“I’m sure you do. And I’m sure, in some circles, you’re positively fascinating.”
Whatever. Figuratively speaking, she had an engraved invitation to this thing, and she wasn’t above waving it in the stuck-up bitch’s face. “Booker seems to think so.”
Miranda’s lips pressed into a grim smile. “Men’s interests can be so predictable, can’t they? And predictably short-lived once they satisfy their curiosity, but I suspect you already know, given your pedigree.” Hard blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she brushed past Laurie. “Enjoy your evening.”
It will be your last at an event like this. The unspoken words taunted her as vividly as the iconic red soles of the stilettos gracing the older woman’s feet. Each step sent a dismissive echo reverberating down the hallway. Laurie ducked into the powder room and faced her reflection in the gilded mirror at the same time she faced a few facts.
Fact one: Miranda had, essentially, nailed it. Once her six-date commitment to Booker ended, they ended. He’d offered her a deal. Nothing more. The side benefits, interesting as they were, didn’t change that fundamental truth. He needed her as a short-term diversion.
Fact two: she couldn’t let herself forget fact one, because if she did, she might just—the carsick feeling returned in full force—fall in love with him.
Don’t. She used a tissue to blot her forehead and tried to calm her churning stomach with a heaping dose of reality. You care for him. He means more to you than any man ever has, but don’t fall in love. You’re not wired for it. You don’t believe in forever, remember? Booker does, and he deserves forever with someone who fits the brand, and has the pedigree, and, most importantly, doesn’t have an ugly skeleton in her closet.
She flipped the tap on full blast to drown out her thoughts, and held her hands under cool water. It helped. After a moment she turned off the tap and risked another look in the mirror…and faced one more fact.
He didn’t ask you for forever. He asked you for six dates. Get out there and do what he’s counting on you to do.
Right. After drying her hands, she opened the door, and stepped into the hallway—directly into Booker’s mother.
“Oh, how perfect. You’re just the person I hoped to find.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Come with me.” Rebecca took off down the hall, away from the party, and motioned for Laurie to follow. “This won’t take long. I have something for you. Something you’ll find very useful, I think.”
Great. Was Rebecca going to write her a check to get her out of Booker’s life? If so, the woman sure was chipper when it came to bribery. She led them to a sleekly feminine office and stepped over to a small, round table with a Best Life shopping bag sitting on the smooth, glass surface.
“When Booker told me he was bringing you tonight, I took the liberty of curating some selections from one of our in-development product lines. This is all very top secret.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a box with the scrolled, gold Best Life logo across the lid and held it out to Laurie. “I don’t want to sound too much like a proud spokeswoman, but I know you’ll find we hit the right balance between authenticity, elegance, and comfort.”
Laurie reached for the slim, rectangular box. It felt light and insulated, and…valuable. “Mrs. Booker, I’m flattered—”
“Call me Rebecca. We should be on a first name basis.”
She had next to no experience with mother-of-the-boyfriend relationships, but this one seemed to be moving awfully fast. “Rebecca, I’m flattered you thought of me, but—”
“But nothing. I see an opportunity to improve something, I take it.” Anticipation sparkled in Rebecca’s eyes. “Go ahead. Open it.”
The lid lifted off easily. Inside was a white, suede clamshell box with the same embossed gold letters across the top. The kind of box a jeweler might use to hold a necklace or bracelet. “Really Mrs. Booker, you—”
Rebecca reached over and flipped up the lid.
“Shouldn’t have,” Laurie uttered as she stared at the polished silver handcuffs nestled in white silk. Holy crap, Booker’s mother was giving her Best Life bondage gear.
“I just couldn’t help myself!” Rebecca lifted the cuffs out of the box. “These are sterling silver, hypoallergenic”—she pressed a trigger and opened one cuff—“velvet-lined, and best of all”—she pressed another trigger to open the second cuff—“they have these handy little release buttons, so you’ll never get stuck. I think the market will go crazy for them, don’t you?”
“I—I don’t know what to say.” Inappropriate was the only word that sprang to mind.
Rebecca laughed. “Look at you, blushing. Please. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. My children are adults, and I know they have sex. I’d be worried if they didn’t. After all, a satisfying sex life is integral to health and happiness. Why wouldn’t I support that?”
She hoped it was a rhetorical question because she couldn’t come up with a proper response. Nothing in her admittedly limited etiquette handbook covered this scenario. Just take the gift, say thank you, and get the hell out of here before things get really—ha—off the chain. “Well, um…thank you. They look very…durable.” Shit.
“They are. Those beauties will hold up to anything. And I do mean anything. Best Life puts every product we develop through rigorous testing.”
“That’s…” She shut the box, fit the lid back on top, and struggled for a word to get her out of this encounter without further discussion on the merits of fancy handcuffs. “…reassuring. Thanks again, for the, uh, thoughtful gift.” With that graceless stammering hanging in the air, she took a step away from the table.
“Wait.” Rebecca offered the bag. “Don’t forget the rest.”
“The rest?” Laurie’s arm went on autopilot, and she watched like a spectator as Booker’s mom looped the silk cords of the bag handle around her outstretched fingers.