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Beverly Hills, California
Davina Ferris thrummed her fingers on the table, her chin resting in her palm as she waited for her online date to arrive. Il Forno Caldo was a nice, intimate Italian restaurant within walking distance of her art gallery as well as her home. Though she’d been here a few times before and knew the food to be delicious, she wasn’t a frequent customer, so the staff didn’t know her by name.
And that was precisely why she’d chosen the establishment.
She didn’t like to think of herself as a pessimist who planned for disasters, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Online dating, so far, had proven to be very disappointing.
Not many men could measure up to the panty-wetting lover in her dreams, though. She scowled. But that subject didn’t need to be dwelled upon. The very existence of him—unattainable billionaire, vampire, the proof that she carried the crazy gene, whatever the hell he was—had pretty much ruined the last six years of her life.
She snatched a piece of warm crusty bread from the basket, smeared a large portion of butter across the fluffy center and chomped with determination. Why was she even here? She had all but abandoned online dating when this guy’s request had come out of nowhere. “You’re exactly the woman I am looking for. Let’s get together tonight. Warmest regards, Brad.”
Nothing on his profile said they had anything in common. Davina scoffed at the name for probably the tenth time. Brad. It was perfect for a fitness instructor who lived in Hollywood. But why would a personal trainer show any interest in a chubby girl like her?
“Some men like curvy women,” her mother had constantly reassured her.
She hadn’t met one yet, but sure...it was possible. Outside of L.A., maybe.
Davina snorted and glanced at her watch.
That’s it. He was fifteen minutes late. She drew one last sip from her iced tea and rose, grabbing her shoulder bag.
“Davina?” Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Fit approached the table with a cleft chin and a smile that belonged on an orthodontist’s poster. Good looking? Sure, but she was too pissed to properly acknowledge it. Though he wasn’t an exact match to his picture, he was close enough for her to assume this was her tardy date.
“Did you just call her Davina?” The woman at the adjacent table grinned like a fool.
Davina scowled. “Thumbelina’s my name. He got it wrong.”
The gal withered under Davina’s glower.
Mr. Perfect-Smile extended his hand. “Hi, I’m...Brad Jones.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re late, is what you are.” But she shook his hand anyway and sat at his encouragement.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He sat across from her and searched the restaurant. “I, uh, lost track of the time while I was working out.”
“How dedicated of you.”
He leaned closer and dropped his voice. “Did you say your name was Thumbelina? I thought your profile said—”
“I’m not really in the mood for jokes about being some billionaire’s soul mate. Okay?”
His forehead creased as if he were pondering her words before registering the connection. “Oh, right. Broderick and Davina. I get it.” His eyebrows rose. “Interesting.”
The server appeared at the table and refilled Davina’s iced tea. “Shall I get you something to drink, sir?”
“Coke...uh, water with lemon please.” Brad glanced around the room a second time, studying the other dining guests.
The server nodded and trotted away.
Davina followed Brad’s gaze. “Is something wrong?”
He snapped his head back to her. “No, not at all.”
Stop projecting your desire to avoid relationships onto the men you’re dating. Davina shoved the nagging voice of her therapist out of her mind.
He grabbed the menu and scanned the contents. “Do you eat here often?”
His index finger briefly touched his ear, and she cocked her eyebrow.
A Bluetooth speaker? Great. Nothing like live streaming Buns of Steel while they’re supposed to be on a date. “I’ve been here once or twice. The food’s good.”
Davina hid behind her menu and inhaled a calming breath. Releasing it slowly, she let the negativity flow into the universe and tried to relax just like her therapist had taught her.
The server reappeared with the water and pulled an Android tablet from his apron. Since Brad only ordered a salad as his main course, Davina played it safe and did the same. Once the waiter tapped in their orders, he scampered off to service another table.
Brad continued to survey the area, not paying much attention to Davina. She nervously shifted in her chair and wondered if he’d had second thoughts upon seeing her.
She resisted the urge to dash from the restaurant. His constant scanning was almost as if he were looking for an excuse to end the evening early.
Or she was. The jumble of confusion roiling in her gut tempted her to reach for another piece of bread.
Though many of these encounters concluded with the guy being uninterested in her after a brief dinner, at least most of them tried to make a decent effort at interacting with her. This dude seemed completely oblivious to her discomfort.
She went straight for the confrontation. “Was I not what you were expecting?”
He jerked his head toward her. “What?”
“It’s okay.” She stirred sweetener into her tea and shrugged. “I know not a lot of men aren’t crazy about girls with curves.”
“No, of course not.” He squared his shoulders and faced her, granting her his full attention. “I’m sorry if I seem distracted. I have a lot on my mind today.”
He touched his ear a second time and she fell back in her chair.
What the hell was wrong with this dude? Did he have an ear infection? A hearing aid? She straightened her spine. “I think we might have started off on the wrong foot with my negative attitude.”
“Nah, I deserved it. As you said, I was late.” Shaking his head, Brad caressed the back of her hand with his index finger. “What’s this business about guys not liking curves? You look lovely—in your picture and in person.”
Davina fought the heat rising in her cheeks and reflexively swept her hands into her lap. “Oh, nothing. Don’t mind me.” At least he was nice about ignoring her. “Speaking of pictures, I almost didn’t recognize you from yours.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Brad squeezed the lemon into his water. “You know, putting your best foot forward and all.”
“On the contrary, you look better in person.”
“Well, thanks.” He unfurled a pleasant grin. “I guess I don’t photograph so well.”
Wow. That smile did wonders for his looks and made a dimple emerge from his cheek. Of course, that only reminded her of her dream lover, who had a similar dimple. She pinched her forearm under the table to bring her mind back to the here and now.
An awkward silence stretched. Although Brad seemed to be comfortable in his own skin, Davina was growing more nervous by the moment. Why did this gorgeous, muscular man seek a date with her?
“So, your profile said you owned an art gallery?” He turned sideways in his chair and leaned his back against the nearby wall as if settling in for a long conversation. Sipping his water, he gave the room another onceover. At least he didn’t look ready to sprint.
“Yes, it’s called Eternally Yours, just a few blocks from here.”
“What kind of artwork do you showcase?”
“Mostly Renaissance, whether it’s current artists imitating the style or works from the actual period. I have paintings as well as sculptures, but I mostly display paintings.”
“Do you paint?”
She huffed. “I try. I don’t actually paint in the Renaissance style, though. My stuff is more abstract.”
“Do you sell your paintings?” Brad tracked the people who passed by their table.
“No.” Davina fidgeted in her seat, self-conscious about not having the guts to display her art until recently.
“Why not?”
“I mean I haven’t tried to sell anything yet. This Saturday will be my first showing.” Her insides churned with the anticipated event looming ever closer, and she fiddled with her napkin.
“Congratulations. I’d love to be there. Is it open to the public?” Brad glanced out the window and, once again, she got mixed signals from the guy.
Davina nodded before taking a sip of her iced tea. “It is an open show. I didn’t realize you were so into art. Your profile seemed to indicate you were very much into fitness and health.”
“And that’s the joy of learning about each other.” Another spectacular grin reached his eyes, and he touched her hand on the table beside her glass. “Mysteries to be unraveled.”
The server arrived with their food, disrupting Davina’s blushing reception of her date’s intimate comment. Dinner was enjoyable enough, but not very filling. The conversation was light and safe—weather, occupations, exploring their hobbies and interests, none of which were aligned except for his passing interest in art. He was handsome and intelligent, but there was no spark. Her therapist was going to have a grand ol’ time analyzing this date.
Brad insisted on picking up the check, despite Davina’s efforts to go Dutch, and escorted her out of the restaurant.
The pleasant October breeze did wonders to cool her nerves. Thank goodness she lived just a few blocks away. The stroll would do well to help her work through the insecurities and self-condemnation that were sure to bombard her on the way home.
Brad assessed the bustling Beverly Hills boulevard before he placed a protective hand at her elbow. “I believe you mentioned you lived close by?”
Davina tensed, but nodded.
“Shall I walk you home?”
Oh, hell. “Um, actually, I’ll be fine. But thank you.”
“I really don’t feel comfortable with you walking home alone. This is L.A. and there are a lot of crazy people around here.” His brow furrowed, and he scrutinized the busy street...again.
“You’re a gentleman but really, I’m okay.” She produced what she hoped was a confident smile, willing him to accept that she would be fine. “We’re in Beverly Hills. We’re safe enough.”
“Part of being a lady is allowing a gentleman to be a gentleman.” He winked. “I insist on walking you home.”
Okay, that was rude. “Well, to be quite frank, I just met you and there’s no way I’m going to allow a stranger—no matter how handsome and charming he may be—to learn my address. I appreciate the chivalry, and it’s nice to know it isn’t dead, but as you said...this is Los Angeles. I’d like to err on the side of caution.”
His grin seemed forced. “Fair enough. Will you at least text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe and sound?”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, fingers poised over the screen.
Davina’s mouth twisted as she considered. “Well, okay. But I’ll text you through the dating app.”
“Ah, okay. That sounds fair.” Brad executed a debonair bow. “I shall sleep soundly once I know you’re secure at home.”
Davina chortled. “Then I’ll be sure to text you as soon as I walk through the door. I’d hate for you lose any sleep.”
Brad leaned forward and, for a moment, Davina thought he was going to kiss her. His lips certainly came close enough for her to feel his breath on her mouth, but his finger went to his ear and he retreated. “Perhaps I’m moving a bit too fast. Be sure to text me with the information about your gallery showing. I’d love to be there. Good night.”
“Good ni...”
And he strolled down the street to the crosswalk like he had somewhere to go or someone to meet. Once he traversed the intersection, his pace picked up to a determined march and he touched his ear again as he disappeared around the corner.
What the heck was up with him touching his ear all the time? Was he 007 looking for his next leading lady?
Davina huffed and plopped her ass onto a spare chair at one of the sidewalk tables. She swapped her sexy sandals for the bootie socks and canvas shoes she’d tucked into her Bohemian shoulder bag her mother had crafted, complete with swirl designs and bling. She had to be imagining things or perhaps using whatever quirk he had with his ear as a focal point for her insecurities. Stashing her sandals, she moseyed down Santa Monica Boulevard, allowing the nighttime traffic and congestion to distract her from her nagging thoughts.
A man stood across the street, an opened edition of the Los Angeles Times obscuring most of his face. But his eyes were on her, not the articles. When she cocked her head to the side, he folded the paper in half and directed his attention to the newsprint.
Hrmmm.
Crossing to Bedford Avenue, she eased under the quieter atmosphere, but that was soon spoiled by the louder judgmental musings.
Davina stomped her foot on the sidewalk. Okay, brain. Knock it off. What was good about the date? Good. Not bad. And none of the woulda, shoulda, coulda crap.
She filled her lungs and blew out the caustic energy before resuming her stroll. “He was very handsome. He said I looked lovely. He seemed interested in my artwor—”
A woman across the street with a tight, blonde bun at her nape touched her ear and darted her eyes away from Davina. Her mouth moved, and she jerked on a dog leash secured to a Rottweiler, his dark fur blending into the shadows.
The hairs on the back of Davina’s neck prickled. She halted, did an about-face and headed back into traffic. Two people with a habit of touching their ear and exhibiting odd behavior? Something wasn’t right and she wasn’t about to lead anyone to her house.
At the busy crosswalk, she noticed the man with the newspaper again. His eyebrows rose when he saw her but, when the light changed, he diverted his gaze, tucking the paper under his arm and striding past her as if he had a destination in mind.
He touched the center of his ear and Davina’s heart hammered. Yazawa Japanese BBQ was just ahead, so she made a sharp detour and ducked inside her favorite restaurant.
“Hey, Davina.” The waitress paused, her mouth an “oh” of surprise. “I thought you had a date tonight.”
“Hi, Stacy. I did, but it was weird and I’m still hungry.” And totally paranoid...
Davina peered through the front window and watched the guy with the newspaper reduce his speed and casually stroll along the boulevard. He seemed to be doubling back to the street he’d just left, but on the opposite side of the avenue. Shit.
The waitress sat Davina at a window booth and slapped down a menu. “Scotch?” The brunette leaned closer. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Yeah, after that drink.”
“You got it.” Stacy scampered away.
Sushi was comfort food, and that meant Davina frequented Yazawa enough for them to know her usual choices. When Stacy delivered the Scotch, she transferred from tray to table a Philadelphia roll, ginger and wasabi with a sympathetic smile. “The usual?”
Davina nodded and sipped her Scotch as she studied Mr. Newspaper out of the corner of her eye. He’d camped at a sidewalk café table across the street and resumed reading the news. And peeking over his paper. Davina grumbled, pinched some wasabi into the shallow dish and poured low-salt soy sauce over it, mixing and stabbing her chopsticks. The tension grew as she contemplated these peculiar...spies? What else could she call them? Once she had the first mouthful of her favorite roll, though, she sighed.
Stacy made her rounds and ensured all her customers had what they needed before she returned to Davina’s table with Hawaiian and Rainbow rolls. She dropped her tray to the table and leaned her hip against the booth bench. “So, what happened?”
Davina held up her finger as her jaw worried the third mouthful of sushi. Downing a swig of Scotch, she swallowed the last bits of fish and rice and reigned in the paranoia threatening to escape through a rush of words. “Well, the date was okay. He was cute and charming, but it was just...weird.”
“Weird?” Stacy set her tray on the table.
Davina bobbed her head slowly up and down. “Yeeeaah, weird.” She shoved a piece of Rainbow roll into her mouth to give her time to think.
As calm as she could muster, she told Stacy about Brad’s obsession with people watching and how pushy he was to walk her home.
“Damn.” Davina yanked her phone from her purse. “He insisted I text him. Let me do that now before I forget.”
She rapidly pecked at the mini keyboard in the dating app. Thanks again for a lovely dinner. I’m home, safe and sound. SEND.
“Okay, so what has you all squirrely now?” Stacy sat hard on the seat across from her.
Davina’s phone buzzed.
That was fast! You live closer than I thought.
“Crap.” Her thumbs flew across her screen. I’m a fast walker. Sleep well.
Two things occurred to her. One—she might not have waited long enough to give an accurate accounting of her actual walk. And two—the time it took her to send her text could have given him a rough idea of the distance she traveled, thereby narrowing down the possibilities of which house was hers. She leaned toward the window and glanced skyward for any black ops helicopters.
Catching herself, she chanced a peek at Mr. Newspaper.
Stacy followed her gaze. “Who’s that?”
“Don’t look at him!” Davina sat erect.
The waitress jerked her head toward Davina. “Ohhhkay. Why?”
“I think that guy is following me.”
“Wha? Why?” Stacy kept her head rigid, but her eyes peered to the side like some creepy manikin in a horror flick.
“Yeah, that doesn’t look conspicuous.” Davina used her chopsticks to pluck another chunk of Philadelphia roll from her plate and savor the mouthful. Creamy-cheese goodness did wonders for the soul.
Mr. Newspaper pulled his phone from his pocket, swiped his screen and frowned. He glanced up and down the street and tossed some bills onto the table before he left.
Stepping off the curb, he touched his finger to his ear again, mouthed a few words and gave Davina one last cryptic glimpse as he dodged a sports car.
“Okay, you’re acting really kooky.” Stacy peered through the window as he rounded the building out of sight. “Who is he?”
“I haven’t a clue.” Davina leaned forward. “And a woman with a Rottweiler looked like she was watching me, too. She, this guy with the newspaper, and even my date touched his ear. Like someone was giving them instructions through a tiny earpiece.”
Stacy mirrored Davina, leaning forward. “Just tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“Is the government hiding proof of aliens?”
Wide-eyed, they stared at each other.
“I’m turning into my mother, aren’t I?” Davina tapped her bamboo sticks on her plate and shook her head. “I’m inventing a James Bond story because I’m bored.”
“Or you’re avoiding another relationship.” Stacy pursed her lips.
“You sound like my therapist.” Davina sighed. “I know, right? I can’t do this shit.” She shoved a piece of Hawaiian roll into her mouth.
A customer waved at Stacy and she patted Davina’s hand. “I gotta go, hon. We’ll chat later.”
“Uh-huh.”
After enjoying her sushi rolls, a satisfied and satiated Davina paid her check and gave Stacy a peck on the cheek before venturing out onto the street.
When she felt comfortable enough she wasn’t being followed, she ambled a few blocks and shuffled up to the front of her Tudor-style house.
Davina dragged her feet through the foyer and the flyer for her gallery event mocked her from the hall table. She groaned. There was still so much to do. Yes, her mother would be home to help, but that thought unleashed a violent tug-of-war in her heart to add to her apprehensions.
She hung her keys on the hook by the door and set her purse on top of the flyer to cover it. Cursing, she stomped upstairs to get ready for bed.
On one hand, she was excited to see her mother. It had been four tumultuous years since she’d lived at home. Having alone time instead of her being supervised by mental health staff would be the closest thing to normal they’d seen in ages. But being unsupervised also meant Mom might start talking about him.
According to her progress reports, Mom had been behaving recently. She hadn’t mentioned anything remotely unbalanced this last year and a half. Her therapist was feeling more confident about discharging her from the hospital. Those were all positive signs.
However, Davina prayed her mother wouldn’t have a relapse like she’d done two years ago. Things had been great then, just like they were now. But when Mom had seen that stupid commercial for MacDougal & Son Shipping Company, she’d started chattering crazy stuff again about how Davina and this billionaire were soul mates.
All her life, Davina’s mother had been sane, and then that damn comment had leaked from GQ Magazine about the shipping company billionaire and her world had come crashing down. Okay, so her name was Davina, just like the long-lost soul mate of Lord MacDougal. And sure, he was gorgeous. But why her mother had latched onto the idea that she was the Davina he craved was baffling. It’s not like they didn’t already have enough money. Her grandfather had been a real estate tycoon before he and Nonnie were killed in New York when the Twin Towers were attacked during nine-eleven. Her and her mother had inherited millions and a real estate empire.
Davina released an exasperated huff as she stripped off her blouse. Bringing up the death of her grandparents only compounded her sorrow. If she and her mother could just get through this weekend without any wacky mentions of Broderick, it would be a start. She needed her mother to be supportive during this big event. Davina was already nervous enough. This was her own exhibit, her first official entrance into the art world. Such an important event for them both since her mother, Amie, was the one who’d encouraged Davina’s love of art from the time she was a kid. But...
Davina buried her face in her hands. “Please, God. Keep her sane long enough to make this a special day for both of us. I want to have happy memories.” Guilt washed over her. “I’m a terrible daughter.”
Finished with her bedtime routine and in her nightdress, she climbed under the covers and stared at the ceiling. She was picking up her mother tomorrow afternoon. They would have a whole Saturday with each other, the showing was Saturday night, and then time together all day on Sunday. If things went well and Amie behaved normally without a single incident, Davina had hopes she could sign the papers to have her mother—finally—released.
She crossed her fingers until they ached and drifted off into a fitful sleep.