“You think he’s toying with me.” Lucy met her friend’s gaze. They’d bypassed teasing about fairies and champagne. “He’s back in Florida and looking for a distraction.”
“I don’t think he would intentionally hurt you,” Emma said slowly. “He respects your brother.”
“But if I share a juice with him and then wake up one morning a month from now and discover he’s leaving mixed berry boxes on someone else’s porch, I’ll be crushed.”
“All joking aside, he plays in a different league, Lucy. Look at the way he pounces from one deal to the next,” Emma said.
And one girlfriend to the next.
“You’re right.” Lucy glanced at the pantry. Four early morning deliveries hid behind the sugar. And she suspected he’d personally dropped off each one. She doubted he’d trust one of his employees to swing by her house before dawn and leave a child’s drink with a handwritten note inviting her join him for a box.
If she agreed, he’d deliver fireworks on their first date. After the way he’d drawn her close at the Morgan party, she knew his kiss would be magical from start to finish. There was no doubt that Jared Mitchell checked a handful of boxes on her mental list.
But does he want to get to know me? Not as his friend’s little sister, or the party princess, but as the woman drowning in hope that she will find her happy-ever-after. Even though I have every reason not to believe in love.
“Of course, I’m right.” Emma held out her hand again and wiggled her fingers. “Now hand over your phone so I can get to work on your dating profiles. We need to find a guy that will help you forget all about Jared Mitchell.”
Impossible.
But she handed over her phone. “Just so we’re clear, I still want a man drawn to the idea of wild sex.”
Emma didn’t look up from the screen as she typed. “Looking for a gorgeous man who wants to have shower sex with me every day for the rest of his life.” She glanced up. “If we publish this, I bet every guy in south Florida looking to hook up for a night or two will contact you. We need to get creative. Subtly reference that your dream date needs to deliver in the bedroom.”
“But before the clothes come off, I want to see his true colors. Kind, smart, funny.” Lucy stood and headed for the fridge. “I’ll break out the bubbly and make mimosas. We can sip while you write.”
An hour later, Lucy’s finger hovered over the publish button. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“No, I’m pretty certain there are laws about creating a dating profile while under the influence.” Emma was sprawled across the loveseat. Her head rested on the arm, and her legs dangled over the opposite edge. She twirled a champagne flute between her fingers. “But as your dating advisor—”
“My what?” Lucy reached for her glass and drained the last of the bubbly drink.
“I feel this profile makes what you’re looking for abundantly clear,” Emma continued.
Lucy frowned. “Fifteen minutes ago, you said I sounded like a sex addict who hates men.”
“We fixed that part.” Emma swung her legs down. “Go ahead and send it out to the world. You’ll see. Your prince will come. And he’ll show up ready to make your dreams a reality.”
“Or I’ll find myself eating dinner in Minny’s kitchen five nights a week to escape my future dates,” Lucy said dryly, her finger still hovering over the publish button.
“There are worst fates than free tacos and fresh guacamole.”
Lucy lowered her phone and met her friend’s gaze. “Don’t you ever wonder how all this became so hard?”
“You mean dating?”
Lucy nodded.
Emma swirled her remaining bubbly. The mixed berry juice gave the drink a surreal purple color. “Honestly?” Her friend looked up from her drink. “When Barrett broke your heart and shattered your trust. Your ex opened your eyes to the fact that even the ones we think we know can’t be trusted.”
“So dating is a piece of cake for you.”
“No.” Emma returned her gaze to her drink. “But my heartbreak is not as fresh. And it helps that I don’t want the same things you want. Except for the shower sex. I want that. Once you find the love of your life, maybe I’ll take your billionaire for a test drive.”
No. He’s mine.
She silenced the thought. He wasn’t hers. She didn’t want the playboy.
“I’m kidding, Lucy.”