CHAPTER 9
Scott’s gaze shifted from the crowd—now dissipated and going back to their business—to Doc, her blunder about ‘going down’ echoing in his mind. He couldn’t help but worry what would unfold for her when she didn’t succeed. While he had all the faith in the world in Ms. Birdie, even that darling busybody would have trouble helping Doc find employment at a university comparable to Columbia, given Doc’s current reputation.
“What?” The profound disdain in Doc’s deep green eyes as she stared back at him—eyes reminiscent of the finest emeralds, a stone as luxurious and captivating as her namesake suggested—made him wish for the freedom to reveal the truth about his exaggerated Manhattan reputation.
“What, what?” he asked, stalling while he continued to ruminate about the conundrum of a woman before him. Doc had more depth and facets than he’d originally given her credit for. This beauty was not a one-dimensional psychologist caricature. Not even a two-dimensional one. Hell, she might have more dimensions than all those in the establishment combined.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there, the memory of their first kiss still vivid in his mind. The way her lips had responded, both urgent and soft, left him craving another.
Doc shifted, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. “Why are you staring? Do I have something on my face?” She reached up to touch her lips, now bare of their earlier glossy sheen.
“We can mark kissing lessons off the list of things I need to teach you to get the man of your dreams,” he replied, deciding it was time to get on task.
“Kissing—check.” Doc fidgeted slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching into an awkward smile. “I guess I’m not a complete disaster after all.”
The vulnerability in her voice tugged at him. He wasn’t used to being around women who weren’t extremely confident in their sexual prowess. “Not a disaster,” he agreed.
Her cheeks turned red, and the sight wrenched at something in his chest as well. Hell, if he wasn’t careful, he would become completely mesmerized by the woman.
“What’s next on Frankie’s list of techniques for you to teach me? Or have I just graduated early from the Scott Landshire School of Romance?” Her attempt at humor was a clear effort to mask her unease.
“It’s not on the list, but we could add a lesson on inviting a man to go down on you.” As he floated his outlandish suggestion, he watched Doc closely, not just for amusement but also to gauge her response. It was a test of sorts—he knew the dating world could be crude, and he wanted to see if she could handle herself against such bold advances. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself.
Doc opened her mouth as if to retort, then seemed to think better of it, closing it again with an audible click.
“Did you want to say something?” he asked.
“Um.” After a brief pause, she continued, her voice tinged with a mix of humor and nervousness. “I think I’ll pass on that particular lesson. But thanks.” Her fingers nervously toyed with the bracelet on her wrist. A clear sign she wasn’t as blasé as she’d like him to believe. “Let’s stick to the topics Frankie chose from your list of so many.”
He chuckled. She must have gotten a good night’s sleep last night, because she wasn’t as easy to rattle as she had been on Monday. It was a small, yet significant, revelation about her character. She would be able to hold her own in their upcoming adventure.
A waitress stopped at the table. “What can I get for you two to drink tonight?”
“Whiskey on the rocks for me, please,” he said, his voice carrying over the ambient noise of the bar.
The trendy-looking server turned to Doc, who paused for a moment before replying. “I’ll just have water, thanks.”
“Water?” Scott remarked, flashing a teasing smile at Doc. “We’ll have to get you to be a bit more adventurous.”
The server grinned, adding, “One whiskey on the rocks and one adventurous water, coming right up.” Her eyes lingered on Doc for a moment, a genuine admiration in her gaze. “By the way, I absolutely love your new look, Dr. Stone. It’s stunning. I’m on Team Doc all the way.” With a supportive smile, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Scott studied Doc for a moment, fully taking in her transformation. “She’s right, you know. The Glam Team have really outdone themselves. You look fabulous.” He waited for a smile, some acknowledgment of the compliment, but her expression remained unreadable, puzzling him. Clearing his throat, he moved on. “My first assignment is to teach you pickup lines that work. They are key for landing the attention of a rake. And you can’t steal his heart, until you steal his attention,” he said. “Tell me, Doc, what is your go-to pickup line?”
Doc hesitated, her eyes darting around the room as if to make sure no one was listening. “Uh, how about, ‘Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile?’”
“That’s charming, but a smidge too wholesome for our target audience,” he replied. “We need something with more of an edge to catch a rake’s attention, don’t you think?”
“Rakes aren’t really a thing in Manhattan, are they?” she asked. “I mean, I get it. You’re a rake because of the nickname your mom gave you, but Manhattan is not Shiretopia. We’ve evolved from the Victorian age of rakes and scoundrels and rogues,” she continued. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to set my sights on the heart of a college professor. Someone I can see myself falling in love with in return.”
A college professor would be much easier to accomplish in the short amount of time they had. “I’m afraid that won’t work. Frankie said rake, so rake it will be.” Why was there a part of him glad to be able to give that answer? Was it because he didn’t want her to find true love as a result of their time together?
She rolled her eyes. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with the heart of a rake?”
There was that disdain again, only this time in her voice, not her eyes. “I suggest you try loving him back,” he said gruffly. “You might find he’s a lot more appealing as a forever person than settling for the male equivalent of that glass of water you ordered.”
“The very idea of entrusting my heart to a rake is repulsive.” Her voice was sharp, each word an authentication to the depth of her aversion to men like him. “They’re nothing but heartbreakers, trading in their partners for newer models without a second thought. “Just like my fa—.”
Where was the romantic he’d assumed beat inside? “Just because a rake has enjoyed his freedom and broken a few hearts in the process, does not mean he’s not lovable once he’s admitted his feelings,” Scott argued.
“Doesn’t it?”
If he’d had any doubts before then, her scathing reply left no room for doubt about her position on the idea of falling for a rake. In her opinion, it would be the worst possible outcome to their adventure. And not just because it would mean she’d lost the challenge.
He collected his thoughts before responding. “Not every man who is labeled a rake is in it for the game, or because he can’t settle on one woman. Some men are branded as rakes for reasons far more complex than a simple reluctance to choose.”
“And which are you?” she asked.
As much as he’d love to set her straight, he couldn’t. There was a nondisclosure agreement with his name signed to it back at Naked Runway that kept him from doing so. “Let’s not get sidetracked,” he drawled, forcing a smile to his lips. “Tonight, we’re talking about pickup lines.”
Her nostrils flared slightly. “Why can’t I just say hello?”
“Hello is too plain, too vanilla. Rakes aren’t intrigued by vanilla; they seek something more captivating. You need an arsenal of lines that are engaging, slightly daring, yet not off-putting,” he explained.
“Sounds easy peasy,” she replied, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
He raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar saying. “Not easy, but achievable with the right guidance,” he said confidently. “Let’s try another one. Do you have any more pickup lines?”
She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. “I’m afraid I’m a one-hit wonder in that department. You might have to supply me with a few examples that have worked on you.”
“Let’s see.” He smiled, recalling a memorable encounter. “There was one time when a stunning model from Russia approached me in a bar. She sat down and said, ‘Let’s be nothing tonight, because nothing lasts forever.’”
Doc’s face contorted slightly in a grimace. “And that actually worked on you?”
He chuckled. “Context is everything, but yes, it did. I was more than willing to be her ‘nothing’ for the night.”
“All right, I’ll give it a try. What’s another line I could use?”
He leaned back, a playful smile tugging his lips. “Then there was the time a striking redhead from Texas used this line on me when I sat next to her: ‘Please, let’s keep our distance. You look like the kind of guy I might make a bad decision for.’”
“And did she make that bad decision?”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I prefer to think of it as one she woke up feeling good about.”
Doc let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. I’ll give those two lines a try. But not on you,” she quickly added, as if to set a clear boundary.
Why not him? “You can’t use them on anyone else here, either. They’ve all seen us together. It might skew the results.”
Doc looked as if she might argue but then shrugged. “It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted. I’ll practice them tomorrow evening on some poor unsuspecting gentleman. Who knows, I might get lucky and land a rake right out of the starting block, and you and I can part ways.”
The thought of Doc succeeding and leaving with another man twisted something unexpected inside of him, a feeling he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. An emotion that lingered long past their evening goodbyes.
CHAPTER 10
The next evening, after another session in which the Glam Team transformed her looks, Lux met Scott outside of Naked Runway. Not that he’d noticed her yet—he was on the phone. Day three of their eight-day journey was already here. While she waited for him to finish, she covertly checked him out. Dressed in all black, he was by far the best-looking man she’d ever gone on a date with. Not that tonight was a date, but she had no idea what else to call it.
Laughter spilled out of him as he spoke animatedly. Not the sign of a man who’d quietly started panicking after he realized there was no way he would win their challenge. A conclusion she had assumed he would have come to after realizing last night that she was a water-drinking barfly with no game whatsoever.
He would have had a better shot at winning had he gone along with her idea of her landing a professor-like man instead of a rake. As it was, Scott was a sure loser.
A rake falling for Lux wouldn’t happen. Made over or not, she just wasn’t the type a bad boy fell in love with at first year let alone first sight. The pizzazziest thing about her was her freaking name, and God knew she’d never lived up to its potential.
Well, if not God, Mother knew.
Wearing shades and smiling as he listened to whomever was on the other end of his call, he didn’t appear the least bit unnerved. Quite the opposite. The confidence oozing from his every pore practically shouted he knew something she didn’t. Did Frankie have an ace in the hole for her star reporter? One that would guarantee his win? Like a patsy on the backburner ready to declare love to Lux should the need arise?
The thought caused anger to glob her throat like she’d swallowed an oversized jawbreaker. She tried to clear her throat, and the noise came out sounding like a creature about to attack.
Scott turned at the sound. “Whoa.” His gaze did a slow intake of her…all of her. “I do like a woman in black leather pants and heels,” he said when their gazes finally met again.
“Of course you do,” she said in a weird voice. She cleared her throat again.
“Because you think I’m shallow?” he mused.
When she’d told Isabella that tonight’s lesson would be on pickup lines, the perky blonde had insisted Luxury wear skintight leather pants. “Well, there’s that, and according to Isabella, they are a nonverbal pickup line that work on all men…not just the bottom feeders.”
“She’s not wrong.” Scott pulled at the collar of his turtleneck.
“Really?” Lux said, part incredulous, part not surprised. “They are as cliché as a stripper at a bachelor party.”
His chuckle was all the rise she got out of him. “My intent was for us to walk to our destination, but I dare say your feet are not yet accustomed to those shoes. Shall I hail us a taxi? I gave my driver the evening off.”
That was uncharacteristically aware for a rake. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I need to practice my hip sways.” She’d begged Isabella to provide alternative footwear for tonight’s ensemble, but she’d informed Lux that no fashion icon would be caught pairing Givenchy leather pants and an Isabella P. Chance bodysuit with flats.
“Luckily, Velvet Vice isn’t far from here,” Scott said.
“I’ve never heard of the place.” She fell into step next to him.
“It’s an establishment Frankie chose. I’ve been there a couple of times. The clientele is interesting.”
“How so?” With each step she took, she practiced pushing her hips out left and right.
“Think James Bond meets Dirty Harry.”
“Techie, billionaire badasses meet thuggish, blue-collar badasses,” Lux said sarcastically, and then stumbled when one of her hip punches landed against his body. “No stress there.”
“You’ll do fine.” He held out the crook of his arm.
Lux reluctantly took it. Her mental energy would be better spent on running through her prepared pickup line. “Lay it out for me, Scott. What else is on the agenda prepared by Frankie?”
“She has me spending tonight and tomorrow night being your professor of seduction—”
“That’s a fancy title,” she teased, even as she recalled their kiss. Would there be more lessons in that arena?
“The final three nights will consist of you going on dates.”
“With whom?”
“Hopefully men you’ve won over tonight and tomorrow night.”
“And if there are none?”
“Then I will set you up with rakes I know.”
That wasn’t going to happen, but she’d fight that battle when the time came. “How will I pick up a man if you’re with me on these dates for the next couple of nights?”
“I’ll be there but not beside you. I’ll situate myself to witness your attempts from afar so I can offer you feedback.”
“Be honest, you can’t really believe I’m going to capture a rake as a result of all this?”
“It could happen. I’ve been told rakes are known to fall into insta-love. One day they’re playing the field, the next they are threatening to kick the ass of any man who looks sideways at their woman.”
The term used to describe a certain romance trope caught her attention. “Do you believe in insta-love?” She glanced up at him, wanting to read his expression as she heard his response.
“We can feel other emotions instantly; I don’t see why love should be excluded,” he said with a genuine smile.
“Be still, my heart,” she teased. “A rake who believes not just in love but the instant kind.”
“My parents fell in love at first sight,” he said, somewhat gruffly.
She stopped. “Then the curse has been broken? Why are you perpetuating the myth it hasn’t been? Is it to get sympathy sex?”
“I misspoke. Father wasn’t so much in love as enthralled. To this day, he swears it would have been love if it hadn’t been for the damn curse. But Mum for sure fell the moment they met. And she said enthrallment from Father beat the hell out of love from any other man on the Earth.”
His words gave Lux something to think about. Perhaps instead of searching for love, she should find herself a man who was easily enthralled by a slick makeover and cheesy pickup lines. “How long were they married?” She only knew the part of his history that he’d revealed in his magazine column…which wasn’t a lot.
He began walking again. “They were married a little over thirteen years before her death.”
“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his arm. “Then Queen Mildred of Shiretopia is your stepmother?”
“Could we please move on to a more pleasant topic?” he said tensely.
“One more question.”
“And that is?”
“I know you said we have no spark, but did you feel any instant emotion for me upon first impression?” She would use his answer in next Monday’s show as a follow-up to her one on the importance of second glances. The show that had started this whole fiasco.
“Instant irritability,” he said. “When I first listened to you bash me as a columnist.”
“That’s fair since I felt instant prickliness toward you when I read your January column. But how about when you first saw an image of me?” He was, after all, one of the many men who’d swiped past her profile in under one second.
“Honestly, the first time I saw your image, I was flipping through candidates on the same dating app you were on as part of a work project. You didn’t fit the profile required for the column, so I rejected you.”
Oh. He hadn’t dismissed her as not right for him, but as not right for an assignment. Interesting. “I don’t recall your doing a column on the dating app?”
“That’s because Frankie vetoed the idea when I pitched it to her.”
They stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to turn. “What makes Scott Landshire tick?” Perhaps if she better understood him, she’d be better able to know when he was lying.
“Word to the wise: men do not like a woman who psychoanalyzes them.” His tone was light but with a hint of caution. “I would hazard to guess that’s one of the reasons so many men zipped past your profile image. You were holding that damn cup that shouted, ‘I’m analyzing your ass.’”
Fair enough. “Hazard of the trade,” she said, lightly. “Tell me, are you still irritated by me?”
He looked down at her. “Like you, my irritation has turned to intrigue.”
“What about me intrigues you?”
He gave her a devilish smile that did things to her stomach. “For starters, those pants you’re wearing.”
“Like, who designed them?” she asked. The light changed, and they moved with the other pedestrians.
“More like, what are you wearing beneath them?”
She frowned, recognizing his response for what it was…his need to reinforce his rake status. And as any good psychologist would do, she blocked the maneuver. Honesty was founded in vulnerability. “Since you’ve taken this conversation to a personal level, have you given any further consideration regarding my prediction about your…um, gentleman’s equipment?” Now might be a good time to put his mind at rest and explain her analysis of the dream.
Scott surprised her by coming to a complete stop—causing rude comments from those who now had to go around them—and gave her a look. One not laced with horror but instead humor. “You mean my penis?” he said, causing a few startled pedestrians to look their way.
She grinned. There was that humor again. She really liked a guy with a sense of one. “I do.”
Scott winked at her and continued to walk. “How does a woman as educated as you buy into the idea that repeating a nightmare before breakfast can make it come true? It’s like believing in the Tooth Fairy, but less fun and more terrifying.”
“The short answer is every proper romantic comedy heroine needs a flaw. That’s mine.”
“And the long answer?”
“I’m observant. Always have been, according to Mother. As such, I noticed patterns. For instance, any time Father left for an overnight trip, Mother would dress up and go out with friends. Or if they fought in the morning, Mother would buy a new expensive bauble and show it to Father as soon as he came home. Anyway, once I mentioned to Mother that I had a dream that one day Father was going to leave and never come home. The very next day, he did just that.”
“You’re a pattern seeker,” Scott said. “I can respect that. But Doc, you do realize that correlation doesn’t always mean causation, right?”
Lux glanced up at him. “Since when did you start using psychology terms? ‘Correlation doesn’t always mean causation’—that’s straight out of my professional playbook.”
A twinkle of mischief lit his brown eyes. “Ever since you tore into my first column on RAKEish, I’ve been tuning in to your show. A guy can’t help but learn a thing or two from that…even if the subject matter can be, well, a bit dry at times,” he finished.
Lux burst out laughing. “Dry? I’ll have you know I strive for the perfect balance of informative and engaging.”
“Oh, it’s engaging, all right,” Scott said. “Especially when I’m trying to figure out how not to become the subject of your next episode’s cautionary tale.”
Lux shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips. “Well, I’m both flattered and surprised. I didn’t peg you as the type to indulge in psychological discussions, especially those that don’t directly revolve around the art of being a rake.”
Scott patted her hands, which were still utilizing his arm for balance. “Let’s just say, you’ve opened my eyes to a whole new perspective. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll surprise you by not being such a rake after all.”
Strangely, the thought of him doing just that pleased her. The only clear reason for her to care was the one that stood out plainly. “If you did that, you would have single-handedly proven my topic from this week’s Monday’s Musings—the importance of giving others second glances.”
Scott suddenly slowed his pace and came to a stop. “We’re here.” He gestured toward a dimly lit establishment.
Lux’s gaze followed his gesture, landing on a faded sign that read ‘Velvet Vice.’ Trepidation rippled through her and sweat formed on her nose. The outside had the whole vice vibe going on with its barred windows and security flanking either side of the door.
If Frankie had sent her here to practice her pickup line, Lux had no doubt it was a bar infamous for its clientele—a haven for the city’s most charming and notorious bad boy bachelors. The kind of place where hearts were won and lost in a single evening.
The kind of place where someone like Luxury Stone would make a fool of herself.
Her earlier confidence wavered. Was she really going to go through with this?
Scott leaned in closer and wiped the sweat from her nose. “Remember, I’ll be here the whole time. We’ll communicate with texts.” His voice was a soft but firm anchor in the night. “You’re not alone in this.”
Lux exhaled hard and mustered the same boldness that had carried her through the days following her first viral skirt-in-the-underwear faux pas. “Okay,” she replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. “Let’s do this.”
“Walk in and head straight to the bar. Have a seat and order a drink. Not water.”
“Why not water?”
“It’s not flirty.”
“Then what?”
“A glass of wine will do.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t try to pick up any man until after I’ve entered and you know where I’m sitting. It will be somewhere within earshot.”
“Why earshot?”
“In case you need help.”
She blinked. “Why would I need help?”
“Because while we’ve talked about your picking up a man in a bar, we’ve not discussed your skill level at turning one down…especially an entitled one not used to the words ‘not interested.’”
“Somehow, I don’t think there will be any rakes kicking up a fuss over my not fancying one of them.”
“Then you don’t understand the power of leather pants on your body,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and stepped toward the entrance of the establishment. As the door swung open, laughter and the clink of glasses spilled out. She stepped into a world where seduction and sincerity were likely as blurred as the drunken vision of the patrons.
Lux nodded at the bouncer who stood just inside the door. She glanced around to get her bearings as she showed the burly man her identification. The bar’s atmosphere was an intoxicating blend of smooth jazz and subdued conversations. Even so, it did little to steady her jittery anticipation. Tonight was about practicing her pickup lines—a simple task in theory but daunting.
As she carefully made her way to the bar, her attempt at a graceful entrance was slightly marred by an untimely stumble over someone’s misplaced foot. She recovered with a quick, embarrassed smile, hoping the dim lighting hid her blush. Lux found an empty stool at the bar—and awkwardly clambered onto it, trying to look nonchalant and pretty sure she only partially succeeded.
Settling in, she took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings, quickly realizing she was a novice among experts. Every man in the room oozed composed confidence. And the women wore sophistication like she wore sweats on the weekend.
When a man slid onto the seat next to her, Lux startled so hard, she all but fell off her bar stool. Luckily, his back was to her. Thankful to be so thoroughly ignored, Lux prepared herself for a silent, unnoticed evening.
But then, to her surprise, he turned and spoke to the mixologist behind the counter.
Lux’s heart skipped a beat. This was her opportunity to step into the spotlight, to try out the pickup line she’d been practicing.
He was about to become the first test subject in Lux’s stumbling journey into the art of seduction. One that was meant to land her the heart of a rake but surely wouldn’t. The sooner that could be proven, the sooner she could get back to the life she preferred.
Gathering her courage, Lux cleared her throat to get his attention. “Hello.” This was it—her moment to test one of the lines that Scott had suggested in a column back in March. One he swore worked, but she highly doubted it.
“Do you have a quarter I could borrow for the tampon machine in the ladies room?” she blurted a bit too loudly. The man looked taken aback, his smooth facade momentarily faltering.
That’s when she realized what she’d said. She’d just blurted the line she’d used in a nightmare she’d had once. A nightmare that…now that she thought about it, she’d repeated to her best friend before breakfast a few years back.
“Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow.
Lux pressed on, her cheeks burning. “Sorry. I meant to say, ‘do you have a quarter I could borrow for the condom machine in the lady’s room?’”
There was a brief, excruciating silence. Then, he burst into laughter, not the charmed chuckle Lux had hoped for, but a full-on guffaw that drew the attention of nearby patrons. “That’s good! I mean, it’s terrible, but it’s good,” he managed to say between fits of laughter.
Lux wanted to disappear into the floorboards. Her attempt at seduction had turned into a comedy sketch. She forced a laugh, trying to salvage some dignity.
The man, still chuckling, gave her a friendly pat on the knee. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just…that was unexpectedly hilarious. You’re not really trying to pick me up, are you? Was this some type of dare? Did you lose a bet?”
Lux mustered a smile, acknowledging the absurdity of her attempt. “No dare. Just me trying for the first time to use a pickup line.”
The man nodded, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Keep at it. Maybe leave out the part about a tampon next time.”
As he stood and walked away with his Old Fashioned, Lux let out a sigh of relief mixed with embarrassment. She was just reminding herself to wait for Scott to enter the establishment before trying this again, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
Turning around, she came face-to-face with her nemesis, who had an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. It dawned on her in that moment—he had been there the whole time, a silent observer to her catastrophe.
Scott’s grin was both sympathetic and slightly teasing. “Well, that was…something,” he said, trying to stifle his chuckle. “I must say, I’ve never heard that particular line used on a man.”
“Did you hear…all of it?”
“Every painful word,” Scott confirmed, his tone light but encouraging.
“Hell’s fudging bells,” she muttered, eliciting a chuckle from him, which did nothing to ease her embarrassment.
“But hey, it’s all part of the learning process, right?” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I think you showed a lot of courage pushing through despite the beginning blunder. Not everyone can recover on their feet so quickly.”
Lux managed a small, wry smile, appreciating Scott’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Thanks, I guess. Next time, I’ll stick to hello. Or maybe just a friendly wave from afar.”
Scott’s laughter was warm and infectious, and Lux found herself laughing along, the remnants of her embarrassment melting away. “You know,” Scott said, his eyes twinkling, “there’s something quite charming about a woman who can laugh at herself.”
Lux raised her brows. Did it mean anything that they both found that an attractive quality in a person? “Endearing or not, let’s not forget this is a winner takes all challenge. One of us will be leaving Manhattan when this is all over. And at this rate, I’m really liking my odds.”
Scott leaned in, his expression one of mock seriousness mixed with a hint of playful challenge. “Oh, I wouldn’t count me out just yet. We’ve only just begun, and trust me, I’ve got more than a few tricks in my arsenal. This game is far from over.”
“Tricks? As in plans to cheat?” she snapped, all humor dissipating.
“I swear on Mum’s grave, I’d never resort to cheating to win a bet. Scoundrels cheat. Rakes win fairly.”
Relief flickered inside Lux. She believed him. Which meant he and Frankie weren’t in cahoots. Which meant she was going to win their bet. All the tricks in the world wouldn’t get her to the point a rake found her datable, let alone lovable. “If you say so,” she said cheekily. “But if you ask me, Frankie knew you never stood a chance. She took one look at me and decided I was her ticket to get rid of you.”
Scott’s eyes glimmered with mischief. “Frankie adores me. And though your pickup line flopped, there’s a certain charm in your awkwardness that I plan on exploiting from now on.”
“How, pray tell, can you exploit that in your favor?”
“There are certain men who will find flirting fumbles…enchanting.”
“Just as there are some women who sees a good fixer-upper man, such as yourself, and think to themselves, ‘Ah, a new project.’”
“Like you?” he asked.
“I prefer my men move-in ready.”
“Men?” His voice held a note of something she couldn’t quite define.
If the thought weren’t so ridiculous, she would label it jealousy.
“Have you had several?” he finished.
“Why Prince Landshire, I’m shocked,” she teased. “Are you asking me for my number?”
“What?” he asked.
“It’s not polite to ask a woman how many move-in ready men they’ve said yes to.”
“Humor me anyway.”
“Are we talking about ones that were truly move-in ready—no cleverly disguised wiring issues—or just the grand total? Because, sadly, the first is a far more exclusive club.”
“By all means, tell me the move-in ready number?” Scott replied, his voice lowering, laced with a hint of desire.
Her number would be peanuts compared to his. A number so painfully low, he’d feel sorry for her. “I do not orgasm and tell,” she responded. “To do so would be unladylike.”
He closed the distance between them, his eyes intensely fixed on hers. “That response is too enchanting to go unrewarded.” He leaned in. “May I kiss you?”
“I think you may,” she said, befuddled by the gentlemanly request. Surely, rakes did not go around requesting permission to kiss a woman.
He leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss that was far from brief or playful. One that was definitely rakish.
So rakish it ignited a fire that seemed to consume them both. When he finally pulled back, she was left breathless, her mind reeling.
“Doc, should you ever need a man who is wired correctly in all the right places, I’m at your service.”
Lux, still spinning from the kiss, somehow managed a coherent thought which should have led to a coherent response. But didn’t. “I just may take you up on that eventually.”
“I await the day.”
She started to reply, but he held up a finger. “There’s no rush. For now, I’m going to leave without you, which will leave every man in here curious as to why you didn’t go with me. Then, in three minutes, you should leave and there will be a black sedan waiting to take you home.”
“Got it.”
He pushed her hair off her face. “And Doc, don’t let anyone else charm you on your way out. If they didn’t flock to your side the moment you arrived, they don’t deserve you.”
With those sweet words, Scott sauntered away, leaving Lux standing there wondering what sex with the Prince of Shiretopia would be like.
Dare she call his bluff?