Page 57 of Sexy Bad Escort

“Yeah,that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I have self- confidence issues. I didn’t realizethat was my problem until tonight. But now that I do, I want to fixthem. I want to be the guy who you can envision yourself with forthe rest of your life.”

Her eyesare glassy, like she’s holding back tears. “I don’t want to be my mother. I can’t be. Mylasagna isn’t nearly good enough. And she’s so much more organizedthan I am. And while I may be a better decorator, she’s alwaysbetter at finding things on sale. And then there’s the waffles,and—”

I laugh.I can’t help it. Shenarrows her eyes and glares at me, but it still takes me a fewmoments to get the chuckles under control.

“What’s sofunny?” she demands.

“Us.”

Her browfurrows, like she’sconfused.

“Here Iam, thinking you are the most confident woman inthe world, and I’mpretty sure you thought I was super confident, too, until westarted getting serious and my mom’s stroke forced me to deal withall my family issues. So you called it quits because I wasn’tconfident enough to be able to make this relationship work. When,in reality, you’re having the exact same issue.”

She frowns.“I’m not following you.”

I leanforward and place my hand on her knee. God, it feels good totouch her again.“Ronnie, you are a far better version of your mother.”

“I am?”

Inod and give her leg asqueeze. “For the record, I think your mom is prettyspectacular.”

She stares atme, like she isn’t quite sure whether to believe me. “You do?”

I nodagain.

“If she’sspectacular…” Her eyes light up.

I laugh.“That means you’re, like,off the charts.”

Thesparkle dims. “But I don’tknow if I want to be my mother.”

I snagher hand, wrap it in both of mine. “You don’t have to be yourmother. I said you’re abetter version of her. That means you take the traits shegave you and make them your own.”

She’s staringat our hands, and I fall silent while she processes ourconversation. Without looking up, she says, “I don’t really want toleave Rent-A-Danny.”

“That’s good,since I deleted the email you sent.”

Her gazeshoots up to mine. “Youdid?”

“I want you tobe my work wife and my real wife.”

Shewhips her hand away from mine and lifts it like a stop sign.“Whoa.That’s a littlefast, don’t you think?”

Iclaspthe hand she’sholding up and use it to pull myself toward her. She shifts, tryingto move out of my way without getting out of the seat. “What areyou doing?”

“Makingup with you,” I say, wedging my ass between hers and the chair. Andthen I slide my armaround her waist and lift her onto my lap. “There. That’sbetter.”

My bodyis already responding. Mr. Happy is anticipating beingreallyhappy here shortly.

“Danny.” Shewiggles, and I groan. “Stop.”

I lift myarms. “I’m not doing anything.”

Shetwistsaround until she’s facing me, and then grabs the hem of her dressand hikes it up so she can settle on my lap with her knees pressedto the chair on either side of my thighs. “Nowthat’sbetter,” she says. And then she shimmies,and my vision blurs around the edges.

I grabherwaist to keep herfrom moving. “What?” she asks, giving me that faux innocent lookshe’s damn near perfected.

“Are we madeup?” I ask.

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