CHAPTER 8
Tuesday evening, the new and cosmetically improved Luxury Stone sat nursing a glass of water at the bustling bar inside newly opened Manhattan Mingles while waiting on Scott. He was supposed to have met her outside the doors but had sent a text saying he was running late. While she would have preferred to have entered the bar together, her damn shoes were not made for standing around, so she’d sucked it up and walked in alone.
Stilettos were sitting shoes if ever God had made sitting shoes.
She’d give Scott five more minutes. If he couldn’t bother to show by then, she would ditch this joint, go home, shower, and do a reset back to Monday’s Lux, Frankie be damned.
The magazine’s editor-in-chief had stopped by to see Lux’s transformation. After several seconds of eyeballing Lux, Frankie had shrugged and told the Glam Team—anxiously awaiting her accolades—‘it will do.’
Then Frankie had told Lux where to meet Scott for their first official ‘fix-the-queen-of-dud-dating’ dates. This followed by an evil-eye reminder to Lux that Naked Runway had spies everywhere. If either Lux or Scott showed any sign of not giving their everything to the challenge, Frankie would declare them both losers.
Lux glanced at her watch. His five minutes were up. She stood and turned toward the exit. That’s when she spotted the back of Scott’s dark head. “It’s about freaking time.” She stayed in place and waited for him to spy her in the crowd.
Only he put zero effort into finding her. He was too busy talking and posing for pictures with women. When he took a black marker from a brunette and signed her flat stomach, Lux had had enough. Taking a breath of bravery, she exhaled and carefully heel-toed her way toward him, her new heels clicking against the polished floor of the upscale Manhattan bar.
The lesson in stiletto-walking had been an interesting one that had lasted two hours. In the end, she’d mastered the proper foot strike and had learned the art of placing each step in a straight line instead of allowing them to fall on two different pathways.
The extra hip movement…not so much.
The big reveal of the new her had come after Lux had successfully walked an imagined red carpet where at the end had been placed a shrouded, full-length mirror. Ziggy had stripped away the cover in a dramatic fashion and when Lux saw the new her, she’d cried.
Which had resulted in Isabella crying and Ziggy fussing at Lux not to ruin her makeup.
Mother had been wrong when she’d told Lux to work on her personality because she didn’t have the face to keep a man long term. The face that had stared back at Lux in the mirror had been transformed from ordinary to extraordinary. It was truly amazing what could be accomplished with makeup.
Ziggy had played to the strength of her emerald-green eyes, intensifying their hue with carefully chosen shadows and liners. As he’d explained while he worked, the colors he selected were not just complementary, but were chosen from the palette of her irises, which deepened the green to a richness he called mesmerizing. He’d then framed her eyes with a hint of gold highlight at the corners, which he declared made the green stand out even more against her fair skin, like dew-kissed leaves against the morning light. From there, he’d meticulously brought definition to her cheekbones, creating an interplay of light and shadow that seemed to elevate her entire visage. On her lips, Ziggy had opted for a shade that was a whisper above her natural lip color, a soft, muted hue that enhanced without competing with the dramatic flair of her eyes. It was as if he’d chosen the barest hint of pink found on the inside of a seashell. The application was masterful—a matte finish that spoke of elegance and subtlety, giving her lips a fuller look that was inviting and touchable. This balance of bold and understated was a silent testament to the internal tug-of-war she faced—admiring the artistry, yet questioning the change.
While Mother’s advice had been wrong on so many levels, Lux would still hold out for a man who fell in love with her intellect, her wit, her sheer tenacity any day over one who’d fallen for the enhanced curve of her smile or the sway of her hips.
Even so, Lux would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she loved the way it felt knowing she looked as good as any of those ladies draping themselves all over Scott. How would he react to the new Lux? Would he suddenly find her worthy of his interest, or would he have the same underwhelmed reaction as Frankie?
Almost upon him, Lux glanced down and was immediately distracted by what was surely too much braless cleavage. According to Isabella, bras had now been replaced by a new product on the market called CAKES. Grippy, nonstick nipple covers which were way more comfortable than a bra. Nonetheless, Lux didn’t want Scott to think she was trying too hard.
Hell, she didn’t want him to think she was trying at all.
Deep in thought about what she would do if one of her anti-nippleage thingamajigs decided to ungrip itself from a boob and fall to the floor, she plowed into a warm body that smelled like thunderclouds. Forgetting about her nipples, she searched for a solid surface to grasp for balance. Unfortunately, the movement resulted in the content of her glass going airborne—
Which resulted in an audible chorus of gasps ringing out around her. Then graveyards-on-a-Monday-night silence descended around them. It was either that or the blood roaring in her ears kept her from picking up on things like voices.
After a moment of mind-numbing shock, reality returned. She’d just spilled water on…she glanced up to see who. Hell’s fudging bells. It was him.
Scott growled, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her into his body like a damn caveman, resulting in a shiver of trepidation sweeping through her. But one whiff of his cologne and the fear was replaced by her heartbeat going all swoony wonky.
Swoony! Wonky!Like a Victorian heroine on the verge of a fainting spell. All because a nice smelling thundercloud held her. How pathetic was that?
“It’s been a while since a beautiful woman threw a drink on me,” he said in a voice soft and teasing.
She stiffened. He had no idea who he held in his arms. If he did, no way would he have used that flirty tone. “I most certainly did not throw it,” she said against his chest before pushing out of his arms enough to look up into his eyes. That’s when he comically began the process of realizing the woman in his arms was the same woman who’d turned his smooth existence into one filled with potholes.
“Doc?” he murmured.
“Surprise,” she said.
One second, his expression was a mix of tempered irritation; the next, his features were sliding all over the place as he shifted from one emotion to another.
His eyes, initially narrowed in annoyance, were now wide in sheer disbelief. It was as if his brain was frantically trying to reconcile the woman standing before him—this glamorous, composed figure—with the mental image he had of his known adversary.
About to make another snarky quip, she witnessed a flicker of something else—a brief, involuntary spark of admiration or even attraction. Of course, he suppressed it almost immediately. But she’d seen it—that split second where his defenses dropped and his true reaction slipped through.
His mouth, which had been set in a thin line, parted slightly, as if he were about to speak, only to find himself at a loss for words. The normally poised and confident man appeared momentarily disarmed, thrown off balance by her transformation.
Watching his composed demeanor unravel, even if just for a moment, gave her an unexpected surge of satisfaction. In that instant, she knew that no matter what had transpired between them before, tonight she had the upper hand.
“Doc,” he said roughly.
“Rake,” she said snippily—that was once she remembered to reply at all; the wonky swoony feelings were back. She tried to step away but his hold on her arms kept her from going far.
The cone of silence in the bar evaporated, and voices filled the void as she and Scott locked gazes in an apparent staring contest.
“Is that Dr. Stone?”
“Fuck yes. Wow.”
“Oh, my God, I can’t believe she did that.”
“I can. Dr. Stone is a badass, and he deserves far worse.”
“How do you figure?”
The conversations went on around them as Lux and Scott continued to lock gazes.
“Because of her, his penis is on borrowed time.”
The last shattered Lux’s trance. Would now be a bad time to inquire if all was still well…down there? Not because she wanted to personally know, but to put his fans at ease.
“Serves him right,” someone said. “I heard he’s the one who started the meme of her with the words ‘Nothing to see here.’”
A tiny noise escaped Lux’s lips. God, people were cruel on the internet.
Scott’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t deny it.
“Why would you do that?” someone said.
Tears filled Lux’s eyes, and she rammed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep them at bay.
Horror flashed across his face. “I wouldn’t. I didn’t.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she pushed.
“Of course not.”
She stared stonily at him.
He sighed. “Did you see the one about me standing in a hospital, wearing a hospital gown?” he asked her in a voice loud enough for all to hear.
“I saw that one,” someone responded when she didn’t.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” she finally said.
Scott didn’t break eye contact with Lux. “The one where I was holding a jar that had my penis inside and telling the nurse it was my brain?”
Laughter ensued.
“The ones about you are all in fun,” Lux said, keeping her voice low, swallowing back tears. “No one believes my superstitious prediction. The ones about me, though, are horrid. Everyone thinks I’m frigid because of that damn app and my big mouth.”
He leaned in closer. “No one looking at you right now, Doc, will mistake you for a woman who is frigid.” His eyes held hers, soft and earnest, as if he could chase away any doubts with his gaze alone.
The compliment brought on a fresh desire to cry, and she twitched her nose to ward off the tears.
He stepped back, released her, and gave her the most devilish smile a man had ever bestowed upon her. “What a delightful turn of events,” he said as if they’d not just had a public conversation about memes.
“Delightful in what way?” She snuck a peek at the crowd and quickly surmised why he’d flipped switches. Phones were aimed at them. They were being recorded. Which of them worked for Frankie?
“I’m glad we bumped into each other,” Scott said magnanimously. “I have an idea I wanted to run past you.”
A gawker handed him a napkin, and he used it to wipe at his shirt.
“And that is?” she asked him.
“Listen up, everyone.” He paused and winked at her before continuing. “As you are all aware, Doc here has made it a practice to question my viability as a relationship columnist.”
“And with just cause,” Lux said.
“Seeing Doc in the flesh—when she has obviously already taken a piece of my advice and had an extreme makeover—has given me a wonderful idea. Doc, I propose you go on a series of dates with me—dates in which you will choose a piece of advice that I’ve given in my column over the last nine months, and you will practice it on me. At which time, I will evaluate your delivery of the advice and advise you on how to improve.”
At no time had she agreed to have her game critiqued. “I—”
“If—at the end of those dates—you’re not able to go forth and slay the dating game by capturing the attention of a rake of your choice—something, according to you, you have not been able to do on your own—I will cease to write my column. Which, coincidentally, will result in my visa becoming invalid, and my return to my country imminent.”
This set off a cacophony of conversation.
Was that last bit true? Or had he made it up for the sympathy vote? Knowing him, it was false. But the rumor was out there, and truth very seldom caught up to gossip. Now, if she won and proved his advice was shit, the whole of Manhattan would see her as a villain for sending their favorite prince back to Shiretopia.
“And if I set my sights on you?” she heard herself ask, wanting to say something, anything, to throw him off his high horse.
His jaw tightened. “That would be ill-advised considering, according to you, I will soon be tragically deprived of my glorious penis, to the eternal regret of ladies worldwide.”
Her lips twitched. Well played. Someone had taught him to laugh at himself. Perhaps she should fill him in on the analysis she’d done of her nightmare. Then again, where was the fun in that? “What I’m hearing you say is you only enjoy sex if you get to come.”
“Not at all.” He looked her up and down. His expression not quite discernible. “But, in order for my techniques to work, there must be chemistry between two people. Are you implying you feel a spark, Doc?”
Gah. She’d walked right into this mess. Literally. “As long as you don’t suck at kissing—considering other spark-like things that go on between a couple might soon be off the table for you—I don’t see there being a problem on my side. And you?”
“Doc, has anyone ever told you it’s dangerous to…poke a prince?” His voice rumbled out in a sexy European accent that did something to her knees.
“How dangerous?” She’d meant for that to have been an internal question.
He tugged her into his arms, tilted her chin up, and crashed his lips against hers in a bold, unapologetic kiss that sent a shockwave of heat through her entire body.
Once again, the patrons who were crowded around them faded into a hazy backdrop, the cacophony of voices and clinking glasses and recording devices melting into nothingness as his mouth moved over hers with a surprising tenderness that belied the force of his approach.
At first, she was too stunned to react, but then, instinct took over. Well, not instinct. Instinct said to knee him. Lust was what took over.
She kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his hair, tangling in the short strands as the kiss deepened. The world spun ever so slightly, and she became acutely aware of the heat of his body and the strength in the arms that held her close.
And what a kiss it was. A conundrum of sorts. Part challenge. Part surrender. Like their lips were receiving mixed messages from their brains on rather they should fight or dance.
Vaguely she realized her plans to take him down a notch or two had just taken an unexpected tumble as the startling chemistry zipped through her.
As Lux broke apart from Scott, breathless and with a newfound awareness of the Rake of Manhattan, the noise of the bar rushed back in. Searching his face for signs he’d felt it too, Lux saw a flicker of something like victory.
Crud. While she’d like to be upset at his arrogance, he wasn’t wrong to look smug. She’d underestimated the power of physical chemistry on the heart. If she didn’t proceed with extreme caution, it would be her heart at stake. Not his.
She swallowed her nerves, gathered her poise, and spoke. “All I have to do is go on a series of dates, try your asinine flirting tips on a man of my choosing—one who can hopefully kiss better than that”—definitely not on him—“and, if they fail, then you’ll leave the country, and I’ll never have to see you again? And you won’t whine about it on social media when that happens?”
His cocky smile faltered a degree. “I won’t whine about it. But if you find my tips get you the rake of your choosing, you must agree to admit as much on Naked Runway’s podcast, as well as to your own audience, and allow me permission to document our experiment in my upcoming columns.”
She yanked at the hems of her sleeves, still feeling the ghost of his lips on hers, and stood up straight as the boring arrow she remained despite her makeover. “Your Royal Rakeness, there’s just one thing left to say.”
“And that is?”
“Get ready to go down,” she said, because even a boring arrow had a sharp tip.
Laughter ensued.
Lux glanced around. Why were they laughing at her? Even Scott. “What is so funny?”
Her question caused even more guffawing.
Scott took her by the elbow and led her away from the crowd. Once they were snugly tucked in a nook in the back of the bar, he said, “They’re laughing because you invited me to go down on you.”
Lux replayed her words. Hell’s fudging bells. He was right.
If her dumping her drink on him hadn’t already been viral worthy, her unintended double entendre certainly sealed the deal.
Frankie would be pleased as spiked punch.