CHAPTER 10
Scott sat at his desk, fixated on the previous night with Doc. He’d kissed her twice now, and both times he’d had to force himself to stop. Kissing her had not been a part of the assignment, so he had only himself to blame.
A gentle knock on his office door pulled him back to the present. He glanced up. Ms. Birdie stood there, her presence as commanding as it was unexpected. “Twice in one week. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” Scott rose to greet her.
“I’ve stopped by to invite Luxury and you to a lovely event I’m hosting tomorrow evening.” She handed him an invitation. “I understand your last flirtation lesson will occur tonight, and then she’ll be thrown into the dating segment of Frankie’s mad plan.”
“Which means I won’t be at liberty to bring her to your party.” He opened the invitation and scanned the contents:
The Flirtation Gala
A Night Where the Art of Conversation and Unspoken Words Intersect
Date: Friday, May 24th
Time: 9:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m.
Location: Revealed upon RSVP
“Not to worry. She will receive her own invitation. This one was solely for you,” Ms. Birdie explained.
“Is Frankie aware of your event? She’s given me an agenda, and a Flirtation Gala is not on there. According to Dragon Lady, I’m to set Doc up on a blind date tomorrow evening…unless she surprises us and lands a date tonight during her lesson.”
“Frankie knows of my invitation…and has signed off.”
“I thought you weren’t in a position to question her decisions for the first year of her employment at Naked Runway.”
“Information was brought to my attention which made it necessary for me to get involved.”
Scott groaned. “Don’t tell me. She had the whole thing somehow rigged?”
“The party will help me achieve both my goals.”
Her goal for him was that he’d win the arrangement. “You haven’t hired someone to pretend insta-love for her? I won’t stand for that. I don’t cheat.”
“I should box your ears for suggesting I would.”
“My apologies.”
“For your information, I’ve invited a number of men whom I believe will provide Luxury with the perfect opportunity to find herself a rakish gentleman—that she’ll like—whose heart is free to be stolen over the remaining days of your arrangement.”
“What’s so special about these men that Doc will be attracted to them?”
“They’re genuine yet socially cautious, intelligent but a bit shy, and kind-hearted while being just a tad reserved,” Ms. Birdie replied, her eyes twinkling.
He groaned. “They’re beige?”
Ms. Birdie marched across the carpet and stopped in front of his desk and wagged a finger at him. “Do not put words in my mouth, young man. The men I’ve invited are not everyday beige.”
“Aren’t they?”
“Just because they’re the exact opposite of macho doesn’t make them boring. They all possess successful careers, are good looking, and are well bred. Terms I’d use to describe you, as well.”
“What you didn’t say was they are risk takers, ladies’ men, and damn good at pleasuring a woman.”
“As I told Frankie when I dropped off her invitation,” Ms. Birdie said, showing no signs of being perturbed by his comment. If anything, her eyes were twinkling. “They are rakes in the rough.”
Realization struck him. “You’re coaching them. They’re part of your latest fairy godmother project. The gentleman you’ve invited are men who wish to become rake-like. They are part of the program you asked me to consider spearheading.” That had been the second thing she wanted to discuss with him when he’d met her for coffee. She’d asked him to take over the program.
“Not that it’s any of your business since you declined my offer, but they are. And much like our dear Luxury—who was a vixen in the rough until your Glam Team got ahold of her—they are rakes in the rough. But once I’ve helped them strengthen their confidence, they will shed their outer shell of cinnamon roll heroes and become full-fledged rakes…with hearts. I think the young crowd call them alpha-roll heroes.”
Scott groaned. “You”re either a rake or you’re not.”
Ms. Birdie gave him an amused look. “If you can teach Lux how to be a vixen, I can teach gentleman how to become rakes.”
That was the second time she’d referred to Doc as a vixen. He hadn’t liked it the first time, and he didn’t like it now. Vixens were fine for fun and games, but that wasn’t Doc. She wasn’t a fluff girl. She had much more substance than that. His goal was to teach her how to capture the attention of a man so she could then let him see her substance. His goal was not to take away what made her special.
Then again, none of this was about what he wanted. Because if it were, he would have dragged her to the nearest hotel room and told her last night to shut the fuck up and take his dick in her mouth like a good little girl. She wouldn’t be able to joke about his penis falling off once she developed an appreciation for it. “Why not just let her chase a real rake? Where is the fun in catching the heart of a wannabe?”
“Our Luxury is a woman who wants to be loved for her brain by a man who will love her when her beauty fades and her body wrinkles…thus the type of man I’ve invited to my gala.”
Doc had been busy hiding her beauty in the hopes of gaining forever love. Interesting. Now it made sense why she’d used the blandest picture ever for her profile picture on the dating app. “She doesn’t believe true love can happen with a man like me.” He said the words more to himself than to Ms. Birdie, but she gave him a speculative look as if she’d picked up on something in his voice and misinterpreted it as telling.
“If I do my job right,” Ms. Birdie said before he could set her straight, “Lux will get the best of both types…Good Guy blended with Bad Boy. And he will get Girl Next Door blended with Vixen. It will be a win-win for both of them.”
That sounded nice. A guy who fell in love with that combination of woman would be lucky indeed. Too bad he didn’t have enough of the good guy part to be a perfect match for a woman like Doc. Not to mention the damn curse. It prevented him from giving his heart to any woman. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“The best part is no one has to end up with a broken heart at the end of Frankie’s ‘How to Win a Rake in Eight Days’ campaign.”
Scott sat with the knowledge Doc’s heart might soon belong to another. To one of the men who would be at Ms. Birdie’s gala. Men who were, for all intents and purposes, his opposite. They were the kind who’d never suggest incorporating kink in the bedroom.
They were the kind of man who could make Doc happy.
Or could they?
More than likely, yes. After all, she’d all but admitted last night she’d never been fucked by a real man. A fake rake would probably seem like a thrill ride to her.
Hell, he’d be doing her a favor if he took her to bed and gave her a taste of what she’d be missing if she settled on a wannabe. Then again, that lesson could work both ways. He could discover what he’d be missing by not being good enough for Doc.
“Well. Don’t just sit there scowling at me,” Ms. Birdie demanded with a smirk. “Say something useful.”
“It makes me happy to know that when she loses the challenge, she’ll have at least found love with someone she can love back.” The words rolled off his tongue like he told them to, but his brain gagged at the sincerity he had managed to infuse into his tone. Why his brain hated the idea, he couldn’t pin down.
“I knew you’d understand once you got over your ego,” Ms. Birdie said, reaching across the desk and patting his hand.
Ego? Was that what was hurting right now? “If one of them falls in love with her,” he muttered more to himself than to Ms. Birdie, “Isabella can spin him as a rake in sheep’s clothing on NR’s online accounts before anyone can say he’s not a rake.”
Ms. Birdie studied him. “That’s exactly what Frankie said once she realized I wouldn’t allow her to cheat.”
Scott snorted. That was what made Ms. Birdie a force to be reckoned with. While she had a heart of gold—spending her own fortune to make wishes come true—she was also a ruthless businessperson. Her attention to detail topnotch.
“And Frankie agreed to play by the rules?” He couldn’t afford to lose this competition on a technicality. Too much was riding on it for him and for others. Doc’s worst-case scenario was having to find a new job. His was ten times worse.
“I’m her boss.” Ms. Birdie glanced around his office. “Is that a penis in a bottle?”
Scott glanced at the glass penis sitting atop the bookshelf in the corner of his office. A gag gift that had been on display on his desk when he’d arrived Tuesday morning. A note had been attached to the tiny statue. Break in case of emergency.
Before he could respond, his intercom beeped. “What?”
“Mr. Landshire, I’m sorry to bother you, but your father is on line three. He says it’s urgent.”
He glanced at Ms. Birdie. “Do you mind?” Urgent for Father could be nothing more than needing to know the answer to a crossword puzzle clue, but still, it could also be something awful.
Ms. Birdie smiled. “I have a party to organize. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
He picked up the phone and waited for Ms. Birdie to shut his door before he replied to Char. “Put him through.”
His phone rang. “Your Majesty, to what do I owe the pleasure of a phone call from you in the middle of the day?”
“There is no pleasure to be had in this call,” the King of Shiretopia blustered. “In fact, it pains me greatly to have been placed in a position where this call could not be avoided.”
Scott thrummed the fingers of his free hand on his desk. He knew this tone of voice. It was usually reserved for when Mildred insisted Father discipline Scott for a misdeed that Father did not find as loathsome as his second wife did. “I’m sorry to hear that, Father. What business is at hand that has you so uncharacteristically disgruntled?”
“It’s a private matter that I do not wish to broach over the phone. As such, I will be in New York, New York on Saturday to discuss it with you.”
Scott grinned at the way Father insisted on referring to Manhattan as New York, New York. “Father, I’m in the middle of a big assignment with the magazine. I’m afraid this weekend is not an option. Perhaps early June would be a better time for you to visit.”
“Change your plans,” Father ordered. “This cannot wait. Hell, it may not wait until Saturday. We will talk more when I arrive. Good day.”
Before Scott could offer a rebuttal, the phone went dead. Unease had him picking up his cell and calling his best friend, Mark, who still lived in Shiretopia. It went straight to voicemail. “Bloody hell,” Scott muttered. He disconnected and called Mark’s soon-to-be fiancée, Rose. It went straight to voicemail. He hung up and texted them both.
Father is coming to town. Are there any new developments I should be made aware of before he lands?—Scott
The three of them were walking a tightrope. One wrong move could spell disaster and become a bigger scandal even than the time Father had thumbed his nose at his fate and instead eloped with Mum. Rose was Mark’s future bride, all right…if all went according to plan.
If not, she was Scott’s bride-to be, via an arranged marriage.
He really needed things to go according to plan.