Page 13 of RAKEish

“We meet at last,” Doc said, her voice a smooth blend of professionalism and subtle challenge. She extended her slim hand. “I’m Dr. Luxury Stone.”

Scott, recovering from his initial shock, stepped forward and took her hand. “Scott Landshire.”

“Enough with the niceties,” Frankie interjected briskly. “Sit already.”

As they both took their seats, Scott assessed Doc.

Her confident posture was a sharp contrast to her dowdy appearance, a mismatch in the stylish and extravagant office where framed covers of the magazine’s impactful fashion legacy covered the walls.

Frankie cleared her throat, drawing his gaze to his boss. She’d leaned back in her chair, the corners of her mouth twitching with a hint of mean amusement. “Scott, Dr. Stone came to me yesterday with a proposition to avoid our suing her employer for the harm she’s done to your brand.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “And what might that be? An admission of guilt followed by a heartfelt apology?” He laced his tone with a mix of sarcasm and genuine curiosity.

Frankie shook her head, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Nothing so mundane. She proposes a challenge—to win your heart in ten days using the very methods you’ve advocated.”

Scott almost laughed, mistaking the moment for a joke, but he stopped short. Frankie never joked around. Revenge, on the other hand…

He glanced at his nemesis. “That’s quite the pitch. Very clever.” The fact it was to happen in ten days meant someone had clued her in to Frankie’s fondness for that movie. “Unfortunately, your pitch has a major flaw.”

“And that is?” Frankie asked, her eyes gleaming.

“For my methods to work, there must be an initial spark between the two players.” He glanced at Doc. “Do you feel a spark?”

“Everything about Your Royal Rakeness makes me spark,” she replied immediately. “And I was under the impression I did the same for you, since you whined to your boss that I’d hurt your feelings and embarrassed you.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at her accusation. “I most certainly did not complain—”

“Sparks. Excellent,” Frankie interjected, clapping her hands in satisfaction. “We have the starting point for this to work.”

Scott shifted his focus back to Frankie. “I must be frank and say there are no sparks. Not the right kind, anyway. What you’re suggesting is equivalent to asking me to fall in love with a rock.”

Frankie’s lips tightened. “In that case, the challenge will be that she shall win the heart of a rake. Any rake. Does that work for you, Scott?”

Her easy capitulation worried him. She had an ace stashed away somewhere. He could only assume it was tucked away to help him win. Not that he would stand back and allow her to cheat on his behalf. “Do you have additional guidelines for us to follow?”

“Of course I do. First, the challenge will be titled: How to Win A Rake in Eight Days.”

“Eight?” Scott said. “Why not ten?”

“Not that I owe you an explanation,” Frankie replied coldly, “but because ‘a Rake in Eight’ has a nice ring to it. Now, if you’re done interrupting, I’ll continue. Dr. Stone will employ a series of techniques you’ve discussed over the past year. At the end of eight days, I expect a rake to be head over heels for her.”

Head over heels was not necessarily love. “She can’t successfully use my techniques without prior coaching,” Scott said. “I suggest a month of coaching, followed by eight days of her executing them on a rake.”

“I’ve read your column. Any monkey can execute them with very little guidance.” No hint of a smile appeared on Frankie’s lips to soften the coldness of her statement. “A month is absolutely out.”

“I can assure you my methods may sound simple in theory.” Scott struggled to keep anger out of his voice. “In practice, they take work.”

“Are you implying Dr. Stone isn’t intelligent enough to pull them off?” Frankie asked.

“Asshole,” Doc said under her breath, but not so quiet he couldn’t hear.

“Capturing the heart of a rake is nothing like capturing the heart of the everyday Joe.” He spoke directly to Doc. “The rakes of Manhattan are sophisticated and are intrigued by cosmopolitan women. An amateur will never win their heart.”

“That sounds like a you problem, Scott,” Frankie said. “Figure it out. You’ve got eight days.”

“And if I fail?” he asked, his jaw clenched.

Frankie’s expression turned calculating. “I trust that won’t happen.”

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