“I Google him. And I study his profile. Hugh had great pictures of himself with other girls.”
“Wait, this guy shares pictures of his ex-girlfriends?” he asked with a heavy dose of What-the-hell in his tone.
“No. Shots of his friends who happen to be girls. I looked at the ones Hugh posted and thought maybe I could become friends with those girls.”
“You haven’t even met the guy and you’re trying to figure out if you’ll like his friends?” Jared glanced out the window. He felt as if he’d walked into an alternate universe grounded in strange dating rules. But no, same bright summer evening sky.
“I avoid guys who don’t share shots of themselves with women. And the ones who post mirror selfies of their abs.”
“Too-self absorbed?”
“They don’t pass the creep test.”
Jared stared at her. He went out with women without knowing their last name, what kind of pictures they posted online, or their hopes and dreams for the future. Hell, he’d slept with some of them. “Do you run background checks?” he asked.
“No.” She ran her finger over the edge of her water glass. “I’m not interested in their credit scores. And I’m not planning to hire them.”
“Are you sure about that? Because it sounds like you do more homework for a first date than my HR group does for a potential employee.”
She met his gaze, but she didn’t smile. Not even a hint of amusement in her blue eyes. “I don’t want to waste my time. But a first date isn’t a job interview. It’s an opportunity to find that spark, that connection that draws one person to another and leaves you wanting to know more. What a man does for a living, his job history, none of that matters if I feel that hint of magic. A pull that I can’t ignore.”
He could feign understanding in a heartbeat. He’d learned to pretend at the negotiating table. But what the hell was she talking about? The no selfies rule, the creep test—all of that made sense. But then a guy had to walk into a blind date and deliver magic?
“Lucy, I believe in high standards. But expecting fireworks on the first date? You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
She laughed. The sound was a loud, low rumble that seemed at odds with her delicate features. “Dating is one big disappointment parade. I think tonight proves that.” Then her humor faded and she looked up. Her blue eyes held his gaze. “But I keep hoping.”
A jaded princess hoping for magic. He should have turned down the juice and headed back to his Tequila-for-one dinner plan. Toss in a little work when he got home and his night would have been complete. But no, he’d wanted to help. And now he didn’t know what to say. Lucy was searching for a fairy tale even when she knew the failure rate worked against her.
“You have more than enough to keep my brother from rushing over here.” She stood and carried her water glass she’d barely touched to the sink.
“I’ll keep him in check,” he promised. It didn’t sound like enough. He wanted to leave Lucy with something more. But he stood and chucked his crushed, empty juice box to the trash. He’d done his good deed, rescuing Finn’s sister and bringing her home. She would work out the rest on her own.
And lose her faith in love-at-first sight, or whatever else she thought would spark over a shared bowl of guacamole. One day, reality would crush her hopes and dreams. He would step in and help her brother pick up the pieces, but that’s where he drew the line. He couldn’t get involved.
I sure as hell can’t deliver magic.
Chapter 3
How did he make drinking a juice box look sexy?
Lucy grabbed her water and headed for the office. The house felt strangely silent with her friends still out. Inside the familiar pale-pink walls, she sank onto a loveseat. While the walls and the framed pictures from past parties screamed “girly,” the loveseat placed opposite two balloon-back chairs spoke to the Victorian Era.
I should have served his drink in here, she thought. He wouldn’t have stayed so long or asked so many questions.
Of course, she’d blabbered on and on about the woes of meeting strangers through apps and websites. All to a man who probably snapped his fingers and women fought for the chance to share a drink, a meal, even a night with a young, sexy, and ridiculously wealthy man.
“Not probably. Definitely,” she muttered to the empty room. She’d witnessed women rush across crowded bars as if they were ninja warriors on a dating mission, all to meet her brother. And Finn’s net worth didn’t come close to Jared’s billionaire status. Her brother also lacked his business partner’s charm.
Turning to the window, she spotted her friend’s white Honda Civic rolling over the narrow driveway to the parking area in the rear of the rental house. Justin Timberlake’s ode to dance blasted from the car.
So much for peace and quiet, she thought as car doors slammed.
“We brought ice cream!” Emma’s voice boomed through the house. Footsteps followed. The Belle look-a-like with her wavy, brown hair and big brown eyes appeared in the doorway, holding a plastic grocery store bag. “Chocolate peanut butter, vanilla, mint
chip.”
“And they’re all for you,” Nicole proclaimed. If the tall woman with mocha skin had an online dating profile, she’d give her Japanese mother credit for her ability to play Mulan in Orlando, where she’d first met Emma and Lucy. And she’d acknowledge her African-American father for her six-month stint on a cruise ship playing Tiana. But Lucy would argue that the way her friend’s face lit up when she chatted with a child was Nicole’s biggest asset regardless of her costume.