Mr. Park Lane (The Mister)

I should reply. I had to take this as seriously as he was.

I typed out, Looking forward to it, Joshua.

I paused. Should I add kisses? That had never been a thing between Joshua and me on our texts. But if he was Brian . . . I’d probably send a kiss if he had, right?

I added two kisses and pressed Send.

I’d been looking forward to a relaxing evening with someone who was turning out to be my best friend. But if he was going to go all charming-loverman-player on me, I’d have to up my game.

In forty-five minutes, I’d managed to wrangle some mascara and blush, and my hair was actually behaving itself for once. I’d even managed some polish on my toes. The woman in the mirror looked . . . fine. Pretty, if understated. Despite standing in only my underwear, I was sweating like I was in the Sahara. I padded over to the bathroom and ran a flannel under some cold water, then held it against the various parts of my body that felt like they were on fire. I wasn’t made for dressing up. It wasn’t in my biology.

When I’d cooled down a little, I returned to my bedroom and stared at the dress hanging in the doorway. It was so beautiful. I bet I’d rip it getting it on. I went back into the bathroom and washed my hands, determined to make absolutely sure that I didn’t get any marks on it before I left the building.

My hands were shaking as I took the dress from the hanger and unzipped it. Trying to be as careful as I could, I stepped into the frock and shimmied it over my hips. At least it fit. I slipped my arms in and reached around the back to the zip. The fabric felt beautifully soft against my skin and held me in at all the right places. I stepped into the dressing area to take a look.

Wow. I didn’t look like me. I looked like one of the women I saw passing through the lobby of the hotel. I almost looked like I belonged on Joshua’s arm. At least I wouldn’t embarrass him. Now I just needed to channel the power and confidence of the Rokeby Venus.

I slid on the super-strappy sandals. Just as I reached for my clutch, Joshua knocked on the door.

Excitement bubbled in my stomach—something I’d not felt with either of the two dates Joshua had set me up with so far. Probably because I knew I was going to have a great evening tonight and I didn’t need to worry about impressing a stranger. It took the pressure off.

“Hey,” I said as I opened the door, grinning.

Joshua lifted his chin. “Wow.”

“You like?” I did a little spin. “You have excellent taste.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“It took me over an hour to get ready. Can you believe it?”

Joshua laughed. “These are for you.” He handed me a posey of flowers in a square bag with fancy writing on it.

“You’re too much. You didn’t need to get me flowers.” I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the pink and yellow roses and freesias. “They are beautiful though.”

“Your dates should bring you flowers. You’re worth it.”

I tilted my head and gave him my best don’t-be-ridiculous look. “Get out of it.”

“If your date brings you flowers, don’t tell him to ‘get out of it.’ Thank him. Got it?”

“Thank you, Joshua.” I looked at him, a little puzzled. The dress, the texts, and now the flowers? He really was going above and beyond.

“You’re more than welcome. They’re in water so will be fine until you get home.”

I set the flowers down in the hall and shut the door behind me.

“Let’s go.” Joshua held out his hand.

I slid my palm against his and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. “I can’t remember the last time I held a man’s hand other than you.” Tonight, and earlier in the week, when he’d led me to the perfect thirty-eight-degree bath.

“Me neither,” he said.

It didn’t take long to get to the restaurant. Joshua was a gentleman the entire way, opening doors—though he always did that. Paying me compliments—again, a common occurrence with Joshua. He asked about my week, which was par for the course. As much as he was an excellent fake date, he’d been a real friend to me these months. Something in my chest tightened at the thought of moving away in just a few weeks’ time. I’d miss him.

We were seated in a small booth at the back of the restaurant. “I’m a little concerned,” I said. “I don’t think most men I date will be this attentive. If the conversation dries up, what do I do?”

“Do whatever comes naturally. Be yourself.” Easy for him to say. Joshua always knew the right thing to say.