thanks.”
“You might meet up with the right guy.”
Tess shook her head and laughed. “I don’t believe in the right guy, Mare. Now, a truckful of not-so-right guys—that’s something I believe in.”
Mary poured herself another glass of milk. “You’re not old enough to be so cynical. How many men have you dated at twenty-five?”
“Enough to know better,” Tess said seriously, then turned to Olivia. “You and I are lucky to have escaped the noose for so long, right, Liv?”
“Oh, so lucky,” Olivia drawled as she cut squares of brownie. Olivia tried to ignore the wave of envy that moved over her heart as she recalled the tenderness in Ethan Curtis’s eyes that morning when he gave Mary a goodbye kiss at the reception desk before leaving for his office. He had looked so in love, so happy, so over-the-moon excited about their baby.
Olivia didn’t begrudge her friend the beautiful man and solid relationship, but she did wonder if it was possible for someone like her to have half of that kind of happiness. In her heart of hearts, she wanted a man—someone to cook for and love and make babies with, but odds of that kind of life coming her way weren’t great. Even though she had grown up in years, she was still very much stuck to the past. In many ways, she was still that depressed sixteen-year-old who had just lost her mother to cancer, couldn’t get her father to notice her and had escaped from her pain in the most foolish ways possible—parties and boys and sex.
The shame of what she’d done and how many boys she’d allowed herself to be used by hadn’t diminished in the ten years since, but in that time she had grown extraordinarily tough. She had also become cautious and resolutely celibate. Today, her reputation was lily-white—she was a hard-nosed businesswoman who kept the secrets of her past to herself.
“All right,” Olivia said brightly, setting two extra large squares of chocolate brownie before Tess and Mary. “These will keep your mouths occupied.”
“I believe she just told us to shut up,” Tess said with a grin.
Mary picked up her brownie and sighed. “But it was in the very nicest way possible.”
“True,” Tess said, her pale gray eyes raking the gooey chocolate square. “And for another one of these I will not only give up on the guy and marriage talk, but if asked, I will gladly roll over and pant.”
“Before you do,” said a husky male voice behind them, “just be aware that you have an audience.”
Mary and Tess whirled around in their chairs, and Olivia glanced up. Filling up the doorway with a cynical, though highly amused, expression was a man with eyes the color of espresso. He was tall and broad and was dressed impeccably in a gray pinstripe suit and black wool coat. Olivia found herself clenching her fists as she felt an irresistible urge to flip up the collar of his coat and use it to pull herself against him. The feeling was so out of character that it frightened the hell out of her and made her stomach churn with nervous energy. In the past seven years, since her self-imposed exile from sex, her body had rarely betrayed her. Sure, there had been a few late nights with a good romance novel in her bed, but other than that, nada.
As she looked at this man, every inch of her screamed Caution!
“Mac Valentine?” she said, relieved that her voice sounded steady and cool.
He nodded. “I think I’m early.”
“Only by a few minutes,” she assured him. “Please come in.”
As he walked toward them, his stride runway-model confident, both Mary and Tess stood and offered him their hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Valentine,” Mary said evenly. “We were just enjoying a midmorning pick-me-up.”
“I understand.”
“Chocolate is life’s blood around here,” Mary continued warmly.
“I wondered what that amazing scent was the minute I got off the elevator.”
Tess patted Olivia on the back. “Well, that’s our resident chef’s doing. Olivia makes magic and we all get to enjoy it.”
His gaze rested on Olivia. “Is that so?”
Olivia shrugged good-naturedly. “I’ve never been good at false modesty, so I’ll just say, yes, I’m a damn fine cook.”
Amusement glittered in Mac Valentine’s dark eyes, and Olivia felt a shiver travel up her spine.
“And on that note,” said Mary, packing up the rest of her brownie and half-full glass of milk, “Tess and I will leave you in Olivia’s capable hands. Welcome to No Ring Required, Mr. Valentine.”
“Thank you.”
Tess shook his hand again, then when his back was turned grabbed another brownie, before following Mary out of the room.
Trying not to laugh, Olivia watched Mac take off his coat and lay it over an empty chair, then she gestured to the table. “Please, have a seat.” She snatched the orange platter of brownies off the counter and held it out in his direction. “Would you like one?”
He glanced up at her. “Do I have to roll over and pant?”
“Only if you want seconds.”
Mac Valentine’s eyes flashed with surprise at her quick comeback. “I’ll let you know.” Then he took a brownie from the plate.
She sat beside him and folded her hands primly. She didn’t know exactly why this man was here, but she had a feeling he brought trouble with him—several varieties of trouble. “Now, your assistant didn’t reveal much about why you’re here today when she made the appointment. Perhaps you could.”
“Of course.” He sat back in his chair. “I need you to turn my home into something far more ‘homey’ than what it is.”
“And what is it?”
“A lot of unused space.”
“Okay.”
“I have clients coming in from out of town, and I want them to feel as though they’ve visited a family man, instead of a…” He paused.
She lifted her brows. “Yes?”
His lips twitched. “Someone who has no idea what those two words really mean.”
“I see.” And she did. It wasn’t the first time she’d worked with a clueless millionaire playboy.
“I think it would be best if you saw my house for yourself.”
She nodded, her gaze darting to the untouched brownie before him. “All right. But you understand my main area of expertise is in the kitchen.”
“I was led to believe you were a multitasker.”
Why wasn’t he eating her brownie? “I am, but if it’s true homemaking you’re looking for then Tess might be a better—”
“No,”
