Love on Lexington Avenue(25)

“Did Oliver tell you we had a pact?” she asked, glancing his way. “Me, Audrey, and Naomi?”

He searched his memory. “Sounds vaguely familiar. Remind me.”

She placed her wooden spoon on the spoon rest and leaned against the counter. “The day of Brayden’s funeral, the day we all first met, we were all . . . hurting. Not only because he’d died, but because we’d been so blind. And we—well, Naomi—had the idea to make sure we never fall for the same bullshit again. Never let ourselves be so charmed by a guy that we can’t see him for what he really is.”

“I can’t decide if that’s smart or cynical.”

Claire shrugged. “Both, I think.”

“Why tell me?”

She studied him over her wineglass. “Just trying to figure out where you fall on the bachelor scale. Snake or one of the good ones.”

“Verdict?”

“Both, I think,” she repeated with a smile.

“I’m not sure I’ve shown you much of the good side,” he said, not at all sure why he felt the need to defend himself.

“You haven’t,” she confirmed, making him wince in regret. “But Oliver’s a good judge of character. And he likes you. And Bob likes you, and in my experience, dogs are good judges of character, too.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t had much experience with dogs.”

“Really? You want to argue with me on this?”

No. No he did not. They were making progress, and he was strangely pleased she didn’t completely hate his guts.

Scott had no intention of making any kind of move on Claire Hayes. All her talk of no-strings sex aside, she was not a woman to be bedded and left, and Scott always left. But maybe they could be friends. Of sorts.

“So you’re trying to figure out what, exactly?” he asked, taking another sip of wine, finding it was growing on him. “How to have sex?”

She leveled a peeved glare at him. “I know how to have sex. I was married.”

To an ass.

“Sure,” he granted. “But relationship sex is different from sex for sex’s sake.”

“It is?” Then she winced. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation in my kitchen, over chili, with my contractor.”

“Don’t think of me as your contractor until tomorrow morning. For now, think of me as a friend of a friend.”

“All right.” She took a deep breath, as though gathering her courage. “Friend of friend, will you set me up on a blind sex date?”

He mentally applauded himself for not laughing. “A blind sex date?”

“You know. A booty call. A one-night stand.”

Scott shook his head. “You can’t be set up by a third party for a one-night stand.”

“Why not?”

“Because it gets weird for everyone. It’s the same reason you and I will never sleep together. We care about Oliver and Naomi too much to put them in an awkward place, having to know that we’ve seen each other naked but aren’t a couple.”

She pursed her lips. “I would never sleep with you for many reasons, but . . . that’s surprisingly wise. Okay then, expert. How’d you find your one-night stands? Dating app?”

“Nope. The old-fashioned way.”

“Mail order?”

He laughed, enjoying her off-beat sense of humor. “Bars. Good, old-fashioned, belly up to the bar, have a drink, buy a drink for the girl, have a few more, take her home . . .”

“That actually works?” she asked skeptically.

“Does for me.”

“All right then,” she said, turning to face him full on. “Be my wingman.”

“No.”

“Just one time,” she said, stepping toward him, hazel eyes pleading. “I just need to see how this all works in action.”

“So you want me to help you have sex?”

He said it to irritate her and was surprised when she nodded. “Yes.”

“You do realize that goes against every male instinct, right? Setting a beautiful woman up with another man?”

“Flattery looks terrible on you,” she murmured as she pulled down two bowls. “And you don’t have to set me up. Just show me this bar scene you’re talking about, keep me away from the married men.”

He studied her, looking for traces of vulnerability, but saw only a woman who knew what she wanted.

He also knew what he wanted. He hadn’t a moment ago, but that’s the way it went with him. He acted on instinct, figured the messy stuff out later.

“I’ll do it on one condition,” Scott said.

“Name it,” she said.

“Let me design your kitchen my way. No peeking until it’s done. And no pink.”

He didn’t know why this was important, but instinct told him it was vital, even if he didn’t know why yet.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered him. “And you’ll take me out, show me how to get a guy I won’t ever have to see again after one night. Someone who, if I forget to shave my legs, I never have to come face-to-face with?”

He extended a hand. “Tomorrow night. Leg shaving optional. I’ll pick you up at nine o’clock.”

“Nine?”