Page 32 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

RHYS

K im glared at me in the rearview mirror as she tried to get comfortable in the back seat. “You know,” she grumbled, “I always liked Porsches. But the back seat is absolute fucking garbage.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” I said. “Sorry. I know it’s a tight fit.”

She sighed. “It’s fine. And much better than being in a comfortable restaurant with a jackass who suggests you order the salad and stick to sparkling water to avoid the calories in alcohol.”

Vanny gasped as she twisted around in her seatbelt. “He did not. ”

“Oh. He did. And lucky me, he was a personal trainer, so he spent the first half-hour telling me about all the places on my body I should focus my attention on to build muscle to get a better silhouette. Fucking Jackson. I swear. This time, I’m going to murder him.”

“Jackson?” I asked.

Vanny sighed. “Our old friend. He’s a matchmaker. And he has a pretty good track record except for when it comes to poor Kim. I’m starting to wonder if he’s sabotaging you.”

Kim gazed out the window at the passing traffic lights. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

“Is he into you?” I asked.

Kim laughed and shook her head. “No. God no. He’s been in love with the same person for ages.”

“And who might that be?” I asked.

“Hailey,” both women said at once, like I was supposed to know who Hailey was.

Vanny shifted in her seat. “You’ll meet them both at the reunion.

They’re both in mine and Kim’s grad class.

He’s loved her for as long as any of us can remember.

I mean, it makes sense. She’s gorgeous and sweet and a little naive.

She comes from a wealthy family and has a lot going for her. ”

I hadn’t even known Kim was coming to the reunion. So it looked like Vanny had friends to call her own after all. She wasn’t as alone as she seemed to think she was. Or as unlovable.

“We were about to head out for sushi, Kim,” I said. “Would you like to join us?”

Kim shook her head. “No. Thank you. I just want to go home, get out of this dress, have a bath, and read my damn book. At least Parker knows how to write a good man. I can fantasize about ending up with a fictional hunk until the cows come home.”

The women proceeded to gush about Parker’s newest romance novel while I drove Kim home.

They were still going on about it when I pulled up to her apartment building and killed the ignition.

I sat quietly in the driver’s seat and let them bicker about which novel was the best and why.

Then it circled back to the age-old debate: was Parker a man or a woman?

“I stand by the fact that it’s a woman,” Kim said as I got out of the Porsche to pull my seat forward and let her out of the back. She came out like a spider, all long limbs and awkward angles. She straightened her dress once she was out. “No man could ever write romance like that.”

“Why not?” Vanny challenged, leaning forward to peer out the driver’s side door, which was still open. “Men are just as capable of feeling the same love as women.”

Kim shook her head and scoffed. “I’m sorry. But no man can write sex like that. You wait, Vanny. One day, we’ll know the truth. And I’ll be there to say I told you so.”

Vanny rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome for the rescue.”

Kim grinned and gave me a hug. “You guys are the best. I can take a hint. You go back to your date night. I’ll go wallow in the self-pity of how eternally single I am and compose the hate mail I’m going to send Jackson every day until the day I die.

” She gave a sweet smile and waved when I got back in the car. “Bye bye now.”

We waited to make sure Kim got into her building before I pulled away.

“Sorry about her.” Vanny shook her head. “She can be a bit much.”

“I like her.”

Vanny smiled and made herself comfortable in her seat. “Where are we going now?”

“Sushi. You do like sushi, right? Otherwise, this thing is over.”

“This thing?” she asked coyly.

“Yeah. You. Me. The sex. The dress shopping. The reunion. All of it. Done.”

“Well, lucky for us, I do like sushi.”

“Praise the Lord.”

I took Vanny to my favorite sushi spot in Nashville, where she let me teach her how to use chopsticks.

She was embarrassingly bad. But it was endearing.

The way she giggled and rocked back in her seat every time she dropped a gyoza or a roll was a delight each and every time—and there were several times.

She tried things she’d never tasted before and scrunched up her nose when she didn’t like something.

She mistook the wasabi for guacamole and coughed and sputtered and guzzled water like she’d just run a marathon.

By the time we were done, she joked that she needed to get better at trying more varieties of foods.

That was something I could help her with if she’d let me.

“I have something else for you,” I said as we walked back to the Porsche around nine o’clock in the evening.

“Oh?”

I opened the passenger door for her. She slid in and I walked around the hood to meet her in the car.

Then I fished a little box from my jacket pocket and held it out to her.

“We have to make this thing official. Like I said. You need a ring.” I popped the box open.

Wedged between the folds of blue-velvet fabric was what appeared to be a very convincing, very large, very sparkly engagement ring.

“Holy fucking grapes.”

I blinked. “Grapes?”

“What?”

“You said holy fucking grapes.”

“I did?”

Was she messing with me? I chuckled. “Yes. You did. Just now.”

She peered down at the ring in the box. “I didn’t mean to. It just sort of came out. Rhys… where did you get this? Please tell me it’s not real.”

“It’s not.” That was a lie. The ring was very real. I’d purchased it just shy of two months ago from a family friend who owned his own jewelry business. It was a custom-made, one of a kind piece, and it had not been cheap.

It also had never been worn by a woman before. I’d purchased it for Trish. But that ship had sailed and now I couldn’t see any reason why it shouldn’t be the ring Vanny wore to her reunion.

The devil was in the details.

I plucked the ring from the box and took her left hand so I could slide the ring onto her finger. Once it was on, she held it up, marveling at the way it dazzled even in the poor light in the car. She frowned. “There’s no way this is fake, Rhys. Whose ring is this?”

“Mine.”

She gnawed her bottom lip. “What woman’s finger was it meant for?”

There was no sense lying now. “Trish’s.”

“Rhys, this doesn’t feel right.”

“Please. Just wear it to the reunion. It’s not like I’m giving it to you to keep. It’s just to solidify the lie. You know?”

She sighed. Then finally, she smiled. “Can I say something?”

“Anything.”

“The bitch didn’t deserve it.”

I threw my head back and laughed. Vanny laughed too.

“Should I take you home?” I asked.

She nodded. “Sounds good.”

Vanny dropped her keys into the bowl on her kitchen island. She shrugged out of her jacket and draped it over one of her barstools, and then she went to the stove, where she grabbed her tea kettle and filled it at the sink. She glanced over her shoulder. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Another invitation to stay. I wasn’t going to say no. “Sure.”

She set the kettle on the element and turned it on. Then she stepped out of her shoes and brought them to the front door, where she left them beside my boots.

“Does your kettle take long to boil?”

She gave me a side-eyed look that said, why are you asking me such a stupid question , and shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Ten or so minutes?”

“Great.”

I moved toward her, caught her cheek in one hand, and kissed her. Vanny giggled softly against my lips and pushed at my chest, but I didn’t let go, and she gave in just like she had the other night.

I’d been under a lot of stress the last few nights.

I needed a release. And the girl had been torturing me in the parade of dresses she put on that afternoon.

Helping her out of the strappy little number had been a true test of will.

And now that I had her all to myself, I wanted to indulge in all the things I’d been dreaming of doing all evening.

She tugged at my belt and pulled it free.

I worked at the buttons of her blouse. One by one, they popped open, exposing a lace camisole underneath.

It fit her snugly, pulled tight across her breasts, and tucked into her jeans.

The fabric was silky to the touch as I let my hands wander down to her waist and then lower still, around her hips, to her ass.

I squeezed and she smiled into our kiss as she struggled to undo my jeans.

She got the zipper down. I walked her backward and pinned her up against the kitchen island before setting to the task of taking her jeans off.

She helped, sort of, by trying to kick them off, but ended up driving her heel into my thigh.

She spent the next minute apologizing while I stripped the rest of her clothes off until she was in nothing but that pretty camisole and bra.

I spread her legs and she gathered the front of my shirt to pull me in for more kisses.

Her tongue was still a little spicy from the wasabi.

I let my touch wander between her thighs.

She moaned softly into my mouth when I touched her wetness.

She was everything a man could want. Sloppy wet.

Tight. Full figured and curvy and womanly in all the right ways.

Her thighs were thick and soft under my hands.

I loved to squeeze her, to feel the softness of her in my hands, and I adored the little sounds she made when I eased a finger inside her.

The kettle was screaming on the stove by the time I dropped my jeans and boxers and pressed deep inside her.

She held herself to me with her arms draped over my shoulders.

Her fingers worked into my hair and she rocked her hips, riding me like a pro.

My cock plunged in and out of her until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I pulled out and came on her thigh.

Vanny pressed her forehead to mine. “Again.”

I was somewhat out of breath. “I have a condition.”

“Asshole.”

I chuckled and closed my eyes. I could smell her perfume, sweet and floral and feminine. “I have a golf tournament tomorrow with some investors. Come with me.”

“As your arm candy? Rhys. Please. I’m not one of those girls. And there’s no way I’m walking around a golf course in a tiny little skirt with—”

“Not as arm candy. As an ally.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Fine. An ally.”