Nominated for an Eppie award for Best Erotic Contemporary Romance!
"...with love? Age knows no boundaries..."
She retraced her steps with a groan, picked up her small purse, carefully sat in a chair so as not to wrinkle her dress and rummaged around inside her bag. Lipstick, comb, cheater glasses, a small bottle of hairspray and Beano. Thank goodness she'd remembered to pick up the last. She'd never bought it and couldn't imagine that she'd have to take five pills before she ate dinner but with the way her stomach was jumping around, there was no way she would allow an accidental fart to sneak free and embarrass the hell out of her. When Max barked, one almost did squeak out.
Maisy leapt to her feet and peeked around the edge of the curtain and saw the beam of headlights sweep across the yard. She almost pissed her new undies. The moment of reckoning was here.
Ducking, she crept away from the window, battling the urge to stay rooted to the spot and get an early glimpse of what her date looked like. She tucked her purse beneath her arm, stayed low and hurried across the room to stand by the door.
Her eyes fell to her fingers where they tightly clutched the purse. Christ. Now she looked eager as hell. She tossed the bag on the small foyer table, stepped away then darted forward to straighten it. Exhaling slowly, she smoothed the front of her dress and waited for the doorbell to ring.
"Well, this is dumb," she hissed aloud to no one. What? Was she going to fling open the door and look like she was desperate? She'd count. That's what she'd do. She'd count to ten after the bell rang.
Her shoulders jerked when it did.
One...two...three... "Quiet, Max! Sit!" she hissed. Four...five... "Ah, hell, "...six, seven, eight, nine, ten!" she whispered quickly.
Taking one last settling breath, she opened the door.
Whatever else she had planned to say disappeared right into thin air.
Her jaw sagged open.
"Hello, Ms. Maisy Collins. Remember me?"
Remember him? Hell, she'd almost gone and purchased a vibrator because of him. "Mr.—" she swallowed. "Mr. Martini?"
He dipped his head. Dimples creased his smoothly shaven cheeks. "One and the same."
She tipped her head and peered around one broad shoulder to see if anyone else stood between him and the waiting limo, her mouth still gaping open. "You—you're my escort for tonight?"
Again, he nodded.
She grasped for something to say. "Well that's—that's good. I'd hate to see you have to fix a faucet in such a nice suit." She could have kicked herself in the ass for making such an inane comment, yet her heart sang louder and louder and the blood pumped in her ears with excitement as she realized a fantasy coming true.
Maisy Collins of all people was going to get the dream date of her life. Of all the many men she'd pictured in her head throughout the week, Dean Martini was the one man her thoughts had always brought her back to. And good god in heaven he stood before her in the flesh. She glanced down when his hand came out from behind his back.
"These are for you. A birthday bouquet from the escort service. Would you like to put them in water before we go?"
She reached out with a shaking hand and took the sweet-smelling flowers. "I-I suppose I should. Oh, please, come in." Maisy stepped back, waited for him to step into the foyer, looked heavenward and mouthed a thank you behind his back then closed the door.
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