Mr. Park Lane (The Mister)

I picked up a mini egg from the collection on my plate. “Yes, but I don’t count. I’ve known you since—”

Joshua’s phone buzzing interrupted us. He glanced at the screen. “It’s from Natalie. I better get it.”

I shrugged. “Show me how it’s done, Coach.”

He slid his fingers across the screen and jerked his head back at the message. He didn’t look impressed.

“Is she name calling you? Were you rude to her?”

He started to laugh. “I wouldn’t call it name calling. And no, I wasn’t rude.”

“What did she say?”

He glanced at me as if he were contemplating how to answer. “She didn’t exactly say anything. She chose to communicate through pictures.”

I sat up straight. “Really? Like naked pictures?”

He laughed again and nodded.

How typical that a woman he’d only just met would be sending him naked pictures. But that was the effect Joshua Luca had on women. “What bits?” I leaned over to try to see.

“Hey, no. There’s no way I’m going to show you.” He swiped and prodded at his phone. “There. I deleted it.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you,” I said, slicing another mouthful of cake. My forcefield wasn’t prepared for him to be quite so . . . I wasn’t sure if polite or grown up was the right descriptor, but his sense of decorum was more touching than I’d anticipated.

“I’m not a fifteen-year-old boy who needs to impress his friends with pictures of naked women.”

Every time I thought my forcefield was back up and running, Joshua had to go blowing holes in it. But I was getting better at patching them up. I just had to hope that one day the entire thing wasn’t going to collapse in a heap. “What are you going to say in reply? What does anyone say when they get an unsolicited naked picture from a relative stranger?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything. It’s not like I’m going to see her again. And I don’t want her to send any more.”

“You don’t? Hollie said she was beautiful. Maybe she’d be up for becoming your Miss Thursday Night.”

Joshua grumbled something under his breath but I didn’t catch the details.

“You have to say something in response.”

“Maybe I should just tell her . . . thank you?”

I kicked him in the shin and tried not to laugh at him being so delightfully clueless in this position. A part of me had assumed that Joshua was batting away boob-pictures on a regular basis. “I thought it was me that needed a dating coach. You cannot tell a woman ‘thank you’ after she sends you a picture of her boobs, without sounding like an arsehole.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

He typed out a message on his phone and then held it up to me. Great to meet you tonight. Good luck in the jewelry designing. Take care.

“You’re a pro,” I said, genuinely impressed. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested without being rude. “I would think you were a nice guy but we just didn’t vibe.”

“I am a nice guy. And we really just didn’t vibe.”

Joshua was nice. To me. But if we were romantically linked, I wasn’t so sure I’d feel that way. I imagined the women who slept with Joshua couldn’t get enough of him and always wanted more. Hell, I had to fight that feeling and we hadn’t gotten naked together. Thank goodness.

“Like you said to me, you need to kiss some frogs before you find the one.”

“Give me some more cake or I’m going to set you up with a model for your next date.”

“Sounds good. I’ve always had a thing for pretty men. You ruined me forever.”

He turned his head to look at me, unable to hide his smirk. “Excuse me, I did what?”

“Ruined me.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “Everyone knows that your first crush creates a blueprint for all future lovers.” I scrunched up my nose. Why couldn’t I keep my inside thoughts from spilling out of my mouth?

“I was your first crush?” He looked genuinely surprised. Like this was new information to him. I always felt like it radiated out of me in neon. Maybe I’d been better at hiding it than I thought.

“A crush the size of Everest.” The fact I could admit it was more evidence I was a different person now.

The dimple was back and so was that sexy smirk he should patent and sell. “I like that idea.”

“Had,” I replied. “I had a crush on you. Past tense.” I couldn’t bear the thought that I still fantasized about him. A woman’s forcefield couldn’t remain intact all the time.

“Oh,” he said, faking a wounded look, as if he cared whether a woman like me would have a current crush on him. Maybe he just assumed every woman wanted him. And he probably wasn’t so far off.

“I’ll have to do better for your next date,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “I’ll find your perfect woman.”