The Playboy's Proposal (Sorensen Family) (6 page)

Ellie sat up when she appeared, and Benny barely processed the navy and taupe décor of the room—nice but not particularly homey or comfortable for a child—before rushing to the little girl’s side. She gave Ella a big hug before leaning back to tuck some hair away from the girl’s damp and flushed face. “Maybe while your uncle gets you a glass of milk, I can tell you a story. Would you like that?”

Ella nodded and clung to Benny’s hand before snuggling farther back in bed.

Since Benny’s own nieces and nephew had moved back permanently nearly a year ago thanks to their dad skipping out on Daisy, Benny’d had to brush up on her storytelling skills, and after reading one particular book dozens of times—kids really liked repetition—she figured she could probably remember the gist of the tale about the bunny and her first day of school.

By the time Henry returned with the glass of milk, Ella had already nodded off. Holding her finger to her mouth to stop him from speaking and waking his niece up, Benny tucked the covers around Ella’s small shoulders and turned off the light. Henry waited outside the door, still holding the glass of milk.

“That’s it? You already got her back to sleep?”

“What can I say? I’m good.”

She headed back down the hall and into his living room, where another bluesy jazz song was now playing.

“Would you mind sticking around for a few more minutes? Just to be sure she’s asleep?”

She imagined that angelic face waking up in terror again and nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I’m having a drink. Can I get you something? I have red wine, if that’s your preference.” He smiled, and she wondered how he knew what she liked when she remembered the open bottle still on her kitchen counter and the glass waiting for her at home that he must have seen.

“Sure.”

She took a seat on a leather sofa and brought her bare feet up to tuck underneath her. With the lights dimmed like this, she was able to see the downtown skyline and the city before them. No wonder he was so popular with the ladies. All he needed was to plop himself down in front of that piano and hit a few keys and the women would be tossing their panties at him.

She was dang close herself.

“What’s with the piano? Do you actually play?”

He didn’t even look at the instrument, just carried the two glasses of wine over. “Not anymore,” he said vaguely and handed her a glass before sitting opposite her. “Thanks for your help tonight. I was at my wits’ end, and when her mother didn’t pick up, I was seriously considering giving her some of the Benadryl packed in her bag just to try and get her back to sleep.”

For someone who had apparently been at his wits’ end, Henry looked alarmingly suave and sexy, not a hair of that sleek and perfect blond coif out of place. His white linen shirt still crisp, and the way he sat back, so casual but poised reminded her of some commercial for men’s cologne.

“It’s fine, really. But what’s going on with her mother? Anything serious?” She didn’t want to be intrusive—maybe the woman was sick and was in the hospital, for all Benny knew—but she was curious for Ella’s sake.

Henry shook his head and took a drink of whatever was in his glass, something dark and caramel in color. “No. Other than forgetting what it’s like to grow up with an absent mother whose first and only loyalty was to her career, she’s just fine.”

Huh. Benny didn’t really know too much about Henry Ellison other than he was likely worth millions alone because of his family’s company, he held late-night parties, and he was pretty good at his job at an ad agency. But it sounded like maybe growing up, his life wasn’t as charmed as she’d have thought.

“Before you think you know my life,” he interrupted, as if reading her thoughts, “why don’t we stick to what we’ve joined forces to accomplish. Getting you the date with Mr. Right and getting you out of my hair.” He took another sip. “What can you tell me about this guy? Other than the fact you can’t string together a sentence longer than two words in his presence. It might help us figure out the best way to approach him. Work into his good graces.”

She took her own drink, enjoying the heady flavor of the wine that was clearly triple the quality—and price—of her own choice at home. “He went to school in Portland, graduated with top honors, has been working at the practice for six years. Thirty-six years old, and as far as I know, never married. No kids.”

“I need more. How about sports? Music? Do you know what team he roots for? Does he prefer the symphony to rock concerts? That sort of thing.”

She thought about that one for a minute. “Oh. His car. There’s a sticker in the back window about the PGA Tour. I think he likes golf.”

“Okay, that’s an in. How are your golf skills?”

“Golf? Are you kidding? Trekking outside in the hot sun trying to get a little ball into a hole does not sound like my idea of fun. I’d rather skin my right arm with my teeth.”

He actually chuckled. “If this man that you think walks on water is a huge golf fanatic, how do you think he’s going to react when he hears your feelings about his favorite sport? You know, if you want, I could take you out for a few lessons. Maybe you’ll find it’s not as painful as you think.”

“Only if I’m desperate enough.”

“Don’t sweet-talk me, now,” he said wryly. “What else have you got? Any favorite foods or restaurants? Bars he hangs out at?”

She honestly didn’t know. And that realization was really depressing. Other than being perfectly perfect, with those sweet, smiling eyes and a voice like butter—and the details of his life appropriate for a résumé—she didn’t know much more about her crush.

Henry must have understood from her silence that she had nothing. “Why don’t you spend the next few days at work finding out whatever you can about the good doctor? Take a look around his office if you can—there’s got to be some insight.”

It made sense. Even if it felt a little weird to have to spy on her own colleague.

“The other possibility is you could actually hold a conversation with the man. See what he did over the weekend. In fact, why don’t I set you up with one little task to do first thing Monday.” She looked up to see him appraising her. “You’re going to hold an actual bona fide conversation with the man. And initiate it if you have to.”

Her stomach roiled at the prospect. What if she couldn’t even squeeze a word out and ended up hyperventilating and passing out?

Henry was smiling. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

Chapter Six

Henry was not in a good mood when at nine o’clock Monday morning his sister finally called him back to assure him she was in town and would be picking up her daughter from day camp.

“Henry. I already told you how much I appreciate you helping me out of that jam. Are you wanting blood, too?” Morgan quipped when he answered.

“Funny. How’d your trip go?” he asked, wanting to ease into the discussion.

“Fantastic, actually. Not only did the seminar sell out, but I unloaded close to two thousand copies of my books.”

“Great to hear, Morgan.” He really was happy for her success. Like him, his sister hadn’t wanted to rest on their family’s laurels when she set out. She’d wanted to do it on her own, and from all accounts was doing it well. It wasn’t her career, however, he was worried about. “Ella’s just fine, in case you were wondering.”

She paused just for a moment. “Yes, I’m sure she is, Henry. I knew that she’d be more than fine in your capable hands. Are you seriously about to give me attitude because I trusted her care to you this weekend? Knew you’d have everything under control?”

“No, but I am giving you shit because Ella missed you. And from what I’ve learned from her, she’s barely seen you more than I have over the past month. She needs you, Morgan.”

“I love Ella more than anything on this earth,” she said quietly, but the anger was there. “Everything I’m doing—these tours, these seminars and speaking engagements—is for her. For us. It might be a little rocky right now, but that’s because I need to create my platform. Once I have a steady fan base, name recognition that will sell my next book, then things will quiet down and I’ll be around a lot more. But really, Henry? You are the last person who should be dishing out advice about anyone’s personal life.”

He sighed. “I am only saying this because I love Ella and don’t want to see you repeat mistakes that…
she
made.” He didn’t have to say whom he meant. They both knew. No matter how long it might be, how grown-up they were, their mother and the pain their childhood caused would always be something they’d remember. “Don’t take for granted the best thing you have in your life.”

“I know you mean well, Henry. I do. But I’ve got this. I know what I’m doing. Is there anything else?”

“Nah. Glad you’re home.”

He hung up and stared out the window for a minute, a memory niggling at the back of his mind. He’d been eleven, having just returned to his mother’s stately home after his dad died. He was scared and heartbroken but determined not to show it, instead trying to pretend he didn’t care. Didn’t care about the life he’d lost, his father, or that his own mother looked at him like she barely remembered his name. And he certainly didn’t care for or even like the four-year-old blond girl in pigtails who tagged around after him, so excited to have someone else around the house she could try to connect with. At least, that’s what he’d told himself.

But Morgan had been persistent, and soon enough he found himself a guest at her tea parties, sitting opposite her as they drank from empty teacups and nibbled on broken-up Pop-Tarts. And liking it. Liking
her
, even though he’d tried to fight it.

She’d given him something to love again. An adoring little sister who thought the sun rose and set behind him. But somewhere in the past few years, life had become busier, and the closeness they’d once had as kids became a distant memory.

How had he let that happen?

But this weekend, he’d had the most fulfilling few days he’d had in a while. Spending time with his niece, sharing little moments like bedtime stories and singing songs in the car on the way to her day camp. Holding her on his lap as she giggled when he fumbled over her silly Angry Birds game while Benny tried on clothes. Holding her hand when Benny pried the Skittle from her nose. It had been nice.

Then there was Benny.

A woman who both frustrated and amused him at the same time. She was definitely unlike any woman he’d ever been around. Women usually flirted with and teased him, looking for some angle to get their hooks into him. Benny Sorensen barely tolerated him. The woman was crazy and outspoken and stubborn.

But she was also bighearted, rushing to help Ella not because she felt an obligation as a doctor, but because she genuinely cared. And she made him laugh. Made him actually look forward to their next meeting.

In fact, tonight, he might have to stop by her place just to see how today went.

See if she’d managed some face time with Dr. Seeley without physically maiming someone.

…

Benny stood outside Luke’s office, a Starbucks cup in each hand.

You can do this
.
It’s like Henry said. Pretend Luke is just another colleague, a friend. Pretend he’s your last boyfriend, Chip. And, if worst comes to worst, pretend he’s Henry
. That should quell any nervousness she had at speaking to him.

Taking a breath, she stepped inside the doorway. Luke’s head was bent down over his desk as he wrote notes on a chart. Apparently he hadn’t heard her arrive.

She cleared her throat nervously, only it sounded a lot worse than she would have liked and she nearly choked on the phlegm she’d rattled up. Lovely.

He glanced up and broke into a smile. “Dr. Sorensen. Benny. Good to see you.”

Okay. Just the start she was hoping for. She held up one of the cups. “Thought I’d bring you a fresh coffee this morning. Payback for the last cup that I cost you.” It had sounded really good in her head, but somehow, all the oxygen had squeezed out of her lungs and, as she’d tried to speak, her voice sounded alarmingly like one of the Chipmunks. She took in a breath, trying not to appear as winded as she felt.

“Coffee sounds pretty good. Thanks.” He waited, and she realized she was supposed to bring him his cup.

Careful. You don’t want to trip and send this coffee sailing into his lap.

Even though the shoes Henry had picked out were stylish slip-ons without even a heel, she felt unsteady outside of her reliable sneakers with the orthopedic inserts. But she had to admit, they did pull together the look of her black ankle-length pants and the blue shirt she’d liked so much. She had even brushed her hair out and loosened her ponytail. The effect, with the small gold hoop earrings Henry had made her buy, softened her features a bit. Not bad.

He took the cup from her. “Thanks.” His eyes seemed to pause on her, taking in her face—for possibly the first time—and a quick once-over down to her shoes as he took a drink. Was that a flicker of surprise in his eyes?

She took a sip of her own drink, steadying the excitement creeping over her. Maybe there had been some truth in Henry’s assessment. She felt a little more confident today. More feminine as she’d stood in front of the mirror, noticing the way the formfitting clothes gave her an hourglass appearance. Was Luke picking up on that?

Silence followed. Now what? Oh, the weekend. Details. She’d heard people turn the phrase often enough, and she’d done it herself a time or two. But not when it came to Luke Seeley.

“So, how was your weekend?” she forced herself to say. Above Luke’s head was an autographed photo of a golf pro she didn’t recognize, unsurprisingly. Inspiration struck. “It was a beautiful weekend for golf, right?”

His light hazel eyes shined. “It was amazing. I spent practically the whole weekend on the greens. I shot an eighty-three on Saturday and eighty-four on Sunday. My driver and long clubs were spot-on, and I hit one of my best games. Do you play?” he asked and took a drink from his cup.

She didn’t see much choice here. “I do. Love it. Nothing better than being out there. On the green. Um, shooting.” That sounded pathetic, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Really? What’s your best game?”

“I, uh…” He’d said eighty-four. So she should probably stay in that ballpark. But…higher or lower? She took a gamble. “Ninety-three?”

“Not bad. Maybe you should join us one of these mornings. Dr. Albert and I usually play with a couple of thoracic surgeons from two floors down.”

“That would be great,” she said, her voice a little high. “Let me know.”

Okay. She’d met her objective. Made actual interface with Luke, and so far, hadn’t done anything to embarrass herself.

Time to make a graceful exit.

“Guess I’d better go. Don’t want to leave the patients waiting.” She turned, narrowly missing the chair that she’d forgotten about.

Outside in the hallway, she wanted to leap up into the air, do a jig, something to celebrate the moment.

She’d made contact.

And was still pretty much intact.

…

The rest of Benny’s day after her chat with Luke had gone remarkably well; she’d managed not only to avoid colliding with any nonmoving objects the next time she caught him in the hall, but she’d also made eye contact with him for several seconds before ducking into the examining room. Progress.

So she’d thought nothing was going to sour what was left of the day when she pulled into her open parking spot, ready to dive into the bag of Thai food she’d picked up to celebrate her win. And with four minutes to spare, she might even catch the opening of
Suits
. Hoisting the bag into her arms, she pushed the car door shut with her hip and headed to the elevator. The faint dinging of the elevator told her that if she hoofed it she could make it and not have to wait the decade it usually took for it to return. She rounded the corner just as a stunning, leggy brunette stepped inside.

“Hold the door,” Benny called out, relieved she’d made it in time.

Only the woman—who Benny was absolutely certain had not only heard her, but seen her as well—stepped farther back into the elevator. Not even pretending to hold it for her.

Hurrying, Benny surged forward, determined to make it onto that elevator, her hand in front of her to push that call button before it could leave without her.

The doors sealed a second before she pressed it.

The woman had completely ignored her.

A second later, the bottom of the takeout bag, not reinforced for running, gave out and her container of red curry exploded on her feet. “Mother of—”

Muttering a string of curses at the woman Benny blamed for her predicament, she leaned down and grabbed the pile of napkins that had fallen along with her food and wiped the tops of her new shoes off.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Benny looked up from her squatting position to see Henry staring down at her, amusement in his eyes.

Figured.

…

Henry had heard the woman talking to herself in Spanish before he turned the corner, and from the frustration in her tone, he sensed her ramblings weren’t PG rated. He’d watched her probably a minute too long before he’d made himself known, his attention riveted to the opening at the front of her shirt as she tried to wipe the soupy mess from her feet.

She didn’t bother to respond to his quip as he leaned down and took the empty Styrofoam bowl and lid and tossed it into the garbage as she grabbed the only two containers still intact.

“Thanks,” she said, and straightened up.

It was hard to miss the anger shining in her bright eyes, or the flush on her face, and for a first, he hadn’t been the one to cause it. “Bad day at work? Did things between you and the good doctor not go according to plan?”

She blew at the strand of hair that had fallen across her face, but with her hands filled, she couldn’t wipe it away. Other than fleetingly blowing it off her face, it returned, and settled across her lips.

“Here.” He moved his hand and tucked the hair back, touching her cheek just for a moment. She sucked in her breath and glared at him.

The contact was simple, but he couldn’t deny the fact that standing so near the woman didn’t have some appeal. She smelled like vanilla. And curry.

“I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad,” he tried again.

She took in a breath and exhaled. “It went fine. Sorry. Just had a bad moment. It actually went better than I thought. We talked about golf. I think he even might have invited me to join him.”

“A date? Already?”

“Not exactly. He suggested I join him and his golf buddies some time. But that’s progress, right?”

Not good. Not if the guy was going to see her in a more romantic way. “Okay. The important thing is you talked and you didn’t throw up on him. You didn’t, right?” he teased.

“Ha-ha. I thought you’d be more excited about this. Maybe I should go out and hit a few holes with you or whatever. Get in some practice.”

“Unless he’s asking you to join him—and him alone—I wouldn’t be celebrating just yet. What you have to be careful of is venturing into the friend zone. Once you’re there, there is no going back.”

“That’s so not true. There are loads of people who started out as friends and went on to become more.”

“Really? What, in movies? Books? Look, you want me to be honest? If a guy sees a woman and he has any interest whatsoever in her—”

“Meaning he wants to sleep with her.”

“If he finds her attractive and wants to sleep with her,” he conceded before continuing, “he might
pretend
he just wants to be friends until he can find the right opportunity to make his move. A man either wants to have sex with you or he doesn’t. You have to make sure Luke Seeley sees you as someone he wants to sleep with, not become golf buddies with.”

“The other day you were telling me I needed to learn golf,” she said, frustration in her voice.

“Learning golf is still a good idea, but you want to make sure it’s because he’s doing it to spend time with you, not to fill an empty spot on his golf game. See what I’m saying?”

The elevator doors finally crept open, and they stepped inside. “I guess so. But it was hard enough just to talk to him. What would you have me do? Push my boobs together and bat my eyes at him?”

He glanced pointedly down at said boobs, which looked remarkably perfect in that formfitting top, and smiled. “Yeah. Go ahead. Try it. I want to see that.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“You’ve opened the lines of communication. That’s a start. Now you need to make him see you as a woman. You’ve seen the kind of woman he likes,” he said, referring to the supermodel from the other night. “Now you have to
be
that woman.”