Incompatibly Yours: Charity Anthology Supporting Fertility Research (21 page)

Chapter Four

TANNER

"Just give me her number, Ana."

My sister shoots me a filthy look. "No. She's my stylist and I don't want to lose her."

It's been three days since the awards night and after spending hours that night talking to Juliette about life and family, and shit that most women don't make the effort to talk to me about, I need more time with her. I've tried to stay away—hell, the last few days have been almost painful in my attempts to forget her and move on to someone else—but she has somehow captured my complete attention and I'm done trying to ignore the pull.

"Why would you lose her?"

She stares at me from across the table. I've brought her to her favourite restaurant in Sydney for lunch in an effort to butter her up, but it doesn't appear to be working. Placing her fork down, she leans her elbows on the table, almost as if she's settling in to rattle off a list of reasons. "Let's play this out, shall we? I give you her number, you call her and then you take her out. Maybe you take her out a few times. You woo her and sleep with her, maybe even more than once, and then you move on to the next woman in your long line of women. Juliette is left with a broken heart—as are most of the women you date—and she decides she can't stand to be around me anymore in case she runs into you. Bam, I lose my stylist. So, no, I'm not giving you her number."

"Jesus, is that an Ana thing or do all women do that?"

"What? The thinking-things-through thing?"

"Yeah."

She rolls her eyes. "Do all men
not
do that or is that just a Tanner thing?"

I lean forward. "You do realise it's never my intent to use women in the manner you just described, don't you?"

Her eyes widen. "So why have you never settled down with any of the women you've dated? I mean, apart from those five weeks you shacked up with Vanessa."

This is a question I've asked myself on many occasions. "I've come to the conclusion that I pick the wrong women. Juliette is different to any of them. She's different to
me.
"

"Oh, God, it's the thrill of the chase, isn't it? You want some fun before you leave for Europe in two weeks." She madly shakes her head and points at me. "I'm not giving you her number, and I swear, if you go looking for her and screw her around, I will kill you, Tanner Brady." She abruptly pushes her chair back and stands. "I'm going to the bathroom. Maybe you could look around the restaurant and find a woman to flirt with."

I lean back in my chair and watch her walk away. She's wrong. It's not the thrill of the chase where Juliette's concerned. If I called her and all she wanted to do was hang out as friends and talk, I'd be down with that. Even with no promise of anything else, I'd jump at the chance just to spend time with her. And besides, I've cancelled my trip to Europe; Ana just doesn't know that yet.

Her phone vibrates on the other side of the table and I reach across to see who it is. She's been waiting on a call from Kadence and I know she'd be annoyed to miss it. The name on caller ID causes me to tighten my hold on the phone.

I make a snap decision and answer it. "Juliette."

Silence.

And then, "Who is this?" Her voice is all breathy, though, and my gut tells me she knows who it is. Juliette might have tried to hide her attraction to me, but I've chased enough women to know when one is into me.

"It's Tanner."

"Oh… Is Anastasia available?" Her voice remains breathy, and I'm sure I can hear her trying to get it under control.

Totally into me.

"No, you're stuck with me, sweetheart. Tell me something—what are you doing tonight?"

Silence again, before she coughs and says, "I'm, uh, busy. You know, sorting through dresses and stuff for clients, that sort of thing."

I fight the chuckle forcing its way up. "So if a guy asked you to dinner, could that job wait? Or should he come and help you sort through those dresses and stuff?"

"If you're asking me out, Tanner, I'd have to say no because I really do have too much work to do." Her breathing has finally recovered and she's moved back to beast mode. I bet most guys are turned off by the cold tone she takes, but it only serves to turn me on more. If she thinks I'll be discouraged by it, she'll need to think again.

"Tomorrow night, then."

"I'm busy then, too."

"The next night. You can't be working every night."

She sighs. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."

"Bullshit. You're more interested in me than a virgin is in getting laid. And if you keep saying no, I'm just going to track you down and drag you to dinner, so you may as well say yes."

I hear her sharp intake of breath, and grin as I begin to think about where I'll take her. "Fine," she mutters. "Tomorrow night. Pick me up at seven. I'll text you the address. And you better make it worth me postponing my work."

I fucking love her fight.

"I think we both know there were no dresses to be sorted through tonight." I can't let her off that easily. This is too much fun.

"Really? You're going to argue with me
before
you even get me to dinner?" I decide beast mode is my new favourite.

I can't hide the smile in my voice or keep it off my face. "Sweetheart, just wait and see what I have planned for you
at
dinner."

"Oh, I can just imagine. Now, I really do need to talk to Anastasia, so can you please get her to call me back?"

"Once I have your text with your address, I will pass on the message," I say before rattling off my phone number. She ends the call and I place Ana's phone back on her side of the table.

This week just got a whole lot better.

★★★

Fuck me.

I have to restrain myself when Juliette opens her front door to me for our date the next night. Her beauty is exquisite and effortless. She's wearing a simple dark blue dress that sits just above her knee. It's classy as hell and I have a new appreciation for dresses that don't reveal a lot. My imagination is in overdrive—something that happens rarely these days with a woman.

I let my gaze linger on her flawless face as I reach to move a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Beast mode seems to have disappeared, but I still detect some hesitation.

Cocking my head to the side, I say, "Are you still annoyed at me?"

"For forcing me on a date?" I love how she doesn't beat around the bush.

"Yes."

She steps outside, into my personal space, closes the door behind her, and replies, "Just so you know, there won't be any sex tonight. This is purely dinner and conversation. And it's a once-off.
And
if you try and pull that bullshit again, it won't work."

I can't control it—my lips curl up into a smile. The woman has fire in her that I'm not sure I could ever get enough of. "What bullshit are we talking about exactly? You know, so that I don't do it again." She's standing so damn close to me that I'm concerned about keeping my hands to myself, but at the same time, she's not standing close enough.

She places her hand on my chest and lightly pushes me. "You know exactly what bullshit I'm talking about, Tanner. Now, go."

Stepping to the side, I gesture for her to lead the way, which she does, while I follow, making sure to commit every line of her body to mind.

Once I have her settled in the passenger seat of my BMW, I steer the car in the direction of the restaurant I've chosen for tonight. Glancing at her, I ask, "So, did you tick anything off your five-year plan today?" I keep my gaze on her just long enough to see her eyes narrow in annoyance. I'd been aiming for a laugh, but I realise it may take me some time to break down her walls of seriousness. I have no problem with this—I've all the time in the world.

"Smart-arse," she mutters. "Why did you ask me on a date if all you're going to do is make fun of me?"

"I'm not making fun. It's just my way of asking you what you did today."

She doesn't say anything for a few moments and I wonder if I've completely pissed her off or if she can get her head out of her arse and see my sense of humour for what it is. Eventually, she shifts sideways to face me. "I did tick something off my five-year plan today, if you really want to know."

Thank you, God.

"I do. What was it?"

"I paid off the last of my credit card debt, so that means I am debt-free now." The pride is clear in her voice and I respect the hell out of her for clearing her debt.

Shooting her a smile, I say, "Good for you, sweetheart. Not many people manage to do that. I had credit card debt once and all I had to show for it was nights out on the booze, a holiday to Bali, and clothes. I hope you at least bought better shit than that."

"My debt was from two years ago when I helped my sister leave a bad marriage. She needed furniture and bills paid, and the only way I could come up with the money was to get a credit card."

My suspicions that underneath beast mode is an amazing person are slowly being confirmed. I don't know anyone in my circle of friends who would do that.

I glance at her again. "Your sister couldn't afford to pay the debt off?"

"No, she's a single mum with two little kids and can barely make ends meet as it is. I told her I didn't want her to pay it off." The way she speaks about her sister reveals the love she has for her and I wonder about the rest of her family after what she told me about her dad.

"She's your only sister?"

"Yes, it's just Lesley, me, and Mum. Lesley lives in Sydney and Mum is still in Dubbo."

"So how did you meet my sister? Were you over in LA?" I've been trying to piece this together for days.

"No. She saw one of my Instagram posts about my business and contacted me. We did a fair bit of online chatting before I finally met her when she came home a few months ago. I spent a lot of time with her while she was here and then online again while she was in Europe before she came back just recently."

I stop at the traffic light and turn to face her. "I don't know exactly what you do, except for the styling part of your business, but something you've done for her has really given her some confidence, because the Ana I'm seeing now is so much happier and has more faith in herself. Thank you for that."

She blinks a few times and it's like her whole body loosens. When her eyes light up a second later and she smiles, I finally see what I knew had to be under all that armour she wears. Juliette Taylor has a softer side, and I think I'm about to meet it.

Chapter Five

JULIETTE

Crap. This is not how tonight is supposed to go. He was supposed to pick me up, take me to dinner, continue to show me why he's all kinds of wrong for me, and then take me home. And
then
I was supposed to never see him again. Instead, he showed me all kinds of right during the drive here, and then backed that up during the entrée. Now we're having our main course and I'm ready to bow down and declare my newfound fascination for tattoos and beards.

And sexy lips that whisper promises of heaven without even uttering a word.

I've spent the better part of this date explaining my business to him. I love the interest he's showing in it—none of my friends or family seem to understand my entrepreneur thinking, but Tanner appears to really get it.

He leans back in his chair after contemplating what I've just said about social media. "I have a love/hate relationship with it," he finally announces.

I frown as I put my knife and fork down. "Why?"

"I love catching up with mates on there, but I hate the business side of stuff I have to do on Facebook. My customers are always looking for an instant reply, which is not something I'm ever going to give them."

"So your business is on Facebook?" I'm not sure why I thought it wouldn't be.

He chuckles. "I'm not
that
backwards."

Pulling out my phone, I demand, "What's your business name?"

He gives me a look that I am sure would be the male equivalent to a female eye roll. "Tanner Ink."

His Facebook page comes up and I still as I scroll through his posts.
Damn
. Raising my face to look at him, I slump back in my seat and shake my head. Dropping my phone down on the table, I say, "You just sat there through my whole little speech about the importance of social media, not saying a word, letting me think you knew nothing about it, and yet you've got a following of nearly two hundred thousand on Facebook."

He stares at me for a moment. Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on the table and says, "Is that a question, because it sounds like one?"

"No. Maybe…. Why didn't you say you've got this social media gig down?" I feel stupid for assuming he knew nothing.

His chest rises and falls on a sigh. "Sweetheart, I'm not the kind of man to brag about shit all over town. Yes, I work hard; yes, I learn what I need to so I can build my business; yes, I've achieved some awesome things in my life, but to me, that shit's not the important stuff in life. This"—he gestures between the two of us—"is more important to me. And that Facebook stuff? I got lucky when some celebrities promoted me, that's all."

And there he goes again—saying all the right things. The difference between him and other men I've dated, though, is that I believe what he's saying.

I'm about to reply when a guy walks over to our table and slaps Tanner on the back. "Tanner, man! Haven't seen you in months. How the hell have you been? And
where
have you been? Last I knew, you were with Vanessa." He eyes me as he says this, and I can't decide if he's said it to piss me off or out of a genuine interest in what his friend has been doing.

One look at Tanner, though, and I realise this man isn't a friend as far as he's concerned. His displeasure is written all over his face and his body has stiffened in a way I haven't seen yet. "Dwayne, can you not see I'm in the middle of dinner?" His voice carries a warning tone and his laid-back attitude has disappeared.