The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

“Sounds like you,” Sawyer grumbled, even as his lips were starting to curl into a smile.

“Damn straight,” Tyler said before turning to Felicia and giving her a curious look. “Something’s different. Do you have new glasses or is it your hair? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it down before.”

She grew at least two inches while Hudson stiffened beside her. Of course, he would have known exactly what was different even if he hadn’t been the one helping her to make that transition, but Tyler was different. He had never noticed how she’d looked before. This was progress, even if it was ham-fisted.

“Yeah,” she said, her face managing not to turn beet red as she reached up and smoothed the long strands tickling her shoulders that were exposed in the sleeveless dress. “Trying something different.”

“I like it,” Tyler said, his gaze traveling down from her hair to the scoop neck of her dress, looking at her in just the way she had been hoping for years he would. “It suits you.”

While the comment didn’t set off the swarm of butterflies in her belly, Felicia held on to the triumph of that moment, sailing on the high of it, for the rest of dinner. There was some talk about the office complex Carlyle Enterprises hoped to build for Tyler’s client, but things relaxed after the food was served—especially after Sawyer got a notification on his phone that the Giants’ star slugger had hit a grand slam. That led to the two men clinking glasses and from that point on the conversation went from stories about their days at prep school and college to Tyler’s high-heel-wearing upstairs neighbor.

“So she walks around in her apartment. What do you want her to do? Float?” she asked with a chuckle.

“It’s not that,” he said, his face animated and his blue eyes glimmering with excitement. He always was drawn to a challenge. “She complained to the building management that I was annoying her.”

Sawyer snorted. “Aren’t you the building management?”

“Yeah.” Tyler nodded. “I own the place, but none of the tenants know that.”

Okay. That made little to no sense. “Why not?”

Tyler grinned at her. “I have my reasons.”

“And you’re not sharing?” Of course he wasn’t. That wasn’t how Tyler operated. Ever.

He gave her a wink. “You know I always have something up my sleeve.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Sawyer said before turning the conversation back to the Giants and the upcoming playoff game they were both going to.

By the time the bill came, Tyler and Sawyer did the whole manly fighting-over-the-bill thing before Hudson—who’d been weirdly quiet for most of dinner—swiped it off the table and took care of it without more than a mumbled, “I’ve got it.”

It was weird, but she shoved the thought aside, instead relishing the way Tyler’s gaze kept traveling back to her. That was what she had been after for years. She kept waiting for the thrill of anticipation to skitter across her skin or for the spike of awareness to find its way right to her core, but it never came. Not when Tyler draped his arm across the back of her chair. Not when he toyed with the ends of her hair as it lay on top of her shoulders. Not when he leaned in close and whispered that she looked great tonight. That she didn’t get all freaked out—which usually meant blushing her way through an adrenaline rush—but that didn’t mean anything. She was just focused on her goal, and she couldn’t afford to let down her guard and enjoy the moment. That would come later. She just knew it would.

She stood, and they said their good-byes. The brush of Tyler’s lips across her cheek was a win, but her reaction must have been delayed because it wasn’t until Hudson pressed his hand to the small of her back as they walked through the restaurant that the telltale heat of blood rushing to her cheeks hit her. Of course, it was just a slow reaction to a successful night. And instead of focusing on it, she’d start planning the next stage in this experiment because that’s what she did. She kept her attention solely focused on the goal—dating Tyler Jacobson before she turned thirty in less than two weeks.

…

The night had gone so perfectly that Hudson had an overwhelming urge to punch someone—anyone—square in the face as he sat in the back of the Uber with Felicia on the way back to her apartment. Captain Clueless hadn’t missed a single opportunity to touch Felicia. Which was great. Really. Fucking. Great. Everything was happening just as he’d planned. Tyler and Sawyer had been giving each other shit over dessert—as they should be since they’d been friends since the dawn of time—and that asshole Tyler had finally started to notice what had been in front of him for most of his life. And Felicia had lapped it all up. Not what he’d had planned—or at least not what he wanted he could admit to himself.

Felicia turned in the seat next to him in the Uber, a little V of confusion appearing behind the bridge of her glasses. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” His hands balled into fists a

t his side? The fact that his molars were now a thing of the past?

She gnawed on her bottom lip for a second before answering. “You barely talked at dinner.”

“It was hard to get a word in with Captain Clueless rambling on and on.” And touching her.

Jesus. Pull yourself together, Carlyle. You fucked her, just like you’ve fucked plenty of other women in your life. Caveman is not a good look for you.

“He has a name,” she said, her eyes narrowing and her chin tilting up in a stance he knew far too well. “Say it.”

There was nothing in her tone to make him think she’d give up, so he schooled his features into a teasing smile and slipped on the mask that had always fit him so well up to now. “Tyler. The love of your life’s name is Tyler Jacobson.”

“And he liked the dress.” She glided her palms across the clingy fabric covering her thighs, the ones with a few freckles spanning each one.

“More like he liked the woman in it.”