CON MAN Read online

  My eyes followed hers toward the sidewalk at our feet where I took notice of the brown splatter that was seeping into her beige, high-heeled shoes. “Oh man. I’m so sorry.”

  Great. This was exactly what I needed to start my day. And I was pretty sure the brick wall I’d just collided with didn’t appreciate the start to her day, either.

  Her head was down so I couldn’t see her face, but her body already told me she was a big girl—only a few inches shorter than me and almost as broad—draped in a long, beige blazer.

  She swiped a hand over her forehead and pulled her shiny, black hair back in a fist as her head rose. I was met with an incredible pair of dark brown eyes that were smiling as they met mine. “I was really looking forward to that coffee.”

  Relief washed away my guilt as I saw her handling my attack with grace and humor. “Well, lucky for you, I just happen to know where you can get another one.”

  I offered to replace her drink and she accepted, so I held out the door for the both of us to go back inside. I put in the order for our coffees, then handed over a stack of napkins I’d grabbed from the dispenser.

  She immediately bent over to blot at her shoes, but gave up almost as quickly, sighing as she straightened. “These are suede. I might be screwed, here.”

  “I’m really sorry. I’ve got a shoe guy if you’ll let me get them cleaned for you.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “You have a shoe guy? Who has a shoe guy?”

  “I do, I guess,” I said through a snicker.

  “Is he nearby? I’ve really got to get to the office.”

  “Westchester.”

  The look on her face went from impressed to discouraged as we grabbed our coffees and headed back outside. “Fancy. But that doesn’t do us much good from midtown.” She hitched her bag over her shoulder and held her cup out toward me in a toast. “Thanks for the coffee, though.”

  She turned to walk away as I stood there, feeling really bad about ruining her shoes... But then, inspiration struck. I checked my watch, realizing I’d be pushing the limits of my time constraints, but found myself calling out anyway. “Hey, listen. There’s a shoe store around the corner. Let me buy you a new pair and then I’ll take these to my guy. I’ll get them back to you, good as new.”

  She turned toward me slowly, raising the same skeptical brow at me as she’d done before. “A man I just met wants to buy me a new pair of shoes so he can take my used ones. Hmmm. You don’t have any kind of weird foot thing, do you? Is this your scam? Randomly spilling coffee on women’s shoes so you can do weird stuff with them at home?”

  She was feisty. I had to give her that much. I kept my smile at bay as I explained, “A man you just met feels extraordinarily guilty for ruining said shoes and would like to make things right.”

  Her wary smile turned into a full grin. “Well, hell, I’d be an idiot to turn down a new pair of shoes. Lead the way!”

  We walked around the corner to Broadway, and I directed her into Kate Spade. We were greeted by an overly enthusiastic sales clerk who said his name was Colin as my new friend wandered around the showroom. She wasted no time before pointing to a pair of gold, high-heeled sandals, and Colin scurried off to retrieve the selection in her size.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.

  “Of course. Why would you ask?”

  “I’m just not sure you’re fully aware of where you brought me. This isn’t exactly Payless.”

  The comment had me snickering as I found a place to sit. I figured this might take a while.

  She pulled off her beige blazer to reveal a matching short-sleeved blouse and tailored skirt. Both pieces of clothing hugged her curves and showed off her shape.

  Huh.

  My first impression out on the sidewalk had been that she was fat, but I soon realized that my first impression hadn’t been quite right. While she definitely had some extra meat on her bones, the better description would actually be... voluptuous. A larger version of a typical hourglass figure—huge tits and rounded hips; a sizeable, luscious ass.

  The chick was a bombshell.

  I wished I’d met her as one of my clients. Shave sixty or seventy pounds off this woman and she could be a knockout. Healthy, shiny, black hair that fell in thick waves over her shoulders. Smooth, caramel-brown skin. Mischievous, deep, dark-chocolate eyes. Full lips. Decent teeth.

  Colin came back with the box of her chosen shoes, and my new friend pulled out the pair of sandals. She bent over to strap them around her ankles, and I couldn’t help but to catch a glimpse of cleavage. I’d barely snuck a peek when she raised her head and caught me.

  “I know my tits are mesmerizing, but try to control yourself.”

  I chuckled and held my hands up.

  She smirked as she straightened, checking out her feet in the wall mirror. Women are seriously entertaining as all hell whenever they try on new stuff. The pose is always the same: Hands on hips, three-quarter turn from the mirror, head cocked to the side. This woman was no exception.

  I watched her twirl her ankle as she assessed her feet with a satisfied pout. “I think these will do.” She picked her stained heels off the floor and packed them into the box before handing the whole shebang over to me. “And lucky you, they’re on sale,” she said, tapping at the price sticker. “You got off easy.”

  I couldn’t control the snicker that escaped my throat. This chick was a piece of work. “The entertainment value alone was worth twice as much,” I said, shooting her a playful smirk. Babes always loved the smirk, and I figured why not give this girl a thrill?

  She took one look at my smoldering mug and let out with a disappointed, “Man, do you really know how to spin a line of bullshit.”

  The fact that she saw right through me immediately had me busting out in a laughing fit. Crash and burn! So much for my foolproof move.

  Once I regained my composure, I checked my watch and realized I was officially running late. “Okay. Bullshit aside, we both have places to be this morning.” I held the box up between us. “My guy will need a few days with these. I’ll be in touch when I hear from him. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sure does. Here. Give me your phone.” She held her hand out toward me, so I dug my phone from my breast pocket and forked it over. I settled up at the register as she punched her number in, shaking her head and saying, “Don’t make me regret this, Shoe Freak. If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to assume the worst.”

  She handed it back to me and I checked her name. “Mia Cruz,” I said, quickly shooting her a text. “My name’s Luke Taggart. Pleasure doing business with you.”

  WEEK ONE: ASSESSMENT

  Come up with a plan of action

  Set a workout schedule

  Meet with nutritionist to lay out a diet plan

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ainsley’s and my first meeting yesterday was more of an interview, a free consultation. Today, our second appointment was about nailing down a schedule and hammering out the details.

  We chose the lobby of the TRU Times Square to chat about the game plan. The TRU was a modern, impressive hotel right in the heart of the city, and one of the few places where I suggested my clients check in for the duration of our time together—whether they lived near here or not. It was always easier to access my clients when I knew where to find them, plus the seclusion from their friends and family allowed for complete immersion in my program. Since Ainsley lived all the way out in Westport anyway, the temporary move was a necessity.

  There were a few seating areas set up, small clusters of white couches at right angles to one another with low, marble tables anchoring each conversational space.

  I had just made myself comfortable on one of the sofas when Ainsley glided in. Even from across the room, she was easy to spot. A girl like that couldn’t go unnoticed if she tried.

  And hell if she didn’t try her damnedest.

  Ramrod straight posture, save for her head, which was pointed toward her claspe
d hands. Somehow, she navigated across the expansive lobby, walking toward me as if she were anticipating a communion wafer before nodding in my direction and lowering herself primly... to a completely separate couch from mine.

  We can share a couch, sweetheart. I don’t bite.

  I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this beautiful little wallflower was only weeks away from full bloom. I’d make sure of that. It wouldn’t be a problem so long as I concentrated solely on my work over the next two months. It wasn’t like I could act on my attraction to her before then anyway.

  The thing was, I didn’t date my clients. Ever. It was the second most important rule I had for myself. Not only would it be a breach of trust, but it would be pretty sleazy as well. These women paid me a lot of money for professional help. Taking advantage of that situation would be wrong on a lot of different levels.

  Once our eight weeks were up, however...

  “Good morning, Ainsley. Have you settled into your room okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, thank you. I’ve never been here before. It’s lovely.”

  You’re lovely, I thought. But instead of voicing my compliment aloud—which would have had her bolting from the sofa quicker than had it burned her—I switched gears in an attempt to open her up. “I’m glad you like it.” I checked the impulse to cover her hands with one of my own, and instead resorted to teasing. “Have you been to the restaurants yet? The pool? The bars?”

  My questions caused a slight grin to slip through. “No, can’t say as I have.”

  “Lemme guess,” I said through a smirk. “Room service alone in your suite last night?”

  That caused her to smile even wider as she finally met my eyes. “You must be psychic.”

  I was struck all over again by those gorgeous blue eyes staring into mine. Was it just me or was she finding it just as hard to look away? The girl was positively beautiful, no two ways about it. I couldn’t wait for the day that I would have those eyes looking at me with more than just curiosity.

  Until then, we had some details to discuss.

  I pulled some papers from my briefcase and slid them across the table toward her. “This is just a preliminary contract to get us started,” I explained. “It’s a general list of the services I’ll be providing and a rundown of what’s expected of you as a client. I’ll draw up a more comprehensive agreement next week once we have a customized schedule in place.”

  She scanned through the pages as I tried to ignore the charming way she chewed her bottom lip. I was wondering what it would be like to chew that lip for her until her question jogged me out of the vision. “Umm... What’s this at Number Four?” she asked. “Client will actively participate in all agreed-upon assignments regardless of his or her personal opinions, doubts, or misgivings about said assignment. Sounds rather... authoritarian of you.”

  I chuckled and explained, “That’s just a fancy way of asking you to trust me. Remember when we talked about stepping outside your comfort zone? We won’t get anywhere if we’re constantly butting heads over your assignments. I’ll need you to be open to new experiences.”

  Ainsley mulled that over before answering, “You want me to be a willing participant in this huge change to my life, is that right?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I was a bit blown away by her enthusiastic surrender, so I was unprepared for her mischievous blue eyes as she looked up and asked, “Okay… So what would you change about me?”

  “Nothing.”

  My reply was returned automatically. Unthinkingly. Dangerously.

  Dammit.

  Ainsley’s vacant gaze sliced through me as I cleared my throat and added, “What I meant is that you’re very beautiful already. I don’t claim to be able to improve on what God has already graced you with.”

  Smooth, Taggart.

  Her cheeks actually flushed as she looked down at her lap. “Thank you.” She let out with a little giggle and added, “That’s very effective.”

  “What is?”

  “The way you just dive in like that.” When my eyebrows drew together in confusion, she clarified, “Instilling confidence right from the very beginning. Saying things to make your clients feel good.”

  “I don’t… It wasn’t a line. I didn’t say it just to make you feel good.” When I was met with her crestfallen face, I realized I must have sounded like a world class jerk. “But I’m glad it did,” I amended truthfully.

  Jackass.

  “So,” I started in, trying to bring the conversation back around to business. Exclusively business. “This is normally the part where we discuss what you’re hoping to get out of working with me.”

  “Well, I’m not sure exactly. As I’ve already mentioned, I’m too introverted, so maybe I thought you’d help me come out of my shell?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Because, right now, I mean… I have the hardest time talking to men,” she admitted in a near-whisper, as if she were mortified to say such a thing aloud.

  “You seem to be doing okay in that department.”

  “If I had to pay this much to every man I wanted to have a conversation with, I’d go broke!”

  Her response was so unexpected that I found myself sputtering out a laugh. “It’s easier to talk to me because you’re paying me?”

  She shrugged and answered, “It’s easier to talk to you because I’m not trying. You asked me to be honest, and honest is easier than charming.”

  Her honesty was charming. It was interesting as all hell to see her relaxing into our conversation, saying what was really on her mind. I got the impression that she was finally allowing herself to speak freely for the first time this morning, maybe the first time ever in her life. As proud as I was about it, I didn’t want to scare her off by calling her out for it just yet. “We’ll work on upping your conversation skills with the opposite sex. Anything else?”

  “Yes.” She lowered her head and spoke the next part toward her clasped hands. “I want to be… I want to be sexy. I never learned how to do that.”

  I knew it was hard for her to voice such an admission, and I was humbled that she already trusted me enough to say what she was really thinking. The good thing was, my program didn’t work if a client wasn’t willing to put themselves completely out there, and the fact that Ainsley was already diving in headfirst was encouraging.

  The problem was, she was already incredibly sexy.

  I could have told her as much, but that would have started me down a slippery slope. I barely had a hold over my attraction to her as it was. “I think you’ll learn a lot of new things by the end of this,” I said, dodging the bullet. “So,” I added, getting us back on track. “I never did find out what brought you to me.”

  I didn’t realize until long after our first meeting yesterday that I had interrupted her when she tried to tell me about her reasons for coming to see me. I was so stunned by how gorgeous she was that I overcompensated by trying to come off as a know-it-all. But one of the most important lessons I could impart was teaching a woman how to find her own voice. It wasn’t too late to start over.

  “I saw your website. I read the testimonials. You seemed like the guy to go to.”

  “Thank you, but I meant what prompted your search in the first place?”

  She hesitated for a brief pause, placing the contract across her lap and scrunching her brows, trying to find the right words. Finally, she just gave a shrug and went for it. “Well... I guess you could say I’m... husband hunting.”

  Husband hunting? Shit!

  I don’t know why I was so surprised; most of my clients came to me for that very reason. But dammit, I guess I was blinded by my own lust for this particular client.

  Didn’t mean the revelation wasn’t a blow to my ego, however. I thought she was into me. I mean, it seemed like a foregone conclusion. When you think about it, we actually owed it to the greater good to hook up. It was defying the natural order of things for two beautiful people to deny themselves the plea
sure of each other’s bodies.

  But Jesus. I couldn’t imagine she was gearing up to fuck me if her sights were set on husband hunting. I hadn’t yet sorted out the part of my brain that was screaming to “get this woman into bed immediately.” My thoughts hadn’t danced anywhere near “lifelong commitment.”

  But that’s obviously what she was looking for.

  We were clearly not on the same page.

  I kept my displeasure in check as I responded, “I can’t imagine it will be a very difficult hunt. Guys must be lining up for a chance to be with you.”

  Her lips turned up slightly as she shook her head. “You sure are smooth about it, I’ll grant you that.”

  Her comment caught me off guard, and my brows furrowed in confusion. “Smooth about what?”

  “Luke, it’s okay. Stop trying to sell me on this little adventure. I’m already in!”

  Despite my frustration with the situation, I was pleased to see Ainsley’s enthusiasm. I handed her a pen and she happily signed her name in a swirly, feminine script. But then, in a zealous burst of joy, she raised the contract to her face and planted a kiss on the corner.

  And that was it. That’s what did it. I lost my shit when I saw that goddamned lipstick stain on the paper. That little pink kiss pushed me right over the fucking edge.

  I’d never had such an instant chemical reaction to a woman before. I’d been attracted to plenty of girls over the years, but with Ainsley? It was primal. I almost couldn’t control myself.

  I wanted to comb my fingers through her hair, pull her in for a kiss, slip my tongue between those gorgeous pink lips. I wanted to slide my hand up her skirt, lay the both of us down on the sofa, sink myself into her. I wanted to take her back to her room and spend the next twelve hours exploring every inch of her perfect body, maybe let her wrap those pink lips around me, maybe return some lip service of my own...

  Jesus. I had to get out of there before I did something stupid.

  I shook my head to rid myself of the vision and shifted in my seat, trying to focus on the task at hand. Ainsley didn’t sign on for this. She didn’t ask to be the target of my bizarre infatuation. She came to me for help, and I’ve done nothing but drool over her since the first minute I met her. She deserved better than that.