| Chapter One "You
want me to do what?" "Come on, Tyler. It's not that
bad." "That's a matter of opinion," Tyler replied,
her fingers dancing over the almost-soundless keyboard. "When
was the last time I asked you for anything?" "Last
week." "Okay. Well, when was the last time I asked
you for something like this?" Tyler stopped typing and
looked at the phone on her desk as if she could see Paul through the speaker at the end of the line. Even though he was her
best friend and was right, she still didn't want to do this. It was absurd. "There is no way I'm going to sit around
with a bunch of straight people and pretend to be your girlfriend for five days. I've done it before, Paul, at a cocktail
party or a fancy dinner with a client. But five days is four days and twenty hours too long." "Tyler." Paul's voice turned serious. "You know how much this means to me. I wouldn't ask if I really
didn't need you." "Paul, when are you going to man-up
and come out of your office closet? You've made that company millions. If they don't like it tell them to get fucked." "It's not that simple, Tyler, and you know it. I don't have more money than
God and men and women following my every word, like you do. I've told you, I need one more big deal in my pocket before I
can write my own ticket and get any job I want. Do you think I like it? Give me some credit. This is a means to an end, nothing
more. Come on, Tyler, please." His voice was almost a whine, which set her teeth on edge. Tyler tiptoed around her real hesitation about going on this trip. "Paul, you know I can't do this." "Says who?" "Paul..."
Tyler began trying to find the words that normally came easily. "Tyler,
you can't not do things because you're afraid." "I'm
not afraid." Get a grip, Tyler thought, after she realized she'd practically shouted into the phone. "Yes, Tyler, you are. Look at your life, your relationships with women. You've
buried yourself in your books, behind Blake, and you haven't been out on a real date in I don't know how long." "Who died and made you my date monitor?" "I'm your best friend, Tyler. That and a myriad of other duties make up that job description. Now, am I right
or am I right?" Paul was nothing but always brutally honest
with her, and most times she loved him for it. But this was another matter altogether. Normal definitely had a new
meaning. He wasn't living in her shoes. He didn't wake up in the morning and see what she saw every day. An empty bed and...
He didn't give her a chance to answer. "Come on, Tyler."
His voice softened like it always did when he showed her how much he cared for her. "Do it for me. No, do it for you."
Paul corrected himself emphatically. He continued his sales pitch, which, unbeknownst to him, wasn't necessary. "They
have electricity, indoor plumbing, and a satellite phone. It's not like we'll be living like the Swiss Family Robinson. I've
seen pictures of the house. It's fabulous." He would know,
Tyler thought. Paul had a natural decorating flair he kept hidden from his tight-ass boss and equally homophobic colleagues.
But he had turned it loose on her house and she would be forever grateful. The only thing she knew about decorating was writing
the check. Tyler recognized his comment for what it was. He
was trying to take the serious edge off the turn the conversation had taken. He was trying to get her to laugh. At times he
was the only one who could, and because of that she said, "All right, but you owe me big time. And I mean B-I-G time."
"You won't be disappointed. I promise you'll enjoy
yourself. I'll make sure of it. You won't regret this." Tyler
hung up but not before murmuring, "Yeah, right." Somehow she knew better. Pre-order
now at Bold Strokes Books | 
