Evan? Jess’s heart jolted against her ribcage. They’d met only once, at Evie and Liam’s wedding, and he’d left a significant mark on her. He’d made her feel special that day, which she’d desperately needed because Brent had just left her.
Evan West was Wardham’s king of wineries. An international businessman—and a dangerously sexy beast.
Also, from what Liam had said in the past, an incorrigible flirt and a ruthless playboy who never actually dated any of the women whose panties he could melt off in a single scorching glance. His date to Liam’s wedding had been a young rower named Adam—adorable and very, very masculine.
But Brent didn’t need to know that Evan was gay.
“Why not with Evan?” she asked in a rush. “If he would. Maybe he’s busy. But…”
It was a terrible idea. Terribly good, though.
Evan would make her lookamazing.Brent had never met him, and maybe, if he saw the older man on her arm…
No. She wasn’t going to try to make Brent jealous. It wouldn’t work, first of all, but if she was going to do this—ask Evan on a faux date—it would be for good old-fashioned capitalistic reasons. Business reasons. This would be a good move for her marketing consulting, and she could make it worth his while, too. London’s powerbrokers liked wine—and the wine business.
She blinked. Liam and Evie were both looking at her, because she’d trailed off. “It’s a great idea,” she said firmly.
“It’s not,” Liam said, just as firmly.
“Is this because of my history with him?” Evie stroked Liam’s cheek and Jess was torn between wanting to tell them to get a room and demanding to know how they had a conversation like that without getting mad at each other.
“What history?”
Liam shook his head. “They dated in high school. Prom king and queen, the whole nine yards. And no, of course that’s not the reason.”
“That was a long time ago, anyway,” Evie said. “Decades in the past. Now he’s my oldest, dearest friend.”
“Who you will offer up at the drop of a hat to be a high-class escort,” Liam muttered.
“That’s not how I’d put it,” Evie retorted. She glanced down at Deacon, now sleeping at her breast. “Want to put the kidlet to bed again?”
“I sure do.” He took the baby, then kissed her. “I’ll take him into our room and lie down with him for a bit. You two can talk more about this, but don’t make any crazy plans until the morning when we’re all for-sure sober, okay?”
Jess knew that was the right answer. Sleep on it, think on it… But she was already excited about the idea of showing up at the gala dinner with Evan on her arm. If he wasn’t available, she’d be crushed again in a whole new way.
And Evie wasn’t helping, the way she was watching Jess with that glint in her eye. A warm, squirmy feeling spread through her low belly.
“You dated Evan?” she asked, rhetorically, because Evie had just told her that they had. But… “That’s not at all what I was expecting you to say.”
“It was a long time ago.” The other woman paused a beat. “You’ve met him. He’s attractive. Masculine.”
Both understatements of the year. But Jess got where Evie was going. Evan could pass as a straight man, no problem.
“You just need a date for a single night, right?” Evie said. “You’re not looking for a relationship.”
Jess thought of Brent. Of dinners and tidying up and gentle, easy sex that felt nice. Of promises that didn’t come to fruition. Of lonely evenings wondering if her husband would ever lift his head out of a book. Of wild, fabulous sex that only happened in her head, and she wouldn’t even know what to do with if she had it happen for real. No, she wasn’t looking for a relationship. “A single night with a safe guy sounds about like all I can handle,” she admitted.
Even spending time with Evan on her arm would be nice. “I could introduce him to people in London. Not that he needs my business help, but…”
“Actually.” The glint in Evie’s eye was positively Machiavellian now. “He does. We do. The town does, and Evan loves this town a lot, so he’d be willing to scratch your back if you scratch ours.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s better to explain it,” her friend said breezily, waving her hand. “More wine?”
“I feel like somehow I’ve stumbled into a trap,” Jess said.
“You need a date,” Evie repeat.
