there for me as well. Flowers once a week. Two compliments a day.”
“Good. Spontaneity is so overrated.” She continued reading and set down the paper. “I think it’s lovely that you’d accompany me on all shopping trips to help select my wardrobe, but do you really think most women are going to accept this?”
“I think plenty of women will. If they want to go out with me.”
Oh, going out with this man could write the book itself. But how bloody and battered would her tongue be from clamping down on it the entire time? “This is so…gosh. Wow. I’m just not sure what to say.” She pushed the paper back toward him.
“I know. It’s revolutionary.” He smiled. “Are you in? I’d be happy to start a relationship with you once we did the initial weigh-in and measurements to be sure everything’s up to snuff.”
“Perhaps you could date a racehorse,” she said, standing up. “I’m afraid I forgot about this thing I have to do. With a person. Who has a heart. A real one. I’ve got to go. Good luck with this. Please do call and let me know what your first girlfriend thinks.”
She dashed home and took notes, but she didn’t have enough yet to cobble together a full proposal. The publisher was going to have to relax their deadline. Would they cancel the deal instead? She called her agent with the news.
“They’re not going to like that,” Miriam said after Diana told her.
“I’m working on it,” Diana said. “But the idea isn’t fully fleshed out yet.”
“And you’ve been out there? Going out with nasty men?” Diana could swear she heard Miriam smoking over the phone.
“I’ve had plenty of dating duds. I just need some more time.” Why couldn’t she make this work? What was missing?
“Okay. Keep me updated.” Miriam hung up sounding very unpleased.
***
After that, she ignored another phone call from her mother, because she was sure to ask about the book and her blind date and Diana didn’t feel like talking about either of those things. It seemed like a good weekend for sulking, but she had tickets to the Daffodil Ball. She was a longtime supporter and didn’t want to disappoint the organizers. When she bought two tickets a month ago she’d been hopeful that she’d have someone to bring, but here she was still dateless.
So, she called her brother. They’d have to get over this sometime, plus he was always up for a party and free booze. He’d often stood in at such events when she needed a stand-in date. “Hey, Matt. I’ve got a charity event this weekend. The Daffodil Ball. Want to come?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I think we need some time apart.”
“What?”
“You weren’t wearing panties, Diana. For a date. With me. Your brother.”
“I know. I was there, too.”
“You sent me a picture of….”
“I told you not to look! Matt, it was all a big misunderstanding!”
“Give me space. Give me time to heal.” And he hung up.
“Give me a break!” Diana shouted at the phone.
***
Saturday night, she stared in her closet. Her dating research was becoming exhausting. Since she’d decided to take a night off from meeting bad men, and she didn’t have the energy that night to deal with the attention a tight evening gown would bring, she reached for her navy ball gown and wrap, the old, conservative standby. She skipped the eyeshadow, opted for simple earrings, and pulled her hair up, fastening her bangs to the side with a rhinestone barrette. You’re a barrette girl and you know it.
When she stepped into the ballroom, she scanned the crowd and saw all the familiar faces that always came to these events. That included a few old boyfriends. When one spotted her, she gave a friendly wave and scooted off to the ladies room. On paper, the two of them would be perfect. No doubt he’d want another chance so he could round out his lifetime achievements to finally include a wife and family. No thanks. She hid out for a while, and then decided she needed a drink.
As she left the bathroom, she bumped into a man who looked familiar.
“Don’t I know you?” he asked.
Her mind spun until it landed on that night in the bar when she met Eric and his brother. The hot one she’d brushed off. The one she’d run past after the disaster date with her brother. “I don’t believe so,” she lied. “But it’s never too late. I’m Diana.” She held out her hand.
He shook it staring at her. “I’m Toby. I swear we’ve met.”
“Perhaps at one of these events.”
“Perhaps.”
He stared at her with an amused smile. “Are you here with anyone?”
She tipped up her chin and arched a brow. “I’m not. And you?”
“No. But my ex keeps chasing me down. Some people just don’t understand the concept of good-bye.”
“I know what you mean. So, you need some help deflecting her?”
“I thought so.” He took a step closer. “But now what I really need is to get to know you better.”
She stepped back, forcing a smile and trying not to picture how this was going to end a year from now; he was the type she always fell for. It seemed she wasn’t destined to make her mom’s professional dreams for her come true or her own dreams of a family. But, seeing as how she had no other options at the moment, she said, “That would be nice.” She offered her arm so he could escort her to a table where they’d eat food that aspired to be more, and listen to an emcee talk far too long, and laugh at jokes that were only passably funny.
He pulled back. “Oh, no. I don’t want to go back in there.”
“Excuse me?”
He unleashed a wicked grin. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Because of your ex?”
“Because I can’t get to know you if we’re making polite conversation with the mayor. Or whoever we’re stuck at the table with.”
“But we haven’t eaten.”
“I know a few places.” He grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the ballroom, then down the stairs.
She stepped out into the night air and looked up at him, the wind loosening a few strands of her hair. “Who are you?”
“I told you, my name’s Toby.”
“Toby who?” she asked.
He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Let’s just get to know each other before we give last names or trade resumes.”
She caught her breath. “Sounds good to me.”
“Great. Now let’s go eat.” He led her down the street and they looked up at the moon and talked about the joys of spring versus the delightful crispness of fall. They discussed favorite books and places they longed to travel. Diana thought she might be in love even before they got to dinner, wherever that might be.
He stopped in front of a cart on the corner of the street, steam rolling off the grill and the delicious smell of cooking meat filling the air. “Welcome to my favorite hotdog cart in the whole city.”
Diana covered her mouth and laughed. “This is definitely an upgrade from whatever they’re serving back at the ball.”
They each ordered a footlong with everything, and sat on a bench to enjoy their feast. “I remember roasting hotdogs on the beach down on the Cape when I was a kid,” Diana said. “It’s not going to taste right without a few s’mores to follow it up.”
“I have yet to see a s’more cart downtown. But that would be an interesting venture,” Toby said. “Did you spend your summers on the Cape?”
She looked down, folding the paper hot dog holder into a neat square. “For a few summers we did.” Until her father had left. Once the divorce finally went through, her father sold the house. “Now whenever I see a bonfire on the beach, I stay away, saying the smoke bothers me. But it’s really so no one will see me crying. The happiest days of my childhood were spent down there, before the divorce.” She looked up at him. “That’s getting too personal for tonight, I suppose.”
“No, it’s not. I imagine we’ve all been banged up a bit by this point in our lives. And I’m sorry you have, too. Tell you what. We’ll go up to Maine this summer instead, and roast hotdogs and s’mores. The Cape’s too crowded, anyway.”
“Like I needed more reasons to fall for you,” Diana said.
Toby stared at her. “So you’re feeling the same thing, too?”
“Sometimes, if she’s very lucky, a girl knows what she wants.” Damn, if she were one of her clients she would’ve told herself to slow down. Way down.
He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Why haven’t I met you sooner?” He took her hand, and then stood up. “Come. Let’s walk. I need to know more about you. Were you more of a shell collector or sand castle builder at the beach?”
“Both. I collected shells to decorate my castles.”
He laughed, and squeezed her hand. “We only went to the Cape a few times. We certainly didn’t have a house there.”
“I bet we would’ve had fun playing together as kids,” she said, leaning into him.
“Or maybe I would’ve been awful to you, to hide what I’m sure would’ve been a secret crush. I probably would’ve thrown sand at you and kicked over your castles.”
“I would’ve seen right through it. I had good instincts even when I was a kid.”
He laughed, and tightened his grip on her hand. They strolled the streets and talked for hours, then stopped for coffee and talked some more.
***
Toby couldn’t sleep when he got home, even though it was three in the morning. It was thrilling to have connected with such a beautiful woman without knowing the most basic things about her. What did she do for a living? Had she ever been married? All he knew was he had to see her again.
After two more dates without revealing their most basic background information, Toby decided it was time to lay everything on the table. “Let me make you dinner,” he said over the phone. “It’s time we talked.”
“So, you’re ready for that?” Diana asked, her husky voice over the phone stirring something inside him. “Sounds like a good idea if we’re going to move forward.”
“We are going to move forward. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Diana gave him her address and made plans to meet him in the lobby.
How had he wasted so much time with so many wrong women? He closed his eyes, smiling. She’s the one. I know it.
***
I can’t get into a serious relationship right now, she said to herself. Research for the book had to come first. Hard to do when she’s dating a great guy while her task was meant to be dating losers. What was she supposed to do? She didn’t have enough for the book, and this past week with Toby—well, she just couldn’t include Toby in the book. There had to be a solution. Maybe Toby could help her figure it out.
She slipped into one of her conservative outfits, relieved she no longer had to wear skirts and shirts that left her perpetually chilly, and hurried down to the lobby. Would her heart ever stop pounding?
Toby was there, right on time. He rushed over to the elevator and barely gave her chance to step off before he was kissing her, far longer than she usually allowed in public. He nudged his nose against her ear. “I can’t wait to get to know everything about you,” he whispered, his breath warm and inviting.
She slid her arms around his. “Me, too. I have so many questions for you.”
He led her outside to a waiting Mercedes limo. She paused. “You didn’t have to arrange this.”
He suppressed a grin. “I didn’t. This is my car and driver.”
“Oh.” She blinked and finally ducked into the car when Toby placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her along.
They sat down and the car zoomed away. “I wasn’t expecting this. Who are you?” she asked.
“Toby Carter.”
She blinked. “One of those Carters?” He was one of her old client Aubrey’s brothers.
“Yes, one of those Carters. Maybe you understand now why I didn’t want to tell you at first.”
She looked out the window and twisted her hands in her lap. “It was horrible that the press made such a big deal of the inheritance your mother left when she died.”
“Mom left some of the money to a charity, and hoping to get more publicity for their cause, they released the story about the teacher who had secretly stashed away a fortune.” He sighed. “Despite what you might think, it hasn’t been easy.” He reached for her hand. “Does that change anything for you?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” He smiled and kissed the side of her head. “And what about you, Diana? Tell me about you.”
She hadn’t even thought of where to begin. She laughed. “I feel like we’re on our first date again.”
He grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “They’ve all felt like first dates.”
“I know.” Closing her eyes, she sighed. He was perfect. She’d been right. “Well, let’s see, what can I tell you about me. I’m Diana Hart, and until recently, I was a relationship therapist.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. And now?”
“I’m writing books. Relationship books.”
“Not about me, I hope.” He chuckled.
She shook her head. “No. In fact, I’ve been purposely dating the wrong men to write about the disastrous results.”
He leaned back. “And I’m one of those men?”
She laughed. “Absolutely not. Your brother was, though. That’s where you know me from. Dina from the The Brownstone?”
He slapped his thigh. “You picked my brother, Eric, over me.”
She bit her lip, thinking. “And my brother, too.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. You don’t want to know. I also saw you one night out on the sidewalk. Both times I wanted to talk with you. But I couldn’t.”
“Because of the book,” Toby said, with a hardness in his voice.
“That’s right.”
Toby ran his hand through his hair. “Are you going to stop working on the book now that we’ve met?”
She paused. “I don’t think I can. I signed a contract. I need to finish the proposal.”
“Contracts can be broken.”
“But it’s my new career. I’ve got to do something now that I’ve quit therapy.”
Toby slumped back and sighed. “Of course I was attracted to you. I seem to gravitate toward women who are hyper-focused on their career.”
She put a hand on her hip. “I’m hardly hyper-focused.”
“You’re purposely dating men you don’t like so you can write about it.”
It didn’t sound pretty when he put it that way. “I’d think you’d appreciate a woman who wants to make her own way.”
He softened his voice. “Diana, I want someone who thinks I’m more important than a job. I’ve never been something more than an accessory or a trophy to anyone. I want to be someone’s everything. Is that so much to ask?”
She perched on the edge of her seat and looked out the window. “It’s scary. That’s what my mom had with my dad. He was her everything, and it just crumbled apart leaving me and my mom with a hell of a lot of pieces to pick up. I grew up learning to depend on myself. A man would just be…”
“Something extra.” He nodded. “I know. It’s why every relationship of mine has ended.”
Diana smoothed her hands down her skirt and took a deep breath. “I guess we were smart keeping all these details to ourselves for a few dates.”
Toby’s sigh was far too long and sad. “I’ve been in too many relationships that involved me, the woman and her career. I can’t do it again.”
“Are you saying if I finish this book, we can’t be together?”
“How could we? You’re writing about dating disasters. How can you do that if we’re a couple? You can’t go cruising around bars anymore.”
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, until she quietly said, “Toby, I think you should take me home. It’s good that we got this out in the open now. It would just hurt more a few months down the road when things get more serious.”
“You’re right.” He paused, drumming his fingers on the seat. “Actually, you know what? No. I don’t agree. I think you should take a chance on me.”
“Toby, let’s just keep it casual for a while.”
“That won’t work. Let me know if you change your mind, Diana. I am ready to be a fantastic, fun, attentive boyfriend. No one’s ever given me the chance to be those things. I’ve got the money. I can take care of you.”
“Toby, I’ve always supported myself. If things don’t work out, then where does that leave me?”
“It’ll work out. I have a feeling.”
“I can’t stake my future on a feeling. My father left when I was two. I barely remember him. I’ve seen him maybe a dozen times after that. I’ve counseled hundreds of women who’ve given up everything for a man, only to be left with nothing but regrets. It is very important for me to be independent, Toby. I can’t count on anyone but myself. I wish you understood that my work is important to me, not just for the paycheck.”
“But I’m not important. Or not important enough.”
“Toby…”
“Not enough anyway.”
“I think you should take me home.”
He wouldn’t look at her. “I think you’re right.”
***
Diana went home and cried. This was perfect stuff for the book, all this heartbreak and angst. But Toby wasn’t Mr. Wrong. He was right in so many ways. Except for wanting to come before your career.
She thought over what that really meant. He wanted to be the most important thing to a woman. Was that so bad? Either way, her book proposal was stuck on chapter ten. She emailed her agent and told her she needed more time.
***
For two weeks, Toby tried to forget her, the woman happier with a hotdog from a street vendor than a five-course dinner at a charity ball. Maybe somebody else like her was out there. Unlikely, he thought. But he accepted his brother’s invitation to meet him out. Maybe Eric would remember something about Diana—or Dina—that could help him convince her to give this thing a chance.
At the bar, Toby did his best to describe her to Eric. “Lovely brown, wavy hair. Although it may have been straight that night.”
Eric snapped his fingers. “The chick with the cobra tattoo on her neck.”
“Uh, no. Definitely not her. You don’t remember anything about a woman you spent three hours talking with?”
“Dude, I was—”
“Drunk, I know.”
“Dad died when I was eight. No need to fill in for him now, Bro.”
A beautiful voice interrupted their conversation. “Do you remember me now, Eric?”
Toby spun around and saw Diana standing there smiling.
Eric scrunched his eyebrows. “No, I don’t.”
She frowned. “Lots of eye shadow. Shorter skirt.”
“I remember you,” said Eric’s friend Emily. “You were going to get him a barf bag during your trip overseas.”
“Oh, where did you go?” Toby asked.
Diana gave Toby a look.
“Ah. You weren’t going anywhere, were you?” Toby asked.
“What?” Eric asked.
Emily patted his cheek. “She was trying to get away from you.”
“Why?”
Diana turned up her hands. “I could never keep up with your partying.”
Eric puffed out his chest. “Damn right.”
Sliding off her barstool, Emily pulled Eric away. “She’s not interested in you. Come on, leave them alone.” He followed her to the back of the bar like a sulking toddler.
Toby faced Diana. “What are you doing here? More research for your book?”
“No. I’m meeting my brother here. We had a…” She paused. “A pretty big misunderstanding.”
“So did you and I,” Toby said.
“It wasn’t a misunderstanding. I think we both made ourselves rather clear.”
“But I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He took her hand in his. “I never should have suggested you stop writing the book for me. I think it’s great that you’ve got something you love. I just want to be sure you’d be able to love me as much, too.”
She sat down next to him and put her purse on the bar. “I’m not so sure I love writing. At least not the book on finding Mr. Wrong. I cancelled the second book deal.”
He set his hand on her knee. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me. It was consuming my life and making me do things I didn’t want to do. Like say goodbye to you.”
He reached for his drink and took a sip. “What are you going to do now? Go back to therapy?”
“I’m not sure. But I want to make sure I get my priorities right this time. My mother always insisted I be independent, so I’ve focused on my career. Even though I’ve dreamed of the family I never had growing up, I never wanted to need anyone. Other people can let you down. So instead, I spent years helping other people find love. I’ve never found it myself.”
“Me neither. Until recently.” He grinned at her.
Diana set her hand on his arm. “Is it too late for us?”
“It sounds like perfect timing. We can figure out your new life together.”
She looped her arms around his neck, teasing the hair above his collar. “I was convinced someone like you was wrong for me.”
“Then give me as long as it takes to prove otherwise.” He pulled her in for a kiss.
Eric walked back over and snorted. “And I’m the public embarrassment.”
Emily grabbed his hand and yanked him away. “Let’s go sit down. Far away, in back.” She dragged him away.
“How about we make a deal,” Toby suggested.
Diana’s eyes widened. “Nothing on paper, right?”
He laughed. “No. What kind of guy would do that?”
“The kind of guys I’ve been seeing.”
Toby leaned forward to kiss her. “Not anymore.” He was delighted with the passionate kiss he got back.
A man standing nearby interrupted them. “You never want me to have sex again, do you? No man needs to see his sister sucking face in public like that.” The guy rubbed his eyes.
Diana looked up into the man’s pale face. “Matt, you really need to grow up sometime before you hit middle age. Toby, this is my brother Matt. Matt is upset because he and I ended up going on a blind date together.”
Toby’s eyebrows shot up. “You really did go all out for that book, didn’t you?”
Matt stared off at the mermaid mural on the wall. “I thought I was well enough to come out again.” Matt closed his eyes and shook his head like a wet dog drying off. “I think I’ll be going now.” He turned and left.
Diana watched him go. “Well, I’ve got at least one potential patient if need be.”
Toby took her in his arms. “No, I’m going to keep you busy showing you how much I love you.” She nestled her head against his shoulder.
“Just promise me one thing,” she said.
He nodded. “Anything.”
“Don’t ever buy me edible panties.”
“I don’t want to know why, do I?”
“No. No, you do not. Wait, what was the deal we’re making?”
“To always put each other first,” Toby said.
Diana held out her hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
Instead, he slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him until they were lip to lip. “Let’s kiss on it, instead.”