Mr. Park Lane (The Mister)

“Okay, let’s get out the KitchenAid.” Stella slid it out of the cupboard, placed it on the counter, and plugged it in. “So how’s Joshua? Still being a good neighbor?”

I wasn’t sure if my cheeks flushed red as I nodded, but they felt like they were on fire. I couldn’t think about Joshua without thinking about last night. And the night we’d gotten naked. And our first kiss. And then all the times in between when I just loved being with him.

“Of course,” I replied. “You know what Joshua’s like.” I tried to put on my best we’re-all-friends voice, but something about it didn’t ring true. There was no doubt that over the last six or seven weeks, Joshua and I had developed a true friendship. But over those weeks, something had shifted.

“Not really,” Stella said. “Normally Joshua is about work or his friends or going to one of a million parties he’s invited to or . . . you know, doing whatever he does with whoever he does it with.”

Jealousy seeped into my brain and I tried to brush it away with a hard blink. I wasn’t jealous of anyone sleeping with Joshua. Because I was immune. Because I still had a Joshua Luca forcefield around me.

Maybe less of a forcefield and more of a sturdy fence.

A velvet rope.

A voile curtain.

“Beck mentioned you two were setting each other up on dates,” Stella said.

“Yeah. One more to go. This next one is a doctor. Joshua wants me to be prepared. He’s coaching me.” I was fairly sure our fake date had ruined me for all other men. I wasn’t even certain I wanted to meet Brian anymore. What was the point, really, knowing he’d never measure up to Joshua?

“Coaching you?”

“I don’t have much dating experience—too focused on work all these years—so he’s helping.” Again, more evidence of Joshua being kind. I couldn’t think of anything I didn’t like about him.

“What does this coaching involve? Lessons in how to . . . what?”

“Not lessons exactly.” I was trying to think about the things that Joshua had actually said to correct me last night. “We went to dinner last night. You know, as a practice run.”

“Where did you go?”

“Just this place up the road from the hotel. He bought me the perfect dress to wear. So that helped—”

Stella froze, a spoonful of flour hovering over the bowl. “Pause. Tell me how that works. Joshua . . . bought you a dress?”

“Yes,” I said. “So I wouldn’t be stressed about picking out my outfit. It’s totally gorgeous and I can’t imagine what it cost him, but it was just so great being able to wear something I knew was going to be appropriate.”

“He bought you a dress, took you to dinner. This sounds like an actual date.”

I swallowed, not quite knowing what to say. I wasn’t about to confess to the handholding and the kissing. I hadn’t wanted to admit it even to myself, but whispers of suspicion had been creeping up on me. Last night had been one of the most enjoyable nights of my life. And nothing about it had seemed fake.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to say anything to anyone?”

Stella promised solemnly.

I took a breath before my confession. “I think I might like him. Like really like him. I know that’s stupid. It’s Joshua we’re talking about. He doesn’t do relationships and he’s used to dating supermodels—”

“It’s not stupid,” Stella said, her tone certain. “The salt can’t touch the yeast.” Stella handed me a packet of dried yeast. “You need to put them at opposite edges of the flour.”

“But they’re all going to be mixed together in the end anyway.”

“I don’t get it either, but I’ve tried to mix it at the beginning and it doesn’t work.”

I set about measuring the ingredients and placing them carefully into the mixing bowl, then mixed with a wooden spoon.

“I think you and Joshua make a great pairing. I’ve seen Joshua at these parties he throws for work and he’s terribly smooth and uber-charming. And then I see him when he’s with Beck and the guys and he’s smooth and charming but he’s also . . . more authentically himself. When he’s with you, it’s the real Joshua I see. Not some souped-up version. I think he can be himself with you.”

I laughed. “But that’s because he sees me as a friend rather than . . .” We had slept together but it was just a one-off. Then last night . . . that kiss. I shook my head. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.

“A friend doesn’t buy you dresses. Next you’ll be telling me he kissed you at the end of the evening, for practice.”

She glanced at me when I didn’t respond.

“He kissed you?”

I nodded.

Stella started to laugh. “He might have been telling you the date was fake, but there’s no way Joshua is kissing a woman he doesn’t want to kiss.”