Not Quite Dating (Not Quite #1)(8)
Author: Catherine Bybee

Vague answer. Not that she should care.

Jack finished his pie while Jessie wrapped up two of her tables. Only a sprinkling of customers littered the restaurant when Jack suggested that Jessie sit and take a short break.

Instead, Jessie leaned against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “Jack, listen, I’m flattered.”

“You said that last night.”

“And you obviously didn’t listen. I’m flattered, but I’m not going to go out with you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Her hands fell to her hips. “If you know, then why are you here?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” he said. He patted the seat next to him. “Sit, let me explain.”

Something in the way his eyes followed her around told her he wasn’t completely dispelled from the thoughts of dating her. If sitting would hurry him along, then she might as well get it over with. Jack distracting her all night would end with fewer tips than she needed.

When Jessie slid into the chair beside him, the scent of his cologne washed over her. Musk and spice, very masculine and very Jack.

Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach at sitting beside him, she said, “OK, explain.”

Tilting his hat back, Jack shifted in his seat to give his complete attention to her. “I’ve decided to help you.”

“Help me what?” She hadn’t asked for any help.

“Help you find the rich man of your dreams.”

Jessie’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“You said you only want to date rich men. Well, I know where you can find men like that, and I’m going to help you hook up with one.”

She’d never heard anything more ridiculous in her life. She didn’t even want to honor his words with a response. Jessie started to leave her seat when Jack stopped her by holding on to her arm. “I’m serious.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snapped, doing her level best to ignore the heat of his touch.

“Just sit a minute and hear me out.”

Begrudgingly, Jessie sat back down and shook out of his hold.

“I realize you don’t want to date me. Which is a crying shame, since I think we’d get along great, but if I can’t convince you to go out with me, I can at least be a friend. Nothing wrong with having friends.”

“You and me…friends?”

“Friends. You have those, right?”

“Of course I have friends.” She wasn’t a complete loser. Yet when she thought about it, outside of her sister and a few waitresses at the diner, she didn’t know whom she’d call a friend. Most of her school friends had all gone off to college or somewhere new mothers didn’t. Sadly, Jessie’s friendship pool was rather shallow.

“Great. Friends help friends.”

“And you want to help me?”

“Yep. Do you know where The Morrison is, over by the airport?”

“The hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I know where it is.”

“Well, this Saturday night there’s a big Christmas cocktail party taking place. I happen to know plenty of deep pockets are going to be attending.”

She shook her head. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’ll get you in and point out the men who fit your wish list.”

The Morrison was a top-notch hotel that Jessie had never had the pleasure of visiting. She’d be lucky to afford a Motel 6. “Wait a minute. Let’s say you could get me in—not that I’d have anything to wear to a cocktail party at some fancy hotel, but let’s say you could. Why would a guy who admits to wanting to date me hand me over to a different guy?”

“I told you…I’m deeply wounded you don’t want to date me, but I get it.”

Deeply wounded. Talk about overkill.

“I’m not your type,” he continued. “The least I can do is determine if there’s someone I can help hook you up with to make you happy.”

That all sounded well and good, but something wasn’t right about the proposition. “How exactly are you going to ‘get me in’?”

“I’m serving that night. I can slip you an invitation.”

So he waited on people for a living, too. “Won’t that jeopardize your job?”

He shrugged. “I’m not worried. It’s a temporary thing anyway.”

Still, something felt wrong. Jessie stood and said, “Well, thanks anyway, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

“What if I can get you something?”

She cocked her head to the side, baffled. “How?”

“You wouldn’t believe the things people leave behind in high-end hotels. I found this watch once, cost about two thousand dollars. Some guy just left it on the counter in the bathroom.”

“Didn’t you try and get it back to him?”

“It was in the lobby bathroom. We left it in the lost and found for months, but no one claimed it.”

“So you took it.”

“No, I wore it a couple of times, then I put it back.”

He borrowed it. “Are you saying women leave evening gowns at the hotel?”

“All the time.” His boyish smile was growing on her. It wasn’t as if she’d find a rich husband, or boyfriend for that manner, waiting tables at Denny’s.

“I don’t know…”

Jack stood and stepped close to her. He was a good four inches taller than she was, and Jessie wasn’t exactly short.

“What are you, a size eight, ten?”

“Eight, not that it’s any of your—”

“Business,” he finished for her. “I know.” His white teeth flashed in a grin. “Shoe size?”

She was still stuck on giving out her dress size to a stranger. At nearly five eight, being a size eight was perfect. Still, saying it aloud left a bad taste behind her tongue.

“Well?”

“What was the question?”

“Shoe size?”

“They leave shoes, too?”

“Sometimes.”

“Seven. I wear a seven in shoes.” That was easier to say.

“We’re good then.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Jessie. What do you have to lose? A fancy night out, plenty of champagne, wine, shrimp cocktail, fruit, cheese, the works. All free.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not working, Leanne already told me.”

Jessie shot Leanne a dirty look from across the restaurant. “Traitor,” she mumbled.