Arm Candy Read online

  “Hmm.”

  “Who knows? Things could go that way, if you play your cards right.”

  “And what did you say she looked like?”

  Glen smiled. “I didn’t. But now that you ask, she’s a babe. A little thing, but a powerhouse, if you know what I mean. Auburn hair, blue eyes. Really striking. She could have the men lining up, but—”

  Dan nodded, pleased, but not all that concerned. Her looks were incidental. Her mind was what interested him. She was willing to pay to have an escort. He didn’t need the money, but he did have something he wanted to bargain for. “Tell you what. Set up a meeting. Whenever it’s convenient for her. We’ll talk.”

  “She’ll be thrilled.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Glen pushed himself off the wall. “What are you plotting?”

  “Quid pro quo, Glen. With some very exciting potential.”

  Women…

  If you praise her, she thinks you’re lying

  If you don’t, you’re good for nothing

  If you talk, she wants you to listen

  If you listen, she wants you to talk

  If you visit her often, she thinks you’re boring

  If you don’t, she thinks you’re cheating

  If you’re jealous, she says it’s bad

  If you’re not, she thinks you don’t love her

  If you stare at other women, she accuses you of flirting

  If other men stare at her, she’s flattered

  If you want sex, she says you don’t respect her

  If you don’t, she thinks you’re gay.

  Source: Thomas, Megan “Men are Marvelous Creatures.”

  http://www.cs.berkeley.edu/~mct/funny/woandmen.html

  2

  GLEN STARED AT HIM for a long moment, clearly trying to figure out whether or not he would move forward. “I’ll call her tonight,” Dan finally said with a slow grin.

  “Great.”

  The coffee aroma filled the kitchen, and Dan got down two mugs. “Can I ask how come you’re not the one who’s stepping up to the plate?”

  “Hey, I’d do it in a minute, but I have to be in L.A. Besides, I think this will work out better.”

  “Oh?” He got out the cream from the fridge, took it and the mugs to the butcher-block table. He nodded for Glen to take a seat, and made a pass at his pantry. He brought out a couple of boxes of cookies. By then the coffee was ready, so he carried the pot over and poured.

  “Jessica and I go back to college, and I’d say I know her pretty well. Inside that ambition is one hell of a good woman. She just has to take off the blinders. See something of the world around her. From what I’ve heard, that seems to be your specialty.”

  Dan sat down. “Curious perspective, and I suppose reasonably accurate.”

  “Yeah. You two will be…interesting.”

  “I wonder why she hasn’t just put the kibosh on the boss. Doesn’t he know there are laws?”

  “According to Jessica, she doesn’t want the hassle. She’s planning a move upward after her campaign is a raging success.”

  “Got it. Always looking at the next step, eh?”

  “Never misses the details on a spreadsheet.”

  “But almost gets hit by the bus?”

  Glen grinned, and lifted his coffee mug. “To new adventures.”

  Dan clicked his mug but, instead of taking a sip, he said, “Hey, why don’t you give Jessica a call now? See if she can meet me for a drink tonight.”

  Glen pulled out his cell phone and dialed. By the time he hung up, the arrangements were made, and Dan had two hours to put together his counterproposal.

  If it worked, it was going to be one hell of a lot more exciting than any race.

  JESSICA CHECKED OUT her appearance in the window of the bistro. The weather had been kind to her hair, she’d reapplied lipstick in the cab, and her Donna Karan suit looked as if she’d put it on a half hour ago. Not that it mattered. She was the one doing the hiring, but still. The situation was just awkward enough to have a built-in nervousness factor of ten, minimum.

  Dan Crawford. She’d done an Internet search on him, and what she’d seen had taken her utterly by surprise. The man was a very highly paid computer consultant and had worked for some of the biggest financial institutions in the world. His prices must be astronomical, causing her to call Glen back and make sure he hadn’t promised she’d pay the man her entire yearly wage. Glen had assured her that if Dan Crawford did this, it wasn’t going to be for the money. Which begged the question…

  Why? Why would he give her odd little proposal a moment’s thought? What could he possibly get out of it, if not money?

  She was about to find out. If she could get her legs working and walk inside. After a deep breath and a little pep talk, she yanked on the hem of her jacket, pushed her handbag strap up on her shoulder and walked inside.

  Dorian’s was an upscale Wall Street bar. Martinis of all flavors dotted the tall tables in the bar, hoisted by the young and the restless go-getters in their Prada and Emporio Armani. Not much laughter, but a lot of chatter, caromed off walls decorated with three-dimensional art, mostly in shiny metals or rusted copper. It worked, especially with the oak bar and tables.

  She walked a little farther, until she was midway between the door and the bar itself, then did a quick perusal. No one looked like Dan Crawford, although one young man to her right bore a marked resemblance to Colin Firth. She kept scouting.

  Her reward came seconds later. At the far right edge of the bar, a man, alone, saving a seat, looked up expectantly. He was pretty damn close to Glen’s description. Around thirty-five. She couldn’t tell if he was six foot three, but he had that tall, lanky look about him. Dark hair, smooth, shiny, thick, parted on the right. Wide eyes, generous mouth, and a nose just a wee bit big for his face. Altogether a striking combination. A little too striking.

  Glen hadn’t said anything about him being gorgeous. The word hadn’t come into play once. And she knew from experience that Glen knew gorgeous. So maybe it wasn’t Dan.

  The man in question waved, quashing her doubts. He stood. Yep. Six-three at least. Smiling, too. A great smile. A smile that multiplied the gorgeous by a factor of six.

  She pasted her own smile on her face and made her way through the crowd. He manfully held on to the two bar stools, chasing away a blonde with boobs the size of grapefruits.

  “I really hope you’re Jessica Howell,” he said as soon as she was in earshot.

  “I am.”

  “Good because this is the only empty seat in the place. Guess I should have suggested somewhere quieter.”

  “There isn’t anyplace quieter. Not around here at least.”

  He held out his hand. Long, supple fingers, strong grip. Warm, but not at all damp. She felt her cheeks heat just from the touch, which wasn’t like her. Not at all.

  “Sit. Let me buy you a drink.”

  “I should be the one buying.”

  “Next round, if you want,” he said. “What’s your pleasure?”

  “A Merlot, please.”

  He nodded, then turned to get the attention of the bartender as Jessica climbed up on the stool. Being so short, it was always an iffy proposition, but she didn’t flash anyone on her way up. She put her handbag on her lap and glanced at Dan. He was even better-looking close up. It was his lips, of course. Pouty, full, but incredibly masculine. Laugh lines etched on each side. If Marla were here, she’d wax rhapsodic about their kissability. Their smoochiness. Ah, that Marla. She had a way with words.

  Dan put his credit card on the bar when the drinks arrived. He’d ordered a German lager, and he didn’t bother pouring it into the iced stein. Instead, he took a long pull from the bottle, giving her an enticing view of his Adam’s apple.

  Her gaze moved down to his shirt. White oxford, well tailored, silk, she’d bet. It fit him beautifully, and she liked that he’d rolled up the sleeves a couple of turns. His jeans surprised her, but then she
realized he wasn’t tied to a company, and he could wear any damn thing he liked. The jeans got her vote. They were good old-fashioned Levi’s and they fit his tall, yummy body like a glove.

  He coughed, and she almost spilled her wine in an attempt to get her gaze up and away from where it’d been focused. Again with the blushing. Good God, what was the matter with her? She must be getting her period. She was never this…aware.

  “Glen filled me in on your dilemma.”

  “So he said, but I want to make sure you understand completely before we go any further.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It’s really an acting job. I assumed he’d know someone out of work who could use the money. I can’t imagine why you’d be at all interested.”

  “I’ll tell you. But first, let me hear what you expect.”

  She sipped some wine, felt it melt all the way down, easing a bit of her nervousness. “I’ve got a boss who’s completely out of control, and I need someone to pretend to be my lover for the week. We’re launching a line of cosmetics with a huge press bash and back-to-back junkets. Whoever I hire is going to have to be available for any or all of the events. For meals. For anything, all the while acting like we’re the couple of the decade.”

  “Yep, that’s pretty much what Glen said.”

  “Okay, so why would you be interested? I have to tell you, I almost didn’t come. He twisted my arm, made me promise to see you. But I don’t get it.”

  “Well, Jessica, I think there’s something we could do for each other. I see your problem, and while I’m not an actor, I think I could play the part. I’m a quick study, and I have no social ties that would interfere.”

  “But?”

  He smiled with those lips of his. She almost giggled like a coquette.

  “Here’s what I want,” he said, studying her eyes. “I want access.”

  “Access?”

  He nodded. “To you.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “To your thoughts.”

  She opened her mouth, but the only thing that came out was a kind of cluck.

  “All of them.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He laughed. The sound was rich and deep and almost enough to make her stop questioning his sanity. Almost.

  “Okay, let me explain.”

  “Please do.”

  “I’m a curiosity junkie. Can’t help it. It’s a long, long story, full of interesting tidbits about my eccentric upbringing and my parents’ radical philosophy, which I’m sure we’ll discuss in detail over the next week, but the upshot is, I live to get answers to the big questions. I studied physics with some of the greatest minds on the planet, and theology in Rome and Israel. I’ve challenged my senses, my abilities, and always attacked the major problems of my life head-on. I might quake in my boots, but I do it until I’m satisfied. Which doesn’t mean I’m always successful. But I never wonder what would have happened if only I’d dared.”

  “And what has that got to do with pretending to be my boyfriend?”

  He laughed again. “Everything. Because what I want from you is answers.”

  “To what questions?”

  “All of them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “All of them about women.”

  “I don’t know all the answers about women.”

  “But you know the answers for you.”

  She gave him a long look.

  He grinned back at her. “No, I’m not certifiable. Nuts, yes. But not quite at the padded-room stage.”

  “You want answers about women?”

  He nodded.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, I get to ask you anything. No holding back. No thinking twice about propriety. I ask, you answer. Honestly. To the best of your ability. All the questions I’ve wanted to ask but haven’t dared.”

  “You’ve never dated?”

  “Oh, I’ve dated. Many times. I’ve had relationships. All of which have failed. Mostly, I fear, due to my fumbling. My lack of understanding. Seriously, I don’t get it. Screw physics and the Big Bang theory, the great imponderable isn’t God, it’s women. Who are you people? The books are useless. Believe me, I’ve read them. Everything from Men are from Mars to Dr. Phil. And I still don’t get you.

  “Every time I think I’ve figured you out, I’m totally thrown for a loop. Take Tamara. Great gal, an incredible dancer. I was crazy about her, and she swore she loved me. We lived together for two blissful years. So what happened? Right after I proposed, and we’re talking days here, she moved in with a drug addict who beat her for a hobby. And she’s just the tip of the iceberg. I ask other men, and they either throw up their hands or give me advice that lands me in the doghouse. It’s nuts, and it’s crazy, and dammit, what I want is to once and for all get it.”

  Jessica heard what he said. She was a little taken aback by his earnestness and enthusiasm, and completely certain this wasn’t going to work at all.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t make up your mind yet. Please.”

  “I just don’t think—”

  “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but really, it’s not. It’s like a research project. An in-depth study. Think of me as an anthropologist. It won’t be scary, I promise. And I won’t use the information to hurt you or anyone else. But come on. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’d never get this kind of access. In real life, I’d be too afraid to ruin a relationship. Or if I paid for it, I’d never really be sure I was getting the real juice, you know? But this way, when we both can win, and there’s no feelings to hurt or wound, then, well…

  “Not to be immodest, but I think I can convince your boss or anyone else that I’m your man. I won’t embarrass you. I know my way around the press, and I won’t cost you a penny. All you have to do is answer me honestly. If you don’t know the answers, great. No sweat. But if you do know, then I want them. No political correctness. No shading or hedging. Just what’s what.”

  “What’s what, huh? Well, I know one thing.”

  “Go on.”

  “I need a much stronger drink.”

  Dan held his grin steady, and made sure not to look too satisfied. She was gonna go for it. A minute ago he’d thought all was lost, but now? She was intrigued. From what Glen had told him about her, he’d hoped she’d be curious. “What kind of stronger drink?”

  “A whiskey sour, please. Make it a double.”

  “Good choice.” He signaled the bartender again, and while he waited his turn he took his time looking her over. He’d been so busy studying her body language that he hadn’t properly appreciated her body.

  She was little, but not girlish. In fact, if he’d had to describe her, the word that would fit the bill was vamp. Sort of a throwback to an older age, Rita Hayworth, say, or Veronica Lake. The red hair had something to do with it, maybe the soft way it curled on her neck, or the swoop over her right eyebrow. Her lips, too, seemed naturally full, not collagen-injected like so many of the tonier crowd. And if they had been helped? Who cares. She was lush and her skin seemed silky, and the intelligence so clear in those blue eyes made him want to start his week tonight.

  Not that he was going to actively pursue more than his stated objective.

  “What’ll it be?”

  He started at the bartender’s voice, ordered her drink, and himself a single-malt scotch, neat. When he turned back to Jessica, she pushed her hair back behind her left ear. Her hand, neat, tiny, feminine, captured his gaze and held it. He watched as she put her fingers around her wineglass. Rubbed the rim lightly.

  Okay, so maybe he would pursue something more. Hadn’t Glen said she’d been solo for quite some time? Hadn’t he himself been entirely too celibate for longer than was healthy?

  “Dan?”

  “Yes?”

  “What are you going to do with this information, assuming you get it?”

  “Use it.”

  “For a book? A degree?”

&nb
sp; He shook his head. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I wouldn’t rule out the idea. Actually, I’m doing this for my own personal edification.”

  “Meaning you’re looking for a wife?”

  “Wife, lover, significant other. Yeah.”

  “I’d think women would be banging down your door.”

  “Not the problem. Quality is the issue. I’m looking for what my parents had. Which, in my naiveté as a young man, I figured all parents had.”

  “A good relationship?”

  “Much more than that. My folks were, and you’ll pardon the cliché, two halves of the same whole. They were married thirty-nine years, and were more crazy about each other when my father died than the day they met. That’s what I want. A partner. A best friend. All of it.”

  “Tall order.”

  “Don’t I know it. Hence, the quest.”

  She gave him a half smile. “I’ve never been part of anybody’s quest before.”

  The drinks arrived right then, and Dan handed the whiskey to Jessica. “So you’ll do it?”

  She took the glass, sipped, closed her eyes, opened them again. “I’ll do it.”

  He toasted her, the clink ringing clearly against all the muddled noise around them. “Fantastic.” He brought his own drink to his lips, then hesitated. “So when do we begin?”

  “Monday.”

  “The Willows?”

  She nodded.

  “Great. I’ll check in that afternoon.”

  Jessica’s eyes widened. “Whoa, cowboy. Check in?”

  He downed his scotch, ready for this. “Well, sure.”

  “No, no, no. You’re not staying there. Just appearing when needed.”

  He gave Jessica his most innocent, sincere smile. “That would be a royal pain in the ass for both of us. Much simpler to be there. But don’t worry. You have nothing to fear. I know the suites there and I’ll sleep on the couch.”