“So you’re thinking Lake Murray?”
“You’re right.” He points at me across the desk. “The coast is better. Daisy’s there now. We can bring her onboard to help us. It’ll benefit her business as well. Win-win!”
His suggestion eases my irritation slightly. Daisy is not an obnoxious party planner, and she’s connected to someone I’m very interested in seeing again. “It might be worth a try.”
He pauses and studies me from across the desk. “That’s a sudden switch.”
I’m on my feet again, straightening my suit. “Daisy’s wedding reception last month was quite elegant. She has good taste, and she knows our clients.”
“Excellent. Set up a time for us to meet here in the office. We can hash out all the details, set a date, and get the ball rolling.” He returns to his chair, smiling with satisfaction. “Glad you discovered that girl.”
At the moment, I tend to agree.
Heading back to my office, I slide my phone out of my pocket and send a quick text to Daisy. Need to chat. Miles wants to host a gala in Oceanside. Hoping you’ll join forces.
It doesn’t take long for her to reply. Ooo… a gala. I’m sure you’re thrilled. She includes a string of those small yellow faces that are either laughing or crying.
I ignore her sarcasm. Would your cousin be available? Her floral work is stunning.
As is she.
Gray dots float on the screen, and I’m annoyed by the tension in my shoulders. It’s unprofessional, and I never pursue women I can’t predict.
Perhaps this is a bad idea.
Daisy’s reply pops up on my screen. I’ll ask her. If it’s a yes, I’ll give you her number.
The tension in my shoulders releases at once, which should be another red flag. I ignore it. Thanks. Let me know. Miles would like you to come to the office.
Another pause. More gray dots. I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon. Should know about Sly then as well.
Sly. I prefer the name Joselyn, but I’m intrigued by her nickname. I want to know how she got it. Maybe she can tell me as I trace my tongue along the curve of her full breasts, as I cup them in my hands and roll her tight nipples between my fingers. The fantasy rouses my cock, and I slide a hand down the front of my pants.
One way to handle this. I’ll ask her to dinner, take her home, and fuck this itch out of my system. Then we can take care of the gala and my life can return to normal.
I don’t do trouble, and I don’t do relationships.
Passing the gold-framed antique mirror in the long hallway, I inspect my designer suit and straighten my silk tie. My beard is close and my hair is artfully messy. Everything in my life is controlled, including the females with whom I choose to interact.
It’s a good plan. Balance restored.
Chapter 3
Joselyn
“It’s happening.” My throat is tight as I clutch my phone to my ear. I’m breathless, and I tell myself it’s anticipation, not dread. “He’s going to propose.”
“Is that really what you want?” Daisy’s hesitant tone frustrates me.
“God, is it so hard for you to just be happy for me?”
“Is it so hard for you not to act like a fifteen-year-old on her period?”
My cousin is one of the few people in my life not bothered by my strong personality. She’ll also call me on my shit.
“It’s what I’ve been waiting for, Daisy. Yes, it’s what I want.”
“Well, he’s definitely got you where he wants you.” She still doesn’t sound happy for me. “You’ve given up half your clients, moved in with him—”
“I wanted to move in with him. His place is gorgeous, and I’m there if he has a spasm in the night.”
“You were just building your client list. Now you’re his personal nurse. Next, you’ll be his wife. Then you’ll have nothing of your own at all.”
I’m quiet, because she’s right. Elliot made me give up all my male clients when we got together. He said I could only work with females if he and I were to be a couple.
Daisy went off when she found out, and while I agree it’s silly for him to be jealous, I can see his side of it.
Massage therapy requires the utmost professionalism, and while I never, ever give any hint of impropriety, I know a few of my old male clients wouldn’t have minded a bonus cock-rub.
“Elliot is my primary client because it helps him. He takes good care of me.”
“He’s your only client.”
“That’s not true. I have others.”
I hope she doesn’t ask how many, because she’s right. I’ve got Elliot and about two other women who call me occasionally.
I met Elliot when I was just getting started. I finished my training in sports medicine and massage therapy at Palmetto college, went around to all the offices downtown and left my card, set up some Groupons. He messaged me back in a day.
Then I met him, and he was so fine. Golden-brown hair, blue eyes… He’s not tall, but his body is amazing—all hard muscles and a tight ass honed by years on the baseball field.
A back injury forced him into retirement early, and he went to work with his dad in waste management. Sitting behind a desk all day aggravated his injury, which is how I got my hands on that body. He asked me to dinner, and yadda yadda yadda… three weeks later, I moved in with him.
It was pretty great at first, but now, that same old injury is the excuse he gives for why we haven’t had sex in three months.
Three months is a long, damn time.
I haven’t dared tell Daisy.
“Weren’t you just fighting last week? What makes you think he’s going to propose?”
I swallow the tightness in my throat. “I accidentally opened his credit card bill, and I saw a huge charge at Jared’s.”
“Hold the phone. Snooping in his mail is a big red flag. Also, seriously? What kind of engagement rings do they have at Jared’s?”
Damn Daisy.
“Nice ones!” I match her tone, and she blows air into my ear. I shake my head. “I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you after he proposes. Or better yet, I’ll send you a photo of my gorgeous new ring. Then I’ll accept your apology.”
“Hang on, don’t hang up.” Her tone softens. “I’m worried about you, cuz. I want you to be with someone who deserves you. Someone who’s going to make you happy.”
“Elliot makes me happy.” My voice cracks, and anxiety flashes in my chest. I choose to ignore it. “I’ll call you later.”
“Love you, bitch.”
“Love you more.”
The sun is setting through the high-rises, and I shove my phone in the side pocket of my black yoga pants. I’m wearing a sports bra and tank, because I did a mini spa day in anticipation of tonight. I got a body scrub, bikini wax, facial, and of course, a fresh mani-pedi so when I post pictures on social media, my hands will look perfect.
Pushing through the glass doors, I smile and wave at Eric the doorman. He’s on the phone, and he seems startled to see me.
I hope I’m not spoiling any surprises as I skip into the gleaming elevator and hit the PH button, swiping my door card over the keypad.