License to Date (Better Date than Never) Read online

  My chest swelled. “Ethan proposed? When? I just left you last night.”

  “This morning. We took his boat out for a quick run on the Delta to test out Ethan’s new water ski. When I jumped in the water to cool off, he threw me a white life preserver with ‘Will you marry me?’ written around it in bright red letters.”

  Ethan had proposed on a life preserver? No wonder she didn’t sound enthused. “Congratulations, sweetie. That’s so . . . creative of him.”

  Kristen and Ethan had been history buddies before they gave into their feelings for each other and became a couple. I figured he would’ve proposed on an ancient scroll or something equally historical (and, um, boring). But a life preserver?

  “It’s an inside joke, but very sweet and thoughtful,” she said, her tone softening a little.

  “Well, as someone from the outside, I don’t get it.” I laughed. “But I’m really happy for you both.”

  “Thanks,” she said, flatly.

  “What else is going on, sweetie?” I checked my watch, then eyed the mound of paperwork in my in-box that I needed to plow through in the next hour before date number two. “Because you sound like someone torched your favorite history museum.”

  Kristen sighed. “It’s my fault, really. In my rush of joy, I made the mistake of calling my mother with the good news. Now, she’s making demands on where we get married—the Geoffries hotel, which, according to her, is the only suitable location in Sac—and their ballroom isn’t available for eighteen months. So mark your calendar for a year from February. Apparently that’s when I’ll be getting married.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said, remembering how hard it had been to please everyone while planning my wedding with my ex.

  “Yet what I have to do or I’ll crush her wedding dreams for the only child she’ll ever have—yes, she actually used that line on me. Nice, huh?”

  Her mother knew how to give a guilt trip, that was for sure. “What does Ethan’s mom say?”

  “She’s thrilled and thinks the Geoffries sounds lovely.” Kristen sighed. “If she’d protested, even in the slightest, I would’ve had an excuse that my mom couldn’t hold against me.”

  I shook my head, feeling bad that her engagement day had been deflated. “At least you’re marrying the right person. That’s huge. Don’t forget I went through all the wedding prep drama for a fiancé who’d hooked up with the maid of honor.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Kristen moaned. “Maybe things will work out with Brian Burnside and you’ll be planning your real wedding sooner than you think.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So not happening.”

  Then, for some strange reason, an image of Paul the bartender popped in my head. He was wearing a tuxedo, his blue eyes intent on mine, and his mouth curved upward as I walked toward him. . . .

  The receiver slipped from my grasp and smacked against the desk with a thwak, and I hurried to pick it up and put it back to my ear.

  “Kaitlin? You there?”

  “Yes . . . just, uh, dropped the phone.” The image of the hot bartender in his tux still burned in my mind and I started fanning myself. “Sweetie, I know it’s easier said than done, but try to remember that this wedding is about you and Ethan.”

  “Tell that to my mom.” She groaned. “My four o’clock is here so I have to go.”

  “No problem. Congrats again on your engagement!”

  “Thanks and keep an open mind on your date tonight. You never know . . .”

  “We’ll see,” I said, then hung up the phone, trying to delete the picture of Paul in his tux from my head.

  Instead, it burned brighter and the corner of his mouth turned up in that cocky way of his as if to tell me he knew I wanted to erase him from my mind and he wasn’t going anywhere.

  ****

  “Chase thinks I’m a bimbo.” It was a little past five o’clock as I leaned toward the mirror in my office, widening my eyes and applying black mascara to my lashes as I geared up for date number two.

  “You? A bimbo?” Ginger yanked a tissue from the box and dabbed a small blob of black from my eyelid. “He does not.”

  “Oh, he does. And I don’t blame him.” My cheeks heated as I relived the feel of Paul’s breath against my neck. “I kicked off our date by letting the bartender nuzzle my neck.”

  “Yeah, that was hot. We thought for a moment there you’d drop your date with Chase and go for the new Paul.” Ginger gave me an approving smile in the mirror then rolled her eyes when I frowned. “Oh, get over it. You’re a single woman and he left you waiting at a bar. Not smart on his part.”

  “But that didn’t mean I should let the bartender get fresh with me.” Well, it had been an act but she didn’t know that.

  Fresh. That’s what Paul the bartender reminded me of. A breath of fresh air that had made me feel alive. “Chase made a move on me outside the hotel after only one date. Bimbo. May as well tattoo it across my forehead.”

  Ginger thrust her hand on her hip. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he just likes you? That he was trying to claim you before the bartender turned your head and stole you away?”

  Too late for that. My head had certainly been turned and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Paul. And now I was picturing him in a tuxedo? Crazy. Yet the image kept replaying in my head. . . .

  “Hello? Kaitlin, are you there?”

  I jerked from my thoughts and remembered Ginger’s question. “Do I think Chase likes me that much? It’s possible. Do I think he made the wrong move by trying to cop a feel on the sidewalk? Definitely.”

  She handed me my Harlot Red lipstick. Okay, it was called Cherry Berry, but they’d have to rename it after the way I’d behaved last night. “Kaitlin, to be fair to Chase, it was over with him before it even began. You weren’t planning on going out with him again, right?”

  I grimaced, guilty as charged. “Nope. And I’m not planning on going on another date with Brian Burnside, either.”

  Twisting a lock of dark hair around her finger, she eyed me in the mirror. “I think you’re taking this whole dating deal in the wrong spirit. It’s not meant to be a chore. We care about you. We just want you to get over Paul and start having fun again.”

  I had fun last night. With the new Paul. Ugh. I wanted to rip my hair out. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about that bartender? He was such a flirt and I’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

  She squeezed my arm. “You seem upset. Maybe we should put a halt to this dating deal. If you don’t want to go out with Brian—”

  I shook my head. “No way. I want to go out with him.” And I did. Just like I’d go out with Ellen’s husband’s softball buddy tomorrow night. That left me with only two more dates to plan until she and Kristen would be at my command. “I’m getting these five dates done this week, so prepare yourself to paint my house this weekend.” Yes, that’s where I needed to focus my thoughts. Back on my house. Back on my new, beautiful start without having to worry about a man who was going to hurt me eventually.

  My cell rang and I glanced at the screen. A call from my dad? Weird, I’d just talked to him a couple weeks ago when I’d closed escrow. We had a good relationship but didn’t talk often, which could only mean he had a purpose. Since I didn’t have time for a full conversation, I let it go to voicemail.

  I put away my makeup, grabbed my sparkly wrap to wear over my silky black dress, then picked up the evening bag that matched my pink heels. “Well, I’m off.”

  She stepped back as I opened my office door. “Where are you and Brian meeting?”

  “The Geoffries.”

  Ginger’s eyes rounded. “Seriously?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, but it was Brian’s suggestion.” It was also not my fault that during my date last night with Chase, the waitress had brought my drink and passed me a napkin with a note scribbled on it. Sorry if I made things difficult for you. Come back tomorrow and I’ll give you my phone number. Promise. Paul.


  That had been the most exciting part of the evening after Chase had arrived, even though I still couldn’t understand why. Chase had been gorgeous and a decent date—even though the guy didn’t know squat about texturizing a wall.

  Mel had warned me about Brian Burnside and his lack of employment, but surely my mom knew otherwise since she always pressured me about nabbing a corporate guy who could “provide a good life” for me. Which, please, I could take care of myself.

  But Brian Burnside should be good company for an evening. I’d find out at the Geoffries. Knowing how Paul was occupying my thoughts, I should have done the smart thing and made reservations somewhere else. Too late now, though, because Brian said he had something special planned there. Maybe a yummy dessert?

  My stomach rumbled thinking about it.

  I’d just have to avoid the bar, that was all. Should be easy since I was meeting Brian directly in the restaurant. I gave him a quick text, confirming our plans. He texted back: Sure. Looking forward to seeing you!

  ****

  While strolling several blocks to the Geoffries, I checked my voicemail: Hi, Kaitlin. This is your dad. I’m going to be in Sacramento Friday for a business meeting. If it works for your schedule, I’d enjoy seeing your house before I fly out. Get back to me as soon as you’ve glanced at your calendar. Bye.

  Tension crept up my spine as I hung up the phone. Ever since Ginger had brought up my dad giving me the down payment for my house, niggling questions had lurked in the back of my brain. Why didn’t my dad and I ever talk about anything deep? It’s not like he was bossy or judgmental like my mom. I should’ve been able to tell him how abandoned I felt when he’d moved to Seattle. And how my break-up with my ex had devastated me. Pasting on a smile had always been my family dynamic, but I was starting to wonder if that was such a good thing. I mean, I’d started opening up to Paul so easily and I barely knew him.

  Paul. Why was I thinking about him again?

  When I arrived at the hotel, a mob of reporters greeted me outside the door and one shoved a microphone in my face. “Good evening, miss. Are you here to participate in Descending for Diabetes?”

  “No,” I said, remembering the advertisement in the lobby. Although I wondered what the event was about, I concentrated on squeezing past the reporters because I so didn’t love being in the spotlight—poised in the background was much more my style “I’m, um, here for dinner.”

  Two doormen flanked the gold double doors and ushered me safely inside. I threw a grateful smile to each of them. “Thank you.”

  As I entered the lobby, I caught my breath. Once again, I admired the hotel’s beauty. It was all polished marble and dark wood and subtle but classy décor. It was a premiere destination in Sacramento, but I’d never had to push through news personnel to get in before.

  My heels clicked against the lobby floor and I knew there was going to be no getting around it. In order to get to the hotel’s restaurant, I was going to have to go right past the bar. I wouldn’t look for Paul, though. I’d keep my eyes straight ahead.

  Right.

  Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to be able to resist taking a peek. But that was okay. Not like I’d stop to chat. Or get his phone number. Although, if I did I’d get my tub caulked. . . .

  Oh, man. What was wrong with me? I barely knew the guy. Maybe I was just fixating on him as a way to get over my ex-Paul (the cheating louse). But that was what my house remodel was supposed to be for. And unlike one flirty incident with a hot bartender, my cozy new house would be keeping me safe and warm for the foreseeable future.

  As I strode past the bar, I casually turned my head . . . then frowned. There was a blonde female bartender serving tonight. No sign of Paul. Was he on a break? Or had he forgotten he had the night off when he’d written that little note on my napkin?

  A rush of disappointment flooded me, but I tried to shake it off as I headed to the restaurant where I found Brian waiting for me.

  He wasn’t as handsome as Chase (or Paul), but he was cute in a sporty kind of way. Plus, according to my mom, he was an architect. And an architect should know a lot about renovating a house, so we could talk about a common interest during dinner. Maybe I’d learn some relevant info for my home.

  “Hi, Brian.” I held my hand out as I stopped in front of him. “So nice to finally meet you.”

  He smiled in a way that wasn’t exactly revolting and might even be construed as cute. If I were into dating for real, which I wasn’t. “Great to meet you, too,” he said, giving me a gentle hand shake. “How’s your mother doing?”

  “She’s wonderful, thanks.” I shot one last glance behind me. Still only the blonde bartender. Whatever. I forced the corners of my mouth upward. “Have you been waiting long?”

  He pressed his hands together. “Actually, I arrived a little early as part of the surprise.”

  I blinked. “Okay, I have no idea what you mean by that. Aren’t we having dinner?”

  “We are having dinner after.” He wiggled his brows, then turned his head away and put his hand to the side of his mouth. “My date is here now.”

  I flinched at the loudness of his voice.

  The dark-haired hostess walked up and gave us a lovely smile. “Would you like to have drinks before you get started?”

  I looked from the hostess to Brian. “Before we get started with what?”

  “Yes, we definitely need a drink first.” He gave me a mischievous look and started to follow her. Then he stopped when he realized I wasn’t behind him. He spread his hands wide. “Trust me, you’re going to love this.”

  Trust him? I didn’t even know him.

  “Actually, I don’t love surprises.” I tightened my wrap around my shoulders, finding it difficult to keep my composure. “Would you please tell me what we’re doing?”

  If his plans were short, I might be able to get some wallpaper peeling in tonight.

  “Okay, I’ll spill the beans.” His face lit up, like he’d just won the California lottery, then he raised his arms and made gestures as if he were climbing a rope. “We’re going to rappel down the Geoffries hotel.”

  I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. It sounded like you said we’re rappelling down the hotel.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right.”

  My mouth froze. “You’re not kidding?”

  He shook his head. “The Descending for Diabetes event costs a grand per ticket and I won two tickets on the radio. We’re going to rappel down from the swimming pool terrace, which is on the fifth floor. Isn’t that incredible?”

  “Yes,” I said, finding it incredible that he thought I’d rappel down the side of a freaking building. Staying calm, I glanced down at my silky dress, then held my finger up. “Let me just run home and change into my mountain climbing gear.”

  I was so not coming back.

  Chapter Four

  “Whoa.” Brian reached out and grabbed hold of my arm before I could head toward the lobby (and out the door). “Don’t worry about what you’re wearing, Kaitlin. That’s part of the fun of this Descending for Diabetes event. Everyone rappels down the building in their evening wear.”

  Making a mental note to never let my mom set me up again, I eased out of his grip. “No way, Brian. Everyone would be able to see up my dress. You should’ve told me to wear pants.”

  He shook his head. “They said the harness keeps everything covered.”

  The hostess reappeared—apparently having realized we hadn’t followed her—and gave us a questioning look. “Do you prefer to have your drinks on the event terrace?”

  A drink sounded so good right now. Maybe two drinks. Maybe if I had enough drinks they wouldn’t allow me to go down at all. Hmm.

  “Yes, the terrace might work better since we’re getting pressed for time.” Brian checked his watch, slipped his arm around me, then started forward toward the elevator.

  “Brian,” I said, surprised to find my legs moving along beside him. “I c
an’t do this.”

  “Why not?” His brows came together as he punched the elevator button and gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve already given the radio show hosts our names and they’re interviewing us shortly. It’s for charity, Kaitlin. Your mom told me your cousin has diabetes.”

  Oh, way to lay on the guilt. “I give money every year, but—”

  “Your mom also told me you were outdoorsy and adventurous.” The elevator arrived and he motioned me in.

  “Really?” I sighed, knowing my mother would say anything to marry me into her country club. She would so not approve of a charming bartender. Shaking my head clear of Paul—who I shouldn’t even be thinking about since he hadn’t followed through on his napkin promise (and because I was on a date with another man)—I cleared my throat, then stepped inside the elevator. “How does the charity benefit if I work up the guts to do this?”

  He hit the button for the fifth floor. “Each participant, or ticket, costs a grand which is donated to diabetes research. The Geoffries hotel matches every participant’s donation once they’ve rappelled down the building.”

  “That’s very generous of the Geoffries.” In addition to fabulous drinks and hot bartenders (ugh, Paul on the brain again), the hotel also seemed to have a heart. Now I just needed to muster the courage to do this.

  We arrived to the fifth floor and the elevator doors opened with a ding.

  Brian held his arm out. “Ladies first.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled politely—to mask the terror I felt inside—then stepped out onto the terrace, which was buzzing with waiters, music, and elegantly dressed guests. I might’ve been able to enjoy the festive outdoor atmosphere if I didn’t know it was only our jumping off point. Literally. “So my mother told me you’re an architect,” I said, needing a distraction.

  He slipped his arm around my waist and led me toward the bar. “That’s right. I’m doing independent contracting right now, but I used to work for—”

  “May I get you a drink?” A man asked from behind me.

  I stiffened. That voice. I knew that voice. That husky, manly, and yes, sexy voice. I’d dreamt about that voice last night. . . .