Mister Romance (Masters of Love #1)

“Yes! So cool!”


“Do you know if any of those ladies use his services?”

She nods. “All of them, except Alice. It’s not really her thing, but she still likes to hear about it.”

Holy crap. I’ve just hit the client mother lode.

I grab my phone out of my purse and pull Joanna into my side. “Hey, let’s take some selfies!” I’ve never taken a selfie in my life, but I quickly figure out it’s not too difficult to also frame in the ladies behind us.

When I’m done, I bring up the notes app. “Could you write down your cousin’s friends for me?”

Joanna looks at the phone with a dubious expression. “Are you going to write bad things about them? Because Alice would kill me if that happened.”

“I’m going to try to keep their identities a secret. I just need to know who they are for my research.”

“Okay. I guess.” She types into the phone, and when I scan down the list, their names jog my memory in ways their faces don’t. One is the daughter of a prominent Supreme Court judge. Another is an actress who’s had some success on Broadway. There’s even a well-known magazine editor whose publication specializes in stories like, 15 WAYS TO TELL IF A MAN IS CHEATING ON YOU. I’m not sure if all of them are married or in relationship, but wow. That’s a whole lot of platinum-plated scandal right there. If Derek found out, he’d have a major revenue boner.

I’m sure these ladies don’t represent all of Max’s clients, but it’s enough to give me an idea of the types of women who use his services. I suddenly feel inferior in comparison. They’re so glamorous and accomplished, and I’m ... well ... I look down at myself ... a Brooklyn girl masquerading as a Park Avenue princess.

“Eden?” I look up to see Joanna staring at me. “You okay?”

“Just thinking.” I give her a smile. “Do me a favor? Introduce me to your cousin and her friends.”

Joanna leans in and drops her voice to a whisper. “Oh, my God. What are you going to do?”

“Try and infiltrate them. Find out more info about Mister Romance. Let’s just hope all those hours I spent playing a turnip pay off.” I hit record on my voice memo and put the phone back into my purse.

Joanna beams. “This is so exciting! I’ve never been a part of a secret mission before. Let’s go!”

I exhale slowly as we move toward the group. Marla Massey is talking, and the ladies around her listen with eager interest.

“The other day my son asked me how his father and I make up after our many arguments, and I said it was simple – we reach a compromise. I end up lying and tell Walter I was wrong, and then he agrees with me.” The women all laugh. Their reaction is so synchronized, it’s like they share a hive mind.

Joanna moves us into position beside her cousin. “Good evening, ladies. Alice, I want you to meet my friend, Eden.”

I hold out my hand. “Eden Crane. Nice to meet you.”

As Alice shakes my hand, I can feel the other ladies assessing me, taking note of my dress and accessories; weighing up whether or not I’m the same species. I must pass the test, because Marla Massey is the first to smile.

“Crane, you say? Are you related to Samuel, by any chance?”

God, I wish. Samuel Crane is the heir apparent to one of the biggest media empires in the country. If I was related to him I wouldn’t have to go through all of this crap to get a decent job.

I hit Marla with my most sincere smile. “Yes, actually. Sam is my second cousin. With his family’s fortune, I don’t have any idea why he chooses to work for a living, but then, he was always a strange child.”

The ladies laugh, and I try to hide how disgusted I am with myself right now. Anything for the story, I tell myself. I hold my clutch a little higher, so it’s sure to get a decent sound level on the conversation.

“Actually, I’m glad I met you tonight, Mrs. Massey,” I say.

“Oh, please. Call me Marla.”

I act like it’s an honor. “Thank you. I believe we have a mutual friend.”

Marla raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yes, a certain gorgeous stallion I recently met at the Mason Richards stables.”

For a brief moment the women freeze, and I worry I’ve made a terrible mistake.

But then Marla gives the group a knowing smile and says, “From the moment I saw you, I knew you had good taste.”

There’s a smattering of laughter, and I let out a relieved breath. Okay, now let’s see what we can find out about a certain stallion from his stable of fillies.





FIFTEEN


Inside Information

“I think for me, it’s like getting vitamin B injections,” says Candice, a well-preserved forty-year-old whose family owns a chain of luxury hotels. “Seeing Max regularly keeps me healthy, happy, and youthful. It’s like after a date with him, I’ve purged a whole lot of negative energy and feel totally refreshed.”

“Is it the same for all of you?” I ask.

The ladies nod in agreement as a waiter refills our glasses.

Candice cocks her head and studies me. “Is it not like that for you?”

I tense up as everyone waits for my answer. “Uh ... well, not exactly.” Now they all seem concerned.

“Talk to us, Eden,” Marla says. “We’ll help you if we can. The Sisterhood of the Romancing Pants is here for you.”

I take a sip of champagne. Great. Now, I have no choice but to share.

“Well, I’ve never really been a romantic person, so I have issues with the tender sentiments, and ... I don’t know. I guess I just find it hard to trust a guy who gets paid to make women feel good. Like, how can I take any of his compliments seriously?”

There’s a murmur of understanding. “You’ve been hurt,” Marla says. “Not wanting to trust is a symptom of that. But Max doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. If he tells you you’re beautiful, it’s because he thinks you are. Then again, he’s the kind of man who finds beauty in most places.”

“And you don’t think that’s strange?”

Candice touches my arm. “I used to be like you. But the only way to get the full benefits from a date is to surrender to the fantasy. We’ve all been hurt. We’re all broken in places. But romance gives us a way to forget about that for a while and believe that fairytales can come true.” The other ladies nod in agreement. “We live in a world of flawed men. There’s no shame in letting ourselves believe in a perfect one for a while.”

“Do any of your husbands or partners know about Max?”

Several of them nod, including Marla. “I told my husband about him. God knows, I’ve put up with his enough of his ‘secretaries’ for all these years. The least he can do is support my emotional therapy.”