Boyfriend for Hire Read online

  Aww, what a wonderful story. “So what kind of wedding do you really want?”

  Camellia slipped a peek at her mom, who was deep in conversation with whoever had called. “Something that is totally Mitchell and me. Neither of us is particularly religious, nor do we like the country club. Maybe something smaller, more intimate and completely romantic.”

  An idea stole over Tawny. A crazy, wonderful, perfect idea for this bride and her soon-to-be groom. She leaned closer, voice low. “What about the Providence Library?”

  Her client sat for a moment, looking down, then up, light filling her eyes in delight. “I love it. It’s a beautiful building, inside and out. I didn’t know they hosted events there. Oh my gosh, it’s totally us.”

  A shadow loomed over the table. Both looked up to see Mrs. DeSalvo standing next to her seat.

  “What, may I ask, is totally you?” Her eyes did that little thing where they open a little wider, yet not a hair in her brows moved. Can you say too much Botox?

  “Mother, you’ll be happy to know I’ve selected a venue.” Camellia grew a backbone and met her mother’s glare head-on. “Mitchell and I are going to get married in the Providence Library. The ceremony and reception will both take place there.”

  The woman’s jaw clenched tight. A vein along the side of her neck throbbed hard and fast. A weaker opponent would have caved then or walked away to let her clients hash it out in private. Not Tawny. She’d been trained by the best—her mom.

  “A library?” She took a sip of her wine, carefully setting the glass down before continuing. A quick shake of her head said it all. “Preposterous. DeSalvos and Cabots do not join in matrimony in public buildings. I don’t know where you got this ridiculous notion, but you’ll get married in the same church as your father and I did. End of discussion.”

  Kerri slid back into her chair, a fragile smile plastered in place as she glanced around the table.

  “You are correct, Mother, the discussion of a venue is over.” Camellia turned to Tawny and Kerri. “Book the library for Saturday, June eighteenth. Now, let’s talk dresses.”

  When you don’t have a moment to breathe, the workweek rolls by in a flash. After their initial client meeting, Kerri appointed Tawny as point person on Camellia, while she took on the momster-of-the-bride. Fine with Tawny, as Mrs. DeSalvo hit too close to the heart. The two mothers were worlds apart in so many ways, yet somehow they both lived in the same mental space, believing their daughters incapable of making intelligent life decisions.

  Tawny pulled up her checklist. Too nervous about the baseball game that afternoon to sit around home and wait, she’d gone into the office. A few hours of busywork to pass the time before she and David would slip into their roles. Maybe she could stage an argument and give them and excuse to break up? Initially the plan of pretending to date for a few weeks sounded easy. What she hadn’t taken into consideration was her coworkers’ admiration for the man.

  Every freaking day someone popped by to ask about him, leave a quick message for him, invite David to some guy event or leave cookies, cakes, and pies for Tawny to deliver to him.

  Thankfully, she’d found the building empty today with the others enjoying the day off or at events. Summer was wedding season, after all. Not that she needed to be there either. Her list proved the DeSalvo wedding was off on the right tracks. She’d met with Camellia and her bashful groom, Mitchell, on Tuesday where they’d picked out “save the date” cards. Later she’d met at the same place to help Jason and Cherry order their invitations.

  The library was reserved. Appointments with the florist, bakery, caterer, and dress designer were all set. She’d also sat in on a few consults with . . . well, darn. Once again her coworker’s name ran screaming from her memory. It was so unlike her to forget a name once she’d met someone, she just couldn’t understand why it was happening now and with this man.

  Old age? Stress? Going crazy?

  Well, the last one would explain the recent rash of fantasies she’d had starring David Farber.

  Granted, the guy had scored in the looks department, as well as charm, humor, and generosity. No one could fault him in the friend zone either. He’d do anything for Jason or Brody, his best friends since forever. Then there was his help landing the job. She could easily lose herself with him, around him, in him. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Half of it, anyway. His playboy lifestyle was the flip side.

  Chapter Nine

  They were surrounded by 360 degrees of coworkers with nowhere to run. Tawny tried to take the end seats. But nooo. Mr. Spinelli wanted her to sit by him so they could get to know each other better. On her other side sat David, (invading her air space) with his dive buddy—Phil! That was his name—and his wife. Behind them sat more of NE Event Solutions staff including Felicity and her fiancé, Dan, and a couple of others she’d seen in passing. In front of them sat Kerri, her hubby Troy Harper, and more of the Spinelli clan, including Mrs. Spinelli senior.

  Nowhere to run. No way to hide. No chance of forgetting the ruse and enjoying the game. Or slipping away early.

  For several hours Tawny crammed player names and stats in her head. Hey, if it worked in college to pass science, it should get her through one silly ball game. Still, she looked around at the other spectators waiting for the start of the game for clues of what to expect. Most were juggling armfuls of food and drinks or were busy checking out their smartphones. A quiet excitement filled the air. Based on the season so far, Pawtucket should win, although by a close margin.

  David leaned into her. “Have you ever been to a baseball game?”

  Uh, no. “Of course. Who hasn’t?”

  “Women who wear high heels and dresses to picnics.” He tugged on the bill of her newly acquired Red Sox hat. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” She caught his gaze. “And I didn’t even need your help getting dressed today.”

  “Darling, I’d happily help you get dressed any day.” Heavy-lidded eyes stared back at her, never leaving her face. “Or undressed.”

  She let her gaze slide down the front of him. The guy didn’t look too bad either in a Red Sox T-shirt stretched across his sculpted chest or the cargo shorts showcasing strong, tan legs. “I’ll keep the offer in mind.”

  “Hey, Dave, come with me on a food run.” Phil clamped his hand on David’s shoulder, oblivious to the tension in the air.

  The guys headed off to the concession stand with everyone’s order. Basically a gazillion hot dogs, peanuts, pretzels, and beer. Everything Tawny tried to avoid on a regular basis: calories, calories, and more calories.

  “Tawny, mom tells me you and Kerri are working the DeSalvo wedding.”

  She gave a little nod to her boss, wondering if Mrs. DeSalvo had made noise about her already. Goodness knows the woman was not happy with her after the library suggestion or that they didn’t need her for the save-the-date cards. Really, the woman hadn’t been happy since laying eyes on Tawny. Surely Kerri would have mentioned it if the client complained.

  “Don’t let Anna DeSalvo get under your skin. She’ll try. Trust me, she’ll give it everything she’s got to run roughshod over you. Anna is a classic Type-A personality. Got to have her fingers in every pie around. Now that daughter of hers is the complete opposite, quite the sweetheart. Takes right after her grandmother on her dad’s side. You worry about keeping Camellia happy, and if her mom gives you grief, let me know and I’ll handle Anna personally.”

  She appreciated her boss’s trust and faith in her, especially given that she’d only been with the company a short time and, outside of the rec center gala, she didn’t have a lot of event-planning experience.

  The announcer came over the loudspeaker as the two teams lined the sides of the field and everyone was asked to please stand for the national anthem. A young girl in her mid-teens walked to home plate, and what followed could only be described as breathtaking. She didn’t miss a beat, a chord, a note of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Not an easy feat
for most pros—as proven during several Super Bowls—much less a young girl. The crowd roared with pleasure when she ended and the introduction of each of the players began.

  Tawny, having never really watched a full baseball game, expected the players to break into action. When they loped off to take their places at a pace a two-year-old could outrun, she deflated. There was no other term for the huge disappointment she felt. She preferred the fast pace of lacrosse: get it going, get it done, and get on with life. The first player walked up to home plate right as David and . . . Well heck, there went his name again. One minute she knew it, the next it slipped off the edge of her brain into a giant abyss. She’d never had this problem before. Then again, lately she’d been doing a lot of things out of the norm for her. Quitting her job, making a play for David (drunk or not, it counted), pretending she loved baseball, and then there were those fantasies that kept her up every night. Chocolate frosting and David.

  Maybe she had a brain tumor? Would explain a lot. Including the urge to lean over right now and lick the drop of mustard off David’s finger.

  He handed her a hot dog, fries, a bag of peanuts, a box of Cracker Jack, and a beer. Light beer, as if fifty less calories would matter at this point. That was like going to an all-you-can-eat buffet and getting one of every dessert but saying you skipped the whipped cream.

  “I can’t eat all of this.” Precariously, she sat each of the items in her lap while hanging on to the dog and brew. “I’ll get sick.”

  He popped a fry into his mouth, grinning. “I thought we’d share.” He brushed his mouth across her ear. “You know, like couples do.”

  It took a minute for his words to sink in, so focused on the warm pleasure working its way down her neck. “Of course, but you better plan on eating everything except the hot dog.”

  “It’s an American tradition, darling.” At her quirked brow he continued. “Eating tons of junk food at a ball game until you’re either ready to pop or puke.”

  “Hmm, maybe so. I’m a non-traditionalist. Just ask my mom.” Sarcasm slipped in at the end as Tawny remembered she’d been summoned to her parents for dinner (aka a lecture), one she’d been putting off all week. If she waited much longer her mom would simply sic her oldest brother on her. She didn’t want to talk to either party about what her mom and Gram had witnessed outside the bakery. Her mother would never understand, would simply tell her if she married Ivan the Sexy Sexist she wouldn’t have to worry about work, and Gram, she’d tell her to go for it and have fun.

  David stole another handful of fries. “It’s one of the things I like about you. I never really know what you’re going to do, say, or even how you’re going to react. You keep me on my toes trying to keep up with you, and you never fail to amaze me at your ability to adapt. Take this new job. You’re already learning how to slow down, balance your life out with some fun mixed in with all the work. Getting fired from the bank was the best thing to happen to you.”

  He had a point, not that she planned to tell him. Since starting the new job, she’d been able to get more done and didn’t go to bed every night worried about tomorrow. It didn’t change her plan, she’d just tweak it to allow time for new experiences, like maybe take a class, learn to sail, or start jogging. Nah. Running for fun. An oxymoron if she’d ever heard one.

  “Shh.” A quick scan settled her nerves. Everyone was paying attention to the game. “Don’t get used to it. This job is only until I can land one in my profession. And how can you stand to sit here and watch this game. It’s so boring. No one has even made it to home yet. I mean, if something, anything was actually going on out there, I could understand the obsession.”

  David slipped an arm around her shoulders, meshing them together. “It’s not just about what’s going on in the field. It’s about relaxing, giving shit to your friends, or the other team’s fans. Showing your support for America’s favorite pastime.”

  “And here I thought that was Candy Crush or whatever game has overtaken social media these days.” She snuggled in closer, enjoying the solid strength next to her. Found herself imagining them doing this late at night in front of the fire, or early on a Sunday morning with a good book, and realized this was the kind of contentment she wanted one day. For now, well, if only these seats came built for two. Then again, maybe that was the genius behind the design, to keep frisky lovebirds on the straight and narrow.

  A crack exploded through the night. Everyone’s head jerked toward home, where the batter tossed the bat and took off for first. He pushed on, forcing his teammate to move faster. Together they passed second as the guy on third flew across home. Seconds later, the guy who’d started out on second crossed the plate, with the guy from first on his tail. The ball zoomed through the air, landing in the second baseman’s mitt. The batter took one look over his shoulder and threw himself through the air to slide across home a millisecond before the ball met the catcher’s mitt.

  The crowd went wild, Tawny included, jumping so fast French fries and peanuts went helter-skelter to land on those around them. No one cared. The PawSox scored. The players were jazzed, backslaps exchanged, hugs doled out and the next guy up walked with a confidence that swept you along.

  The next couple of innings stayed lively. Both teams scoring, keeping things neck and neck. At this rate, either team could win. Tawny found herself as caught up in the game as those around her. Cheering, jeering, and chanting along with the rest. All stress and worry melted away. Although occasionally she’d feel David watching her, and when she’d meet his gaze, her stomach felt like she’d swallowed a handful of Mexican jumping beans.

  David flagged down a vendor, bought two snow cones, and handed one to Tawny. Blue raspberry, a weakness held over from childhood. How did he know? Come to think of it, he knew a lot of her hot buttons and when to press them.

  “You’re enjoying yourself. You need to do this more.”

  “Baseball games?”

  “Let yourself go. Relax, have fun, cut loose.”

  She sat up straight, putting space between them. Why did he have to go there? She had fun, all the time. Just because her idea of fun came from working, from pursuing her dreams, from seeing checkmarks on a list instead of lounging in front of a TV or playing some silly game didn’t mean it wasn’t enjoyable. It didn’t mean she didn’t have balance in her life or had a stick up her . . . Yeah, she’d heard that enough times from her brothers since her teens. She’d learned her lesson, the hard way, what happens to girls who play without rules.

  He stood, pulled her along with him. “Walk with me. I need to stretch my legs.”

  Did the man not know how to ask?

  She followed for no other reason than to get some breathing space. At least that was what she told herself. It was either that or schedule an appointment to check for a brain tumor.

  Normally, she’d bristle at an order; with David, she found herself softening. She wasn’t really sure why. The man irritated her 90 percent of the time. And at the same time he intrigued her.

  With everyone else he never passed judgment, took them as they were and went about his day. With her, it wasn’t that he didn’t judge, more that he went out of his way to make sure she was having fun or happy. When she really thought about his earlier comment, she realized he wasn’t mocking her lifestyle. There had been no condescending tone, no reprimand. Goodness knows, growing up in the shadows of three overachievers, she knew the tone well.

  David was a welcome change. Yeah, he could fit in with her brothers on the whole be-the-best thing. The work he and Jason did on the rec center was top notch. Maybe the refreshing quality about him was his ability to go with the flow, accept people for who they were and not brag. Sure, she’d heard him boast a time or two with his buddies, rib them about barbecue techniques or some game or even women, claiming to be better at all three than his two best friends. But when it came to the important things like work or even just as a person, she never heard him brag.

  So while his comment
hit a nerve, she had to admit he had a point. She could stand a little more downtime (just a smidge, though).

  “What’s on your mind, Farber?” She leaned against the railing separating the concession area from the seats. The game had hit a lull again.

  He angled his body next to hers, his arm resting on the rail. His calloused thumb caressed back and forth across the top of her hand. “You.”

  Together they watched the PawSox player step up to the plate, swing, and strike one. Several minutes passed while they watched the game in silence. She presumed he was gathering his thoughts, selecting exactly what to say, from the deep concentration he had on the batter. His thumb never stopped moving, silently stroking, soothing.

  The batter struck out. David turned his full attention on her; deep blue eyes full of serious thought held her in place.

  “Why temporary? I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but why not stick around for the long term at this company?”

  “My degree is in finance, not party planning. I’ve spent the past eight years working my way up. What, I’m supposed to give up my goals now? Do you know what a financial manager makes compared to an event planner?”

  “No.”

  “Try double. I’m talking a six-digit figure.”

  “And that’s what’s important to you? Making a lot of money?”

  She shook her head. How did she explain her desire or her fear to him so he’d not only understand, but also not think she was crazy? “It’s not so much the money, although not having to worry about how the bills will get paid is great. It’s about the independence that comes from having money. Being able to put money in savings for a rainy day or a tornado or a freak snowstorm, as New England seems to have pissed off Mother Nature in the past couple of years, is reassurance. It’s the comfort of knowing when I’m old and can’t work, I won’t starve. It’s knowing I won’t have to depend on anyone else for my physical needs.”