Page 3 of Reckless Desire

I laugh. She really does have my back. As the server brings our pitcher, the two ask for their bill and clear out, not giving us another glance. London rolls her eyes and we both burst into giggles.

The next hour is lighter on conversation and heavy on drinking. We laugh and I’m grateful she forces me to do these things because, as sad as my life is, she snaps me out of my funk occasionally.

I know it’s her way of dealing with the darkness in her own life, but I let her work the magic on me as well.

A few men try to make contact and join us, or order a round for us, but London scares them off with her signature ice queen look that can freeze hell. That helps me relax even more. It’s nice to have a girls’ night out. Perhaps I should have more of those.

“So when will you give me my present?” I hunch my shoulders in glee, margaritas hugging my insides with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

She checks her watch. “In about half an hour.”

I giggle. “What did you get me? Is it going to be delivered here? Are you going to embarrass me?”

“Excuse me.” She pretends to be offended, but immediately smiles and wiggles her eyebrows. She’s having way too much fun with this. “You’re having dinner with your present.”

I frown. “You got me silverware?”

Her laughter gets attention around the lobby and perhaps on the other side of the street. “No, silly, but if you need silverware, I’m buying you some for Christmas.”

We both snicker, more courtesy of our drinks than the conversation itself.

“My darling Sydney, I got you a dinner date and a room for the night here.” She smiles, scanning me with expectation.

“What do you mean? You set me up with someone? On a blind date?” And it was shaping up to be such a great evening. The worst part is I realize I’m not as opposed to the idea as I should be. I’ve definitely had too much to drink.

“Kind of.” She bites her bottom lip, the picture of innocence.

“And it’s quite presumptuous to assume we would end up sleeping together. What if I like him?” I gulp down what’s left in my glass because I can’t possibly imagine dealing with this sober. Though I’m quite tipsy already. She got me drunk first on purpose. Oh, she’s good. I frown at London, trying my best to imitate her stony stare.

“Oh, youwilllike him.” She gives me such a knowing look. Oh, for fuck’s sake, has she set me up with someone she knows well?

“Cancel the room.” I’m not hooking up with someone I’ve never met, and especially not if she knows him. Oh God, has she slept with him as well?

“Whatever for? This date is for your coochie.”

A woman passes by and turns to us, half appalled, half interested. She winks at me. What the hell?

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lo. Oh my God, did you tell him I’ll sleep with him? Is he coming assuming we would…” I think I just sobered up.

She smiles and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Oh my God, London, that is the worst birthday present ever. How could you? And why did you assume I’d even go along with that? A spa certificate would have been a reasonable gift. I’m not having sex with him.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m not setting you up with your future husband. It’s just to get you interested in men again. He has absolutely no expectation beyond tonight.”

“What do you mean? He could like me.” This evening is a nightmare.

“It’s against the rules, I think. Or just unprofessional, so you can relax and enjoy a perfect night, no strings attached. No bullshit Tinder dates. He comes highly recommended.”

“Highly recommended? Is he some sleazy player? Who recommended him?” Oh my God, a part of me wants to laugh, but I don’t think this is a prank. And London seems perfectly pleased with her present.

“His other clients,” she whispers, raising her eyebrows, as if I’m the unreasonable one here.

I want to ask her to explain, but the words spring into comprehension and I freeze. I’m not even sure if I’m shocked or angry. Or a little bit curious.

“You got me a male prostitute?” I whisper, looking around to make sure nobody can so much as read my lips.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” London swats that idea out of the air. “I got you an exclusive male escort.”

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