Mr. Park Lane (The Mister)

“She’s all those things,” Hollie agreed.

“Right, and I need to find a man worthy enough to date her. You must know someone. Someone you would date if you weren’t married to Dexter. Someone worthy of you.”

She paused, narrowing her eyes at me. “I do know someone, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about him.” I took a steadying breath, preparing myself to believe the best about whoever Hollie had in mind.

“Sure. He’s gorgeous—could have been a model if he wasn’t so busy running a company of his own and making big money. He’s kind, funny, smart as hell. Hasn’t been in a long-term relationship for a long time, but I think he’s ready.”

I cleared my throat. “Right, well . . . he sounds great. How do you know him?”

“Met him after I moved here, actually.” She paused, reaching for something under the counter. In her hands she held a flat, black oval—maybe a picture frame. Hollie beckoned me closer, then flipped the item she held: a mirror. “It’s you, you big dummy.”

A chill raced down my spine. “Absolutely not. I don’t . . . get involved with women.”

“But you like Hartford,” she said.

“Of course I like Hartford.” I couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Hartford. She was one of those people who just made everyone instantly comfortable. Another reason why I needed to get a bit of distance. I was too comfortable hanging out with her.

“So why don’t you take her on her second date?”

I snorted. “I told you I don’t do relationships. I need a guy she might like who does do relationships. Someone who might turn into a second date. Maybe even give her mother the grandchildren she’s so desperate for.” I wasn’t about to share the fact that I’d kissed her or that Hartford used to have a crush on me. I’d never hear the end of it.

Hollie’s look said she had already given me the answer I was looking for. But she hadn’t.

“You must know someone,” I said. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. Perhaps I should speak to my mate Nathan. His brothers were all doctors. One of them might take her out. A doctor would more likely understand where Hartford was coming from—her need to help people and the dedication she had to her career.

“I’ll have a think about it. But you should consider taking her to dinner.”

Hollie wasn’t getting it, which surprised me; she was normally pretty switched on. “We have dinner all the time because we live next door to each other.”

Hollie laughed. “How the six of you guys managed to make your billions, I have no idea. Y’all can be dumb as rocks at times.”

I frowned at her. “Oi. Less of the abuse, thank you.”

“Joshua, you like Hartford. It’s obvious. And that’s great. I know it’s not your usual M.O. but it’s good. Take her out. Make her swoon. I have it on very good authority that she’s fantasized about having her way with you.”

Hollie’s smirk told me I hadn’t managed to pick my jaw up off the floor fast enough. “It’s not like that between us. We’re friends. And like I said, I’m not interested in a relationship.”

She looked at me like I might be the most stupid person on earth. “Joshua, Joshua, Joshua. I’ll try to think of someone else I think might be right for Hartford, but I suggest you have a big think yourself about whether or not you actually want someone else taking her out. When you come to your senses and realize what’s right in front of you, she might not be available anymore.”

That sounded perfect. The sooner Hartford wasn’t single, the better.

Sixteen

Hartford

I was on a mission: fulfil Gerry’s “Life Outside the Hospital” requirements for the week and find Joshua a date. Today’s guided tour of the National Gallery would hopefully accomplish both.

I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a glimpse of the large painting the guide had ushered us toward. A man in front of me noticed me straining to see and shuffled to the left to give me a better view of the naked woman lying on a blue bed. She had her back to us and her bottom out, and was looking at herself in the mirror. It was exactly the kind of picture you’d expect to see if you came to an art gallery.

“So obviously, this is Venus,” the guide said.

It was obvious? I was way out of my depth.

Our guide was in her thirties—perhaps thirty-two or thirty-three. She was about the same height as me but her hair was sleek and glossy and her make-up expertly applied. The pale gold lanyard strung around her neck said her name was Janet.

Joshua might like her. Their names would sound cute together. And as one of the curators at the gallery, she would be clever. Joshua deserved someone who could keep up with him.