Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) (4 page)

“I have a business proposition for you. I probably should have called ahead, but when I saw it was you I needed to talk to… Impulse won out. I decided to do this in person, so you’d know I wasn’t making excuses.”

This was too weird. Gwen’s mind raced ahead a million miles a minute, and she still couldn’t figure out why he was in her diner, acting as if there were anything professional about the way they knew each other. She almost said,
I thought we handled business last night.
She would have, to the Brad she went home with. Something about him now made that feel wrong, and the heavy discomfort filling her veins and throbbing behind her right eye told her things would only get weirder before they made sense. Even then, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer. “What type of business proposal?”

Having his daughter dumped on his doorstep at six in the morning was the least of Brad’s surprises today. At the top of the shocker list, after months of trying to figure out who owned 2Gud2BTru.com, was that his assistant set a name on his desk, right after he walked in.

The site owner worked hard to keep her information private, and he didn’t blame her. He’d read through the archives when he discovered the similarity in URLs between her site and his. Someone who blogged about dates gone bad—never with names, always with embarrassing details—probably didn’t need those dates having an idea what she did for a living.

He definitely never expected the name to match that of the woman he’d taken home last night. Okay, so there had still been a chance that the Gwen Marie Debson who owned the site wasn’t the same as the Gwen Marie who teased his thoughts even hours after sending her on her way, but he couldn’t help hoping the odds were in his favor, and he had an excuse to see her again.

And now he stood in front of Gwen, as she waited for an answer. “First of all—Drea, what do you want to eat?” He’d gotten a hold of the mother of one of her friends and asked if Drea could spend the day with them. He was dropping her off on the way here, when the mom called back and said she couldn’t take Drea after all. Something had come up.

“A chocolate milkshake.” Drea was a female version of him, and he adored that about her. But even if she’d come out as blonde and blue-eyed as her mother, he’d still adore Drea.

“Nice try. Order lunch,” he said.

Gwen handed Drea a menu, nodded one of her waitresses over, to take the order, and turned back to Brad. “Let’s try this again. By
business proposition
you don’t mean lunch, and you don’t mean drinks at a hotel—I assume. So what can I do for you?”

He wondered when she was going to slide in a dig about last night. Something told him her anger burned white hot and seething, to the point where it scalded, rather than her flying off the handle in a screaming, incoherent rage. Or he hoped that was the case. The former might not be any easier to deal with, but it was quieter. “I’d like to buy your domain. I’m prepared to offer you enough to make it worth your time.”

“I’m not going to ask which site you want”—Gwen’s tone remained even, but the pink dotting her cheeks probably wasn’t from lust, like last night—“and instead ask, when you say
worth my time
, do you mean enough I can afford to drive a new domain to the top of search-engine rankings? I have to wonder, if you can afford that, why you don’t do the same for yourself.”

“Because yours is already at the top of the rankings,” he said.

The woman a few seats down from his daughter had stopped playing whatever was in front of her and was listening to their conversation, though she tried to hide it. Brad would bet money on it. The handful of other people in the room seemed oblivious. Was the she a friend of Gwen’s or simply a busybody?

“Exactly.” Gwen gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Tell me, Mr. Goode—if that is your real name—how did you learn about my site? From a dining companion perhaps? A random stranger you met online?”

And there was the antagonism he expected from a situation like this. Not that he had any experience with this kind of thing, but reason dictated she wasn’t going to be all cheers and grins, even if last night had never happened. He didn’t want to do this in front of Drea, but he didn’t want to let her out of his sight either. “I know about your site because it shows up first when people search for mine. I know about
you
because my assistant has spent the last six months following digital paper trails to figure out who owned that name.”

The clenching of her jaw told him the clinical response might not have been the best approach. The way she glanced at the other woman and almost-identical look they shared confirmed the eavesdropper was probably a friend. Wonderful. More witnesses.

“Does that
digital paper trail
include finding out which websites I’ve been on recently, and setting up your own account on…” She glanced at Drea, “…certain websites?”

He couldn’t keep up the cool exterior if he wanted this to work. He needed to drop the pretenses and talk to her as the man she knew. Not professional, but he didn’t like going about things this way.

“Excuse me.” Drea’s voice drew his attention from the looming shitstorm. She was talking to the woman with the game system. “Do you know if they have any more chargers back there?”

Gwen’s growl was so low, Brad was sure only he heard it. As was her comment. “You can’t have your daughter in here, bugging my customers. Is she your buffer, to keep me from losing it?”

Irritation crept under his skin. He deserved the wrath, Drea didn’t. He didn’t keep his voice down. “She’s not
bugging
anyone; she was very polite. Probably more so than most adults are capable of. And customers? You mean you friend, who’s been listening to our conversation?”

“Busted.” Game-woman shrugged. She unplugged her device and handed the cable to Drea. “I’m not using mine right now. Help yourself.”

Drea plugged in her e-reader but didn’t turn back to it. “Are you really listening in?”

“Aren’t you? It’s better than daytime TV.”

Drea nodded and nibbled on the fries someone set in front of her.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “The domain isn’t for sale. If you actually want this to be a business conversation, we can discuss it in my office, instead of you hijacking me.”

That was exactly what they needed to do, but he didn’t know these people. He hesitated, glancing at Drea.

“Jaycie.” Gwen’s tone shifted to sugary syrup. “Please?”

“We’re good here,” Game-woman said.

Gwen nodded toward the back of the restaurant. “I have cameras in there too. You can watch obsessively over my shoulder if you’d like. And I swear to you I trust Jaycie with my life, which is so far from what I can say about you, it’s not funny.”

The dig hurt more than Brad liked. Time to try to make this right. He gestured toward the door marked
Office.
“After you.”

****

Gwen didn’t know how she kept her irritation in check. She’d been sideswiped and ambushed and emotionally manipulated. She was so stupid to think last night was an amazing coincidence. His brief explanation rang in her head, and as sincere as he sounded, experience taught her not to buy into the smoke and mirrors. She couldn’t afford to believe him. Not when it put both her personal and her professional life at risk.

The moment the door shut behind them, she whirled on Brad. “What the hell is this really about? How did you find me? No one knew I was on that site. No one but Jaycie and the credit card companies know I own 2Gud2BTru-dot-com. You couldn’t approach me like a normal person and ask to conduct business? Is this some kind of sick game for you? Fucking the woman you’re going to negotiate with?”

She snapped her mouth shut when she realized he was staring at her, lips pursed. She hadn’t meant to let so much out at once. Swallowing, she picked a single question to focus on. “Did you know who I was last night?”

He gestured toward the desk. “Can we sit and talk this through?”

“We are talking this through.” The only reason she wasn’t yelling was because the room had little to no soundproofing. She didn’t know the last time she’d been this angry. Or—as much as she hated to admit it—the last time she felt so betrayed. “Answer my question.”

“No, I didn’t…” He worked his jaw, as if he were about to say more, and then snapped it shut.

“Until?”

“I promise, last night I thought I was meeting a woman named Marie. Everything about the evening was genuine. This morning, when your name crossed my desk, I admit I was a little hopeful. Same first and middle name—the odds were good you’d be the same Gwen, but I had to see in person. I had that much fun with you.”

This sucked far worse than it should. She was used to people trying to take advantage of her in business, but she didn’t know what to call this. “Do you realize this is all a bit hard to swallow? We make a physical connection, and the next day you’re trying to buy my livelihood? It looks too scripted and convenient from where I stand.”

To his credit, he flinched. At this point, she thought it was as much a practiced response as any of his actions, but it made for a good show.

“I’m telling the truth. I didn’t know you were the person I’ve been trying to track down,” he said.

Her hesitations about meeting up for casual sex seemed pale in comparison to reality. Maybe she was exaggerating. Being melodramatic. But she couldn’t get past the feeling of being used. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that a guy who sells women’s underwear thinks with his dick.”

“You didn’t mind last night. And I’m trying to explain now. Do you want that, or are we in here to toss accusations at each other?”

“Are you kidding me? You dump this in my lap—not even a phone call first—try to use what we shared to get me to cave?”

He grimaced. “No. I mean, maybe in the back of my mind that seemed clever, but that’s not what this is about.”

“That makes me feel special and unique. The domain’s not for sale. I don’t want your money. I
do
want you out of my diner. Your kid can finish her fries first.”

“Her name’s Drea, not
kid,
and you’re not being rational. Hear me out. Just listen.”

“Even if you really had no idea who I was last night, approaching me like this isn’t the way to do things.”

“Can we start over?” The edge in his voice didn’t match the pleading words. Neither did the clenching of his jaw or the lines creasing his forehead. Nothing about his posture said
apology
or that he wanted anything for anyone but himself.

“No. You need to leave.”

Brad stared at his laptop, eyes dry and protesting. He’d re-read the same paragraph in this vendor agreement almost a dozen times and still had no idea what it said. What happened this morning with Gwen was a business setback, nothing more. Why couldn’t he file it away with things to move on from, and get back to important work?

It probably had something to do with the gnawing behind his ribs—a feeling he wasn’t familiar with, but if he had to guess, it was guilt. Fortunately, he didn’t do guilt, so it couldn’t be anything but heartburn.

Except his nagging thoughts told him he’d fucked up. It didn’t matter the Marie he had a date with and the Gwen he intended to do business with were the same woman. He’d approached her wrong once he found out. Treated her like a negotiation but still expected her to cave because of the night before—she’d been right on that account, and he couldn’t convince himself he wasn’t at fault. He glanced at his computer clock. Almost midnight. He had early meetings tomorrow, and since Emily had never shown up, he needed to find a babysitter for Drea. He had to get some sleep.

He tucked everything away and turned off all the lights. He was halfway up the stairs, when a loud pounding echoed through the condo. Instinct asked,
what the fuck?
Experience already knew the answer. He rushed to answer the door before Emily could wake up their daughter.

And there she was, on the front porch, makeup smudged under blood-shot eyes. The smell of alcohol wafted off her. She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Get Drea. I need to get home.”

“She’s sleeping. Are you drunk?”

“No. Someone spilled their whiskey sour on me. Wake her up.”

Once upon a time, he would have questioned where she’d been. He already knew, though. Wendover, with her boyfriend. The asshole who made his living counting cards in blackjack, and hadn’t been so great at it lately. “It’s late, Em. I’ll drop her off in the morning.”

“It
is
late.” Her upper lip pulled up. “That’s why I’m not arguing this with you. Get her, or I’ll call the cops and tell them you have my daughter when you don’t have custody.”

He gritted his teeth and swallowed an argument. The number of times she’d done it, he knew the outcome would be in his favor, at least for the night. He also knew she’d make good on her threat, and then no one would get any sleep. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He nudged Drea’s door open, enough to let light from the hallway spill in, and was relieved to see her sleeping soundly. He extracted her reader from under her cheek, placed it in the outer pocket of her backpack, and slung the bag over his shoulder. As carefully as he could, he lifted her from the bed. He needed to get her back here full time, before she got too big to do this with. That desire was tied to the insanity that made him claim Gwen was his fiancée this morning. A stable home life would convince the judge—

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t happening. Drea grumbled in her sleep and rested her head on his chest. He frowned at the sleeping form, carried her downstairs, and strapped her into the backseat of the car. At least she slept through almost anything.

“Where’s your
fiancée
?” Emily’s soft question hit his back.

He spun to face her but was too tired to make something up. “We’ve been having some trouble. Things didn’t work out.”

“Imagine that.” She brushed past him with a sneer. Seconds later, she pulled her Mercedes out of the driveway and pointed it in the general direction of her house.

Brad scrubbed his face and headed back inside. He needed to put a stop to this. If only he had any idea how.

****

Gwen sank back on her sofa and stared at the ceiling. Crawling into bed and hiding from the world wasn’t really her thing, especially at seven in the evening, but the idea was tempting right now. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she pulled up the message from Jaycie.

Come hang out with us. We’ll distract you
.

They’d been swapping texts for the last ten minutes, since Gwen discovered George had frozen the account her trust fund paid into. If she thought things with Brad had been intense, awkward, and infuriating yesterday morning, it was nothing compared to what happened since. She was surprised Brad hadn’t tried again to get hold of her again, considering how hard he’d tried to convince her his intentions were innocent. Not that she was disappointed. One less stress she had to worry about.

I’m good here. Let me cope, and you can cheer me up tomorrow
, she sent back to Jaycie.

All right. But Ethan made cookies, if you change your mind
.

Of course he did.
Nope. I’m still fine.
Someone knocked. Probably a lost food delivery guy. The streets in her neighborhood were laid out in a way that always gave new drivers trouble. It was an excuse, and as bad as she felt about brushing Jaycie off, she didn’t need the pity tonight.
Gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.
She tossed the phone back in her purse before she knew if she was ignoring a response, and answered the door.

When she saw who stood on the other side, her wilting evening imploded. She didn’t try to hide her scowl, and couldn’t figure out why she didn’t slam the door in Brad’s face. “Has stalking become part of due-diligence now?”

She hated the tiny spark inside that danced at the realization he wasn’t completely out of her life. The asshole had lied to her, tried to manipulate her, and so much more. Except, he said he hadn’t. He insisted he hadn’t known any more than she had, and he made an effort to tell her. In person, rather than with a shitty phone call. But that was if she believed his story.

“Your home address is on the domain registration.”

“Fantastic. You
are
stalking me.” She should turn away now. Close the door. Why wasn’t she doing that?

“I’m not. Can we talk?”

“Depends on who I’m talking to. Are you the sexy, seductive Brad I wish I hadn’t enjoyed my time with”—crap, she hadn’t meant to phrase it that way—“the Brad who lied to me about knowing who I was? The guy who basically tried to blackmail me into giving up my website, so he didn’t have to put more effort into making his shine?”

“I didn’t do two of those, so is that a
no
?”

It was. She wanted him gone. Desperately, furiously, and almost religiously. So why couldn’t she say the words? “What do you want from me?”

“To come clean. I guess it would be nice if you forgave me after, but really, I figure you deserve more than me talking over you, like I did nothing wrong.” He looked sincere. The edge from yesterday was gone, and the corners of his mouth tugged down.

She was going to regret this. “Five minutes.” She stepped aside. “But don’t expect me to be a polite hostess. You’re not staying.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

His shoulders rose and fell when he sighed, and she saw the one thing she hadn’t on him yet—regret. He met her gaze. “I’m sorry for the way I approached you. Everything I said in the diner is true. I didn’t know who you were before we met. I wasn’t trying to trap you. I should have also said I really enjoyed your company that night. More than I have anyone’s in ages.”

“That’s good.” She wasn’t going to soften at the sincerity in his words.

His mouth twisted in irritation, then melted into a frown. “The stuff I didn’t have a chance to tell you, and I don’t do so now for sympathy, but just so you know, is why I said what I did to my ex.”

Introducing her as his fiancée. She was more than a little curious about that. “Go on.”

“Right now, I only have custody of Drea one weekend a month. I meant that she’s the light of my life and I’m trying for more. Emily wants the opposite. She wants Drea full time, and unfortunately for me, the judge is an old-school, uptight dick, who thinks kids belong with their mothers, regardless of the circumstances. On top of that, he doesn’t like what I do for a living, says it’s immoral, and I’m a bad influence. Emily plays on that, and she has a mile-long string of stories to tell about all the women I bring home, traumatizing our daughter in the process.”

It was a lot to absorb, but Gwen was pretty sure of one thing—if she couldn’t believe anything else he said, he loved his kid. She wanted to ask if it was true he brought all sorts of women home, but it wasn’t any of her business. “That sucks,” was the only thing she could manage.

“Kind of. Especially since it’s not true. So they showed up unannounced yesterday morning, and I saw it in Emily’s eyes. I knew she was about to use you as proof I sleep around.”

“And
bam
, instant engagement?”

“Pretty much. I told her last night though. No details, beyond that we didn’t work out.”

“Sorry about that.” Gwen didn’t know what she was apologizing for; she hadn’t done anything wrong. His frustration was almost tangible though, drawing on her sympathy.

“Anyway. The offer for the domain was real. I have a number in mind, but if you’re not selling, I can’t buy.” He stepped toward the door. “That’s all I wanted to say. Thank you for hearing me out.”

This was the part of the evening where she was supposed to say,
no problem, have a nice life.
“I was about to watch movies and drink cheap beer, to pass the evening. Do you want to join me?” What was wrong with her tonight? If she wanted company, she should see her friends, but something about Brad tugged at bits of her she didn’t want to acknowledge. If she thought too much about it, she might have to admit he hid the same strange mix of loneliness and a general disillusionment with people that she did.

He shook his head. “I… You know what? I actually would. What are we watching?”

Her smile snuck in against her will. “Friday the Thirteenth marathon.”

“Starting with the first movie?”

“Yes.”

He grinned. “I love that kind of campiness. Bring it on.”