Not Just Another Romance Novel Read online

  I wasn’t about to bring her up, though. Not when her presence had finally left our conversations.

  We settled in on his couch to chat some more. The conversation was flowing now, and the awkwardness had left. He put his feet up on the coffee table, and I kicked off my heels and followed suit. I felt relaxed with him. I could see nights like this in our future. Piper would be asleep in her room while the two of us talked about our days on the couch, sipping wine and laughing.

  It would be an insta-family, and I could be the one Jason was looking for. I’d never run off with my boss and leave him and his adorable daughter the way his ex had.

  So I may have been getting ahead of myself again. Just a tad. But I really liked Jason, and as he scooted a little closer to me and that delicious cologne mauled my senses, I really wanted him to kiss me.

  I leaned a little closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. We both stared ahead at the television, even though it wasn’t actually on. I closed my eyes, comfortable already with this man I’d just met. And then I wondered for just a second if Piper’s visit at her aunt’s house was of the overnight variety or if Jason would have to go pick her up at some point.

  “What cologne do you wear?” I asked suddenly.

  “Some stuff my ex bought me.”

  Oh God. He still wore the cologne she bought for him. That couldn’t be good. I brushed it off. Well, the wine allowed me to brush it off.

  But damn, it smelled like my own version of heaven. I closed my eyes and breathed him in.

  “You like it?” he asked tentatively.

  “I love it,” I said without thinking.

  I froze the second I said it, my eyes popping open. Did I really just tell the DILF that I loved his cologne? Did I actually use the word “love” with someone I’d just met?

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  Apparently it turned on DILF Jason, because he sat up slowly, took my wineglass from my hand, and placed it on the table in front of us. And then he reached up with his hand and cupped my cheek, his eyes giving him away.

  He wanted me.

  His smoky and smoldering gaze pinned me to my seat.

  He moved in closer to me, and my eyes closed as I waited for his lips to connect with mine.

  When they did, I was not disappointed.

  Those full, perfect lips did some magic on my own. He kissed me hungrily, his lips moving over mine firmly. And then his tongue parted my lips, aggressive and somehow slow and tender at the same time.

  He was a really, really good kisser.

  I moaned incoherently into him, a signal that I wanted more. He slowly pushed my upper body so I was lying on my back on his couch. His lips never left mine, and the hand that cupped my cheek never left my face, but his other hand moved down the length of my body, slow and steady like his lips. His hand grazing my body sent bolts of lightning through my torso.

  In that moment, if he tried to get me to sleep with him, I without a doubt would’ve given it up.

  I hadn’t had any action in far too long. My last actual date before this had been well over a year earlier. I’d been too focused on my studies during my first year in graduate school to worry about dating.

  That was sort of a lie.

  I’d been too busy reading romance novels instead of experiencing my own romance. I’d been holed up because I’d been hurt when I found out the guy I’d been dating my senior year of college was also dating three other women at the same time. I’d written off men for a little while, but I was undeniably ready to hop back into the game.

  I’d only had one semi-serious relationship, if you could even call it that, with my high school sweetheart. Brian and I had started dating when my sophomore year, and we made it all the way to our freshman year in college. We parted ways when the distance factor tore our young love apart.

  I dated casually throughout college, but I’d never really found anyone who made my heart race. Even Brian hadn’t, really. Looking back, I had thought it was love at the time. Now that I was a little older and had experienced a little more of the world, I realized that at fifteen, I didn’t really know what love was.

  I still didn’t, but I knew someday I would. I’d get the flutters I read about in my books every time my man walked into the room. Our eyes would always search for each other’s. He would talk to his friends about how much he missed me when we were apart. It would be the storybook romance, but it would be my life.

  I was waiting semi-patiently for it to happen, and this project was a vehicle to figure out if it was even a possible reality.

  And I was only at the beginning.

  I moaned again, a little louder this time, as Jason’s lips left mine to move down my neck. Oh God, my neck.

  It was my secret zone that caused all coherent thought to fly right out the window.

  With hands and lips like that, Marathon Runner DILF Jason could do whatever the hell he wanted to me.

  As his lips dragged down the sensitive flesh of my neck, Jason emitted a tiny sigh of satisfaction. My fingers made their way up into his short hair. It wasn’t long enough to grab, but it felt soft under my fingertips. And then following Jason’s satisfied sigh, he softly whispered a name.

  Only it wasn’t my name.

  “Oh, Elise.”

  Oh, fuck.

  9

  I crossed DILF off my list and pondered what to try next. Dax and I weren’t setting up our date until the weekend. I hadn’t even begged Austin for Dax’s number yet—a fact of which I was exceedingly proud.

  I spent some time scrolling the internet, trying to determine if there were any eligible CEO billionaires nearby I could orchestrate a chance encounter with. That thought reminded me of Jason, and I couldn’t help but think what might have been with the DILF if we’d only met a couple of months later.

  He had apologized profusely for his slip-up, and I apologized profusely that I couldn’t be his rebound girl. I told him to give me a call in a few months, when his head was on a little straighter.

  Turns out his wife had only left him a couple of weeks earlier. He wasn’t ready to date, but he was, admittedly, lonely. I’d explained how I wasn’t the type of girl he was looking for, and he nodded sadly as he walked me to my car.

  I scrolled through a list of eligible San Diego bachelors. They were all old, much too old for me. Even for my research purposes. And most weren’t billionaires. It was okay, though. I’d settle for a millionaire.

  And then my eyes landed on Conrad Greene.

  CEO of Greene Apps, he was a self-made millionaire who ventured into creating apps for businesses when smart phones were still relatively new.

  And he was sexy as hell.

  He fit the stereotypical description of a perfect man: tall, dark, and handsome. He towered over the others in the photo with him by at least two inches. I guessed him to be somewhere around six feet, four inches. He had these brilliant green eyes, dark hair, and dark scruff. And handsome…Jesus, yes. Definitely handsome.

  He was younger—early thirties at the oldest—and dressed sharply in an expensive suit. I stared at the picture, wondering what sort of perfection he had hidden under that suit.

  I only had one question. How the hell was I supposed to procure a date with CEO Sexy?

  I ran an image search on him. I discovered two things: a different woman held his arm at every event and he was hotter than hell in every single picture.

  I certainly had no chance with a man who looked like that, but I would use to use my knowledge of mainstream erotica for this one.

  I searched the Greene Apps website for contact information and eventually found a phone number. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. I hit the call button before I lost my nerve.

  I really should’ve taken a shot of tequila before making this call.

  “Greene Apps International, this is Mary speaking. How may I direct your call?”

  “Hi, Mary. I’m looking for the secretary to Mr. Greene.”

  �
��For what purpose, ma’am?”

  Shit. What was my purpose, exactly? I couldn’t tell sweet old Mary I wanted a date with the CEO. So I lied.

  “An interview.”

  “Please hold.”

  That worked? That actually worked? I took a deep breath while I listened to some soothing instrumental elevator music on hold.

  “Alice McClelland for Mr. Greene.” A strong voice cut through the soothing instrumental.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. McClelland. My name is Piper Andrews. I’m a student at San Diego State University and I’m looking to interview Mr. Greene.”

  “God Almighty. Ever since that movie came out, every little girl with a college ID thinks she can just set up an interview to get into his pants. Frankly, it’s getting old. Sorry, sweetie, but Mr. Greene isn’t interested in interviews or relationships with college kids. Okay?”

  The call cut off.

  She hung up on me.

  Alice McClelland hung the fuck up on me!

  I stared at my phone in shock. Clearly that was not about me. Clearly she’d been fielding calls left and right because people had read a book or seen a movie and wanted their chance at an elusive millionaire bachelor.

  But I was different. I didn’t really want to interview him. I just wanted one tiny little date.

  Incensed, I called back. I got through the operator who answered and then back to Alice.

  “Alice McClelland for Mr. Greene.” Her voice sounded exactly the same. I wondered how many calls she answered each day.

  “Ms. McClelland, I’m so sorry, but I believe our call was cut short. Piper Andrews calling again.”

  Alice huffed into the phone. “They usually don’t call back after I hang up.”

  She was kind of a bitch, and I kind of liked that about her. I couldn’t wait to meet her. Someday she could be my secretary, too. You know, when I started working with my husband every day at Greene Apps.

  “I’m actually working on my master’s thesis, and I just want five minutes of Mr. Greene’s time for a few questions. That’s all.”

  She sighed with frustration. “He’s a very busy man.”

  “I understand that. I promise not to take up more than five minutes. This would really help my research.”

  “He has a five minute opening on the twenty-fifth of November at eight in the morning.”

  I pushed away the momentary shock I felt that she’d actually given me an appointment. I glanced at my calendar. It was over three weeks away. It took three weeks to book five minutes with this guy? A relationship with him would never pan out, but it was worth a shot.

  “I’ll take it. Thank you so much, Alice.”

  “It’s Ms. McClelland. Don’t be late.”

  I was just about to reply how I wouldn’t dream of being late when she cut the call. Again.

  Bitch.

  *

  Scott passed my list back to me. “So who’s next?”

  I shrugged. “Know any cowboys?”

  He shook his head with a laugh. “I think you’d have a pretty hard time finding a cowboy in San Diego, but I’ve never looked for one.”

  I took a sip of my coffee and read through my list again. “What about a racecar driver?”

  He shook his head.

  “Professional athlete? I’m not picky. Any sport.”

  “Sorry.” He twisted his lips as he shook his head, and I giggled.

  He lifted his coffee to his lips for a sip.

  “Should I experiment with a lesbian?”

  Coffee actually sprayed out of his mouth and all over the table, and I couldn’t help the very unattractive snort of laughter that escaped me at his reaction. My snort sent him into a fit of laughter.

  When he calmed down enough to speak, he asked, “Do you want to experiment with a lesbian?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe that’s where my happy ending is. Seem to keep striking out with the men.”

  Somehow that tickled Scott’s funny bone. Austin and Shannon walked in together, and that’s how they found the two of us—laughing hysterically with recycled coffee all over our table.

  “What’s so funny?” Shannon asked, sitting in the seat beside me. She folded her hands on top of the table. Right on top of the coffee Scott had spit everywhere. “Ew. This table is disgusting.”

  Scott winked at me, and I burst into another fit of giggles.

  Austin and Shannon went to order while Scott cleaned up the table, and I returned my attention to my list.

  Once everyone was seated, I listed off a few more romantic heroes from the books in the hopes that one of my friends knew someone or at least had some connection that could help me.

  “Biker?”

  Austin looked up thoughtfully.

  “You know a biker?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Not personally, but I know of an MC.”

  “What’s an MC?” Scott asked.

  “Motorcycle Club,” both Austin and I said at the same time.

  “It’s basically a group of guys who ride motorcycles and share a brotherhood,” Austin said.

  Scott nodded. “Is it legal?”

  “The club itself is legal. It’s not illegal for a group of men to hang out together. But from what I’ve heard, the majority of the business they do is under the table or illegal.”

  “What kind of business?” I asked.

  “Drugs, weapons.” Austin looked me in the eyes. “And lots of sex.”

  Did it get about a hundred degrees warmer when he said that?

  Sure felt like it did.

  “Maybe you should cross biker off that list,” Scott said. He was adorably overprotective of me. “It sounds dangerous.”

  “It sounds hot as hell.” Shannon smiled at me. “If you’re looking for company, I’m in.”

  Scott rolled his eyes. “Great. Just what we need. You two crazies running around some dangerous and illegal biker club.”

  I winked at Scott. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to come, too. You can be our beard. You can go in and pretend you want to join and we’ll be your arm candy.”

  “Austin’s the one who knows about the club, not me. Make him do it.”

  “Oh, come on, Scott. Please? You can keep an eye on both of us and make sure we’re safe.” I ended my sentence in a singsong I knew he’d never deny.

  “The point is moot,” Austin said. “I’ve heard of a club, but I don’t know anything about it. A friend of my cousin dated a guy who practically lived there. All I know is there’s one around here somewhere.”

  “That’s a connection, at least,” I pointed out.

  Austin shrugged. “Not really. I don’t even talk to my cousin that often.”

  “I have an idea,” Shannon piped up. We all turned to look at her. “What if we just find a group of guys on motorcycles and follow them? They’ll lead us right to their club!”

  I stared at her like she had eight heads.

  I couldn’t even think up a sarcastic comment on the spot because the idea was so dumb.

  Scott replied first, his voice oozing with sarcasm. “Smashing plan, Shannon.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” she whined.

  Scott sighed. “Well first, finding a group of men riding motorcycles will be super easy here at SDSU, and second, obviously all men who ride motorcycles will lead you to a club.”

  Shannon frowned.

  “He’s right, Shannon,” I said. “I may have to cross off the biker for now.”

  “We’ll find you one, Piper. I’ll do some research.” Shannon nodded her head with vigor, and I didn’t doubt she would help me out.

  *

  I didn’t have much time to focus on finding dates for a few days because of school. I was taking fifteen hours of classes. In addition to Stats and Clinical Psych, I was also taking Developmental Psychology and Research. Stats was killing me. It was a six hour class, which meant we met twice a week for three hours at a time.

  Thank God for Scott.

  He was the only
reason I had a passing grade.

  We had our first exam coming up at the end of the next week, and I still had no clue what the fuck a bivariate correlation was.

  But this test accounted for thirty percent of my overall course grade, so I needed to do well on it.

  That meant Scott and I spent a lot of time between the library, my apartment, or the apartment he shared with Austin while he basically taught the material to me in terms I could understand. Romance terms.

  “It’s just the relationship between two variables,” he said. I sat on my couch in yoga pants and a t-shirt with my legs folded under me, and he sat next to me. “Two things occur together, so they’re linked. For example, let’s say you went out with a DILF and a bad boy. If your dates with both the DILF and the bad boy failed, what’s the link?”

  “Me. I’m the constant.” He nodded and smiled. I felt good I’d gotten the answer right, but not as good about where this example was going. “The constant of fucking up my love life,” I muttered.

  He rolled his eyes. “Want some wine and cheese at your pity party?”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Good one,” I threw back sarcastically, holding my hand up for a high-five.

  He slapped my hand. Then he chuckled and his blue eyes sparkled behind those black frames in my direction for a minute before we returned to bivariates.

  Was that eye sparkle new?

  I had to be imagining things.

  Even so, that little sparkle caused me to look at Scott through a new lens. He was intelligent, which was sexy, and he also knew how to make me laugh. He was well-groomed. He had this thick, dark blond hair that always looked perfect. He had just a light smattering of scruff on his jaw, almost like he’d forgotten to shave—not like he did it on purpose to be sexy. He didn’t seem to care about his looks, yet he always looked nice and pulled together.

  Maybe I needed to add the best friend to my list of potential romances. I’d read plenty of books where the heroine was in love with her best friend and went for it. Sometimes it worked out, but other times it completely ruined the friendship.

  I wasn’t willing to risk losing my friendship with Scott.