No Love Allowed (Dodge Cove Trilogy #1) (5 page)

“You’re right. If you string Amber along, her mother will have you two engaged by your birthday party. Which, by the way, will have servers whose sole purpose is to pour
champagne.”

The excitement in Nathan’s tone made Caleb wince. “Can we not?”

“We finally have a theme.” He gestured in a wide arc. “The Roaring Twenties. Excess to the max, baby!”

Caleb and Preston shared a groan like animals in great pain.

Nathan’s grin was pure excitement. His face practically glowed with it. “We’re going to make Baz Luhrmann weep. His movie will have nothing on what I have up my sleeve.”
Then his expression turned serious. “You know as well as I do that you can’t attend those events without a date. The sharks won’t leave you alone. It’ll be a feeding
frenzy.”

Matchmaking was the favorite pastime of the Dodge Cove elite. The one percent liked to keep wealth in the family—especially those from old money. Mothball money. If the bank accounts
didn’t match, then no go. Events turned into meat markets, putting pressure on the unattached to find their soul mates quickly or be forced to endure a merry-go-round of daughters and
granddaughters. Not a pretty sight. A lateral move, or even better, a step up were the only viable options. He thought by dating around he would have been immune to this, but it seemed the biddies
and mothers didn’t care about his reputation. All they cared about was the family he came from and how they could squeeze themselves in.

Using his fingertips, he massaged his temples. “Amber was the last available option.”

“What about Cecily?” Nate suggested.

He shook his head. “Sophomore year.”

“Tracy?” All it took was for Caleb to shoot daggers at him for Nathan to say, “Oh right, the pregnancy rumors. What a mess that was. Anastasia?”

“Didn’t her mother send her to a spa?” He sandwiched the last word in air quotes.

“Then you’re screwed. There’s no one left our age that you haven’t dated and left heartbroken. Many of them are still licking their wounds. The older ones will eat you
alive, and the younger ones . . .”

“Let’s not go there.” He rubbed his face, sudden fatigue eating him from the inside out. “I wish Tash were here. Your sister always knows what to do.”

Nathan’s lips quirked. “She’d love this. I’m pretty sure she’d tease you into the next century for being a playboy.”

“I think her exact word was
manwhore
.” He chuckled.

“We could call her,” his cousin suggested, taking out his phone.

“And ruin her ‘retreat’?”

“You’re right.” Nathan sighed. “Plus, the last thing we need is to prove to her that we turn into complete idiots when she’s gone.”

Despite the humor relieving some of his stress, Caleb couldn’t help saying, “Why does JJ have to act all fatherly now? He left me alone for so many years.”

“Has it occurred to you that this has nothing to do with being a father?” the usually restrained Preston asked bitterly, shocking the cousins into staring at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?” Nathan pressed.

Preston shrugged. “Ever since your mother died, JJ has buried himself in work.” He paused, settling those serious green eyes on Caleb. “Amber’s father is one of
JJ’s most important clients. Doesn’t he pay your father an absurd retainer?”

“Yeah,” he said. “What about it?”

Nathan clapped once, getting Preston’s meaning. “You breaking up with Amber threatened JJ’s work. That’s a deal breaker for him.”

Realization dawned on Caleb like a punch in the gut, causing him to stagger onto the opposite bench. “Messing with his work messes with him.” He groaned into his hands.
“Shit.” His gaze darted over the floor of the gazebo as he figured things out. “I bet he knew that by making me attend those events without a girlfriend I would have to fend off
unwanted attention. Christ, he’s crueler than I thought.”

“I hate to say this—”

“Then don’t,” he interrupted Nathan.

But it was useless because his cousin said it anyway. “You are so screwed.”

“Hire someone?” Preston mumbled. He had a faraway look on his face.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“If you want to avoid a repeat of what happened with Amber and the biddies setting you up with their granddaughters, hire someone to be your girlfriend for the summer.”

Nathan threw his head back and howled. He laughed so hard that he hugged himself as if he needed to keep himself from bursting.

Shaking his head, dismay clear in his expression, Preston grabbed Nathan’s arm to keep the other guy from falling off the bench.

Caleb rubbed his chin. “A fake girlfriend.” He liked the idea.

“And . . .” Nathan sucked in a deep breath, stray chuckles still escaping. “Since you’ve already cultivated your manwhore image, no one will think twice about you
bringing someone new to the parties.”

“Gee, thanks.” Caleb scowled.

“Happy to help.”

“The question is, who?” Preston asked, bringing them back to what they had already discussed earlier.

“I can’t think of anyone else.” Caleb’s hope deflated like a balloon with a small hole. “Maybe Tash knows someone?”

Nathan pursed his lips. “You’ve already dated all her friends.”

“And her friends’ friends,” Preston added.

“I think I liked it better when you were quiet.” Caleb combed his fingers through his hair. He had done that so much today he was afraid he would grow bald if they didn’t find
a solution soon.

Ignoring the jab, Preston asked no one in particular, “Who do we know that’s outside our usual crowd?”

“You want Caleb to contract this out?”

The best friends were arguing the merits of fishing out of their pond, when the image of the girl with startling brown eyes came to mind. Caleb leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and
clasping his hands together. It was a stretch. Aside from knowing her name, she was a complete stranger to him. Would she do it? Who would say yes to attending stuffy parties all summer pretending
to be his girlfriend? But she was the only one he knew on the outside. . . .

“I know that look,” Nathan said.

“I think I know someone.” He bit down on the tips of his thumbs. She had jumped off Coward’s Cliff. Maybe she was impulsive enough to agree. But his father had said that he
needed to stay on his best behavior. If she was the reckless type, it could become a problem, especially considering the social circles he moved in. “I’m not sure.”

“Come on.” The whine in his cousin’s tone made him look up. “We can’t help you if you don’t share what you’re thinking.”

Ah, screw it! If he was to survive, he had to do something. “How well do you know the manager at the club?”

BY FRIDAY OF
the following week, Didi had done only three things: eat, sleep, and paint. Not necessarily in that order.

She started by painting his eyes, trying to find the right shade of blue to match how she remembered them. Van Gogh had a thing for blue too. So many shades, so little time. Eventually she moved
on to the contours of his face, combining flesh tones like an alchemist in search of the perfect mixture when re-creating the angles and planes. His hair was the toughest part. She had to blend
several types of brown, trying to translate onto canvas the right texture of softness she imagined she would have felt if she had given in to combing her fingers through it at the dock that
afternoon.

As far as muses went, Caleb Parker was frustrating. She couldn’t quite pin him down, and she knew she wouldn’t see him again. They might both live in Dodge Cove, but they were
galaxies apart.

She was in the final stages of her third attempt when the doorbell rang. With a jolt, she pulled her hand away. Good thing the brush hadn’t made contact with the canvas yet, or there would
have been a yellow streak across his face.

The bell rang again.

Aside from the occasional pizza delivery, the button beside the front door was hardly ever used. Had her mom forgotten her key or something? Not likely.

When a third ring reverberated through the house, she plunged the brush into the jar of turpentine she kept close and grabbed a filthy rag.

Another ring.

“Coming!” she yelled, rubbing the rag over her fingers to get as much of the paint off as she could. Despite neglecting the cleaning, her mother wouldn’t appreciate paint on
the doorknob. Which reminded her:
must clean house
.

As a final precaution, she rubbed her hand against her overalls. Once satisfied she wouldn’t leave any oily residue, she turned the lock. Only when the door was already halfway open did
she remember her mother’s reminder of asking who it was first.
Might be some rapist or home invader
, she would always say.

As a safety precaution, Didi warned in her most threatening voice, “If you’re here to rape me or invade my home, I have the nine and the one already dialed!” Then she threw the
door wide open. Her lips formed an O when she recognized the person standing on the other side. “You’re not a rapist or home invader.”

A sexy smile accompanied a raised eyebrow and the removal of aviator sunglasses that revealed those blue eyes she had been dreaming of all week. Damn. They were a darker shade than she had first
thought. Or maybe it was because the light was different on her front porch.

“I certainly hope not,” he said in a mild tone that quickly shifted to serious. “What kind of neighborhood do you live in that you’d have to ask if you’re about to
get raped or invaded before opening the door?”

“The kind guys like you don’t usually frequent.” She took him all in. Blue-striped button-down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tucked into mustard . . . “What
are those pants called?”

He looked down. “Chinos?”

“I don’t know what those are but you pull them off.” She crossed her arms and bit the tip of her pinky, enjoying the sight of him. Must have been the confidence in his stance
and the way his eyes didn’t waver when he returned her assessing gaze. No guys like him at the public school she went to. In fact, guys like him got punched in the face where she went. Well,
maybe not Caleb. He looked like he could hold his own in a fight. She’d have to feel for herself to make sure, but from the way the clothes sat content on his frame, she could tell he sported
a tight, lean body girls drooled over. Her mouth certainly watered. She wasn’t ashamed to admit it. No harm in appreciating God-given beauty. She was a painter; she should know.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

“My painting clothes,” she answered, still admiring him. How could she convince him to pose for her without seeming creepy?

“You paint?”

His tone confused her. “You’re surprised?”

“Yes. It’s something I didn’t expect.”

“There are many unexpected things about me.”

“I’m starting to realize that.”

“Should I even ask how you found me?”

A sheepish grin lifted the corners of his lips. “I asked Tony at the country club.”

“Ah.” Direct. She liked that about him too. She dropped her arms in favor of tucking her paint-smeared hands into her pockets, hiding the rag as she did so. “Since you’re
here you should know what my next question will be.”

The grin turned into a fuller smile, but no teeth. “I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?” Her eyebrow twitched. Any normal person would have slammed the door in his perfectly symmetrical face for being so weird. In her case, she found herself intrigued. Why
not? It wasn’t like she had anything better to do that day besides painting and cleaning.

And job hunting, of course. But honestly, that wasn’t going so well. People just weren’t hiring. All the summer part-time gigs were taken already. Hence her being home.

“Can we talk inside?” he asked, pushing forward as if expecting her to give way.

She stood firm, barring him entrance. The house needed a general cleaning, and her paintings were drying in the living room. So, hell to the no. Hanging out inside for this proposal of his? Not
gonna happen.

Her stomach growled, making the decision for her. She stepped out, forcing him back.

“I figure if you want me to listen to your ‘proposal,’ you at least owe me lunch,” she said, pulling the door closed.

He raked those gorgeous eyes over her body again. He might as well have touched her from the way her skin pebbled from a single look. “Don’t you want to change first?” he
suggested.

She looked down at her paint-stained overalls and tank top underneath. Even without a bra on she had considered herself pretty much dressed. “What’s wrong with what I’m
wearing?”

“I believe restaurants have a no flip-flop policy.” He pointed at her choice of footwear.

Lifting her foot, she examined the bright pink slipper. “These are my favorite pair too. And here I thought glitter was considered formal wear.”

“So you’re going to change?”

The hope in his voice made her want to mess with him. “Who said anything about restaurants? I don’t have to change for where we’re going.”

“And where is that?”

With a cheeky grin, she walked past him to . . . Jesus, even his car was gorgeous. White with black racing stripes, the Mustang was all hard lines and lean muscle. Just like its driver.
Sometimes money wasn’t half bad, she caught herself thinking. Caleb ran past her and opened the passenger door. She paused, eyebrow inching up.

“A gentleman,” she said.

He dropped his gaze. Was that pink on the tips of his ears? Her eyes brightened. Oh, he was hiding a blush. She made a mental note to make it a point to unsettle him whenever she got a
chance.

Assuming she would get another chance.

“My mother always said it’s a man’s duty to make a woman happy,” he said, locking gazes with her again.

“And you think opening doors will do that?”

“Just get in.” There was that equally sexy frown she was growing fond of.

“My, you’re pushy.” She blew him a kiss before taking a seat. And just as he pushed the door closed, she added, “I like it.”

Finding Didi hadn’t been difficult. Tony at the country club had been helpful. Well, once he was assaulted by Nathan’s potent persuasive powers, anyway. Sometimes
his cousin scared the shit out of Caleb.