Never A Dull Moment Read online

  Never A Dull Moment

  Another Romantic Comedy With Attitude

  Donna McDonald

  THE PERFECT DATE, Book 3

  Copyright © 2017 by Donna McDonald

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  Cover by MYST Partners

  Edited by MYST Partners and Madison Kamer

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  The Perfect Date Series

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Note From The Author

  Excerpt: Never Ever Satisfied

  Chapter 1

  Excerpt: The Wrong Todd

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Other Books By This Author

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my partners in writing crime, J.M. Madden and Robyn Peterman. You keep me honest and make me better at my craft. My writing journey would not be the same without you.

  Thanks to Maddie for proofreading and helping me make this a much better book.

  Dedication

  For all the Georgias out there.

  The Perfect Date Series

  The essence of all romantic comedy is that falling in love and navigating an unexpected romance is never easy or simple. Instead, it’s messy and emotional, and if you’re lucky, it’s also sexy and fun.

  Some relationship professionals, like my character of Dr. Mariah Bates in this series, sincerely want to help people find their perfect love match. For the feisty heroines I’ve created, many of whom are older, Mariah’s going to need all the help she can get. Or maybe she just needs to step out of the way. You can be the judge.

  NOTE ABOUT THE HEAT LEVEL: Not being a fan of the word “clean” when applied to romance, I will instead say the heat level in this new series is in the 1-2 range, rather than 3-4 like some of my others. The focus is on sensuality and I’ve packed a lot into these stories.

  Book Description

  What could she possibly have in common with a man whose watch costs more than her car?

  Georgia may be slowing down a bit at sixty, but she isn’t stupid yet. The idea of her genuinely dating Dr. Brentwood Colombo, aka Hollywood when he poses in her doorway… well, that’s just totally insane.

  Where is her dignity? Where is her pride? How did she let her snickering friends dare her into giving him a chance?

  And where is the kind, caring daughter she raised? Mariah’s been replaced with an evil version who keeps insisting she give the womanizing plastic surgeon who dates twenty year olds a fair chance. A fair chance at what, Georgia wonders? Breaking her heart?

  No, thank you. She would rather keep her womanly dignity than see it trampled under Hollywood’s expensive, polished shoes. Now if he’d just stop talking about her perfect, perfect breasts, she might forget about him completely.

  Chapter One

  Hollywood was turning out to be every bit as much trouble as Georgia had feared he would be. He’d already reduced her to begging.

  “You have to help me. It’s not like my phone is full of stuffed-shirt society matrons I can call. You’re the only rich person I know.”

  Georgia bit her lip at how pathetic she sounded. Trudy sniffed at her request as she refilled her coffee mug. Was that a yes sniff or a no? She couldn’t tell.

  “I’m not sure how you think I can help, Georgia. I suppose we could visit my red room. I’m sure there’s some things in there you might be able to use,” Trudy said, shrugging at her thoughts.

  Georgia stiffened on her bar stool. “Red room? Are you saying all wealthy people are into kinky sex shit these days? Okay, that’s a show stopper. I’m too old to get hung up by my wrists.”

  Trudy barked out a laugh and spilled her coffee on the floor. “Who said anything about chaining you up? I’m saying you need to learn the proper etiquette for chaining a handsome plastic surgeon to the wall. Did you know that you have to use the fur lined handcuffs so you don’t damage his evil moneymaking hands?”

  “Are you serious?” Georgia demanded.

  Trudy laughed harder and then shook her head slowly. “You have some strange ideas about wealthy men, Georgia. Have you ever considered getting professional help for that neurosis?”

  “No. I raised a head shrinker from scratch. Mariah’s been laying mental guilt on me since she was a teenager. When she left home, I decided I’d had enough therapy for one lifetime.”

  Trudy rolled her eyes. “I love you like crazy, and I guess I have no room to talk. Heaven knows, I’m no better in the attitude department when it comes to men.”

  She squared her shoulders at the reality of dating when you were older, but managed to retain the humor of their discussion. “Not a single man has ever stayed with me more than a year or two, so don’t rule out the kinky stuff. You may need to do some of it. You and I have to be damn good in bed for a man to put up with our level of shit.”

  “What are you talking about? I was happily married for a very long time. And I’ll have you know, it’s taken me sixty years to hone this attitude.” Georgia pushed away thoughts of Hollywood staring at her breasts before she answered the rest. “We will not be getting far enough on our bogus date to have sex. I just need to fulfill my obligation without embarrassing me or my daughter. The man is used to dating younger women and I’m in over my head. I still have clothes I had when my husband was alive. Now are you going to help me or not?”

  “What do you expect from me, lady? I’m not a freaking miracle worker,” Trudy huffed.

  Georgia lifted both hands in exasperation. “I’m nearly triple the age of his typical dates, Trudy. A couple of his other wives were Mariah’s age. I still don’t know how I got myself into this mess, but I damn well don’t want to show up looking like I feel. I need to create an image he’ll believe for a night.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you calling yourself an old grumpy ass, granny Cinderella?”

  Georgia thought about it and shrugged. “I can live with that. So will you play my fairy godmother?”

  “Well, just you showing up to ask for help at all is a shock. I can see you faking a severe illness before I see you giving in to some man’s emotional blackmail. Damn, you must really like him. Come on, Granny-Ella. Let’s see what I can do for you.”

  Georgia grunted at Trudy’s nickname, putting all the indignation she felt into it. “I do not like Hollywood. I promised him a date and he’s going to do something amazing for Mariah’s business. I’m being altruistic for my daughter’s sake.”

  “Bullshit. You’re acting girly because he’s handsome and charming. You obviously like him well enough to care what he th
inks. You’re not doing this just for Mariah. You need to get honest with yourself,” Trudy said, walking briskly away.

  Georgia followed Trudy through her huge house which still managed to feel homey. Chef Trudy Baker had a lot of friends—famous friends—who liked to come for the kinds of visits family only did in Georgia’s world. Entertaining semi-strangers for weeks on end wasn’t something Georgia could imagine doing, but Trudy seemed to enjoy turning her home into a bed and breakfast stopover once in a while.

  Trudy’s house was a u-shaped, well architected ranch. She followed her down one long side until Trudy stopped in front of a closed door. Taking a big breath, Trudy let it out slowly as she pushed the door open and walked inside. She flipped on the overhead light and sighed in disgust.

  Georgia stood back, afraid to go in after watching and hearing her friend’s reaction. What the hell was in there? Trudy wasn’t afraid of much.

  “Don’t hover in the freaking hallway, Granny-Ella. You wanted my damn help, so get your cranky, ancient ass in here.”

  Georgia rolled her eyes to the hallway ceiling, swore under her breath, and then braced herself. It still hadn’t been enough to prepare her.

  She walked into what had probably been intended to be a medium sized bedroom, but that had been converted into a giant walk-in closet. Three-tiered racks circled all the walls, and some required the tall step stool standing nearby to reach the clothes on the top tier.

  In the center of the room were two enormous, back-to-back dressers, obvious storage for folded items and accessories. Installed on either side of the dressers were shoe racks reminiscent of high-end department stores with dozens of shoes on each shelf. On nearby shelves against the wall, stacks and stacks of shoes were still in their boxes and towered to the ceiling. In the bare spots where the clothing racks ended, there were also two six foot tall jewelry armoires.

  “Holy shit, Trudy.” Georgia’s wandering gaze took in the lavish clothing with astonishment. There was every conceivable color and style. Her mind couldn’t even fathom how much money had been spent to buy what was in this room. The thought of Hollywood having something close to this, filled with his watches and expensive suits, made her want to vomit. She had one black dress… well, two now after the dance she’d gone to with Ann.

  “I bet I spent at least a half a million dollars on these clothes,” Trudy said, looking around. “That’s why I still have them. I tell myself that at least I didn’t collect anything really dumb, like salt and pepper shakers, or gravy boats. Can you imagine having a room full of either of those? People would think I was crazy.”

  “Were all these clothes for your TV work?”

  Trudy shrugged. “Some were for the show. My attorney put getting to keep them in my contract. Then there were local appearances. Oh, and every time I was interviewed on a talk show? Well, that required a new outfit. And the schmoozing—God… the lunches, dinners, parties, and not to mention, the holiday galas. This is a decade’s worth of crazy clothing purchases. I’m not a real trendy person so most of this is classy. Since you and I are nearly the same size, I’m sure we can find you something suitable for your blackmail date.”

  Ignoring the sarcasm, Georgia stared at Trudy’s body hard. “We’re not necessarily the same size. You merely borrowed a pair of yoga pants once and thought they fit you well. Spandex is very forgiving that way. I have way more boobs than you do.”

  “The pants did fit well and I now own four pairs. I’d wear them every day if I never had to go out of the house.” Trudy snorted as she eyed Georgia’s breasts. “I have just as much boob as you do. Mine just aren’t as perky.”

  “Hey, I’ve worked damn hard for these perky girls,” Georgia said, rubbing her forehead as she tried to ease the growing tension there. “I didn’t want to borrow clothes—I just wanted some advice. I was planning to buy something new if necessary. I’m just trying not to embarrass myself… or my daughter.”

  “Or Brentwood Colombo wherever he decides to take you?” Trudy finished.

  Georgia sighed and nodded. “Yes, damn it. Him too.” She looked around the room. “Can’t you just pick something for me?”

  Trudy shook her head. “No. I hired a personal dresser who helped me buy and coordinate this stuff. Now I’ll call Ann to come help. She has excellent taste.”

  “You’re right. I probably should have called Ann, but she’s so busy these days. Do you think she can tear herself away from Cal long enough?”

  Trudy sighed and rubbed her shoulder. “They’re still new to each other. We’ll get our friend back in time. That initial lust happens to everyone, but it doesn’t last. I’ve felt it many times and it always goes away.”

  Georgia shook her head and frowned at Trudy. The woman was the most jaded person about love that she knew—worse even than her. Her own daughter, Mariah, hadn’t been this cynical about finding herself attracted to another cop… and she’d had good reasons to be.

  “Lust lasted nearly an entire marriage with me, which was a fortunate thing for my military husband who wasn’t romantic by any stretch of the word. Cal’s a good man and he adores Ann. Hollywood was right about that. I don’t want to screw up their happy buzz by whining about my stupid date.”

  “I still can’t believe a renowned plastic surgeon helped you chase down Calvin Rodgers for Ann. Sounds like your Hollywood is a good man too, don’t you think?”

  Georgia exhaled. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Trudy chuckled. “Well, I hope you have a lot of fun finding out. Feel free to snoop around in here and pick a few things to try on. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. A cookbook writing friend is coming to dinner. I’m making something special for her.”

  Still in shock over the contents of Trudy’s red room, named no doubt from the ugly wall paper peeking between the racks, Georgia looked around numbly after Trudy left her alone. Finally, she walked to the center of the room and picked up a three inch pair of red stiletto heels from a shelf. They had pointed toes and two thin straps to go around your ankle.

  “Not on your life, Hollywood. Not even if you turn out to kiss as good as you look.”

  Chapter Two

  Who met for coffee to plan a damn date? This was so stupid. Didn’t the man know how to send a text? They’d done that a lot when he’d been helping hunt down Cal. She didn’t understand the need for this get together or why it was important for planning the real thing.

  Since Trudy had obviously bought stock in black cashmere sweaters at one point in her life, Georgia had absconded with one of three identical cardigans she’d found on her scavenger hunt, as well as a surprisingly well-fitted, dark red, silk blouse that she’d worn outside her new black slacks. The pants were slim cut, ankle length, and tapered at the bottom. The style of the pants made them look great with her favorite black ballet flats which she promised herself she didn’t care about Hollywood judging as old and well-used. She’d bought the shoes at a great outlet, and in several colors, because they had looked so good on her narrow feet.

  She’d topped off her mostly borrowed outfit with a dark red, jasper necklace Jellica had made for her. Jellica said the stone was worn by warriors for protection. That had sounded good to Georgia because she needed all the protection she could get from Hollywood… or at least from her own feelings for him. The man seemed to know exactly how to push the wrong buttons. He kept her on edge and she didn’t like being there—not at all.

  She sighed as she walked into the café in his building, frowned as she looked around at the blandness of it, and then swore at feeling so tricked. This wasn’t a café. It was a damn cafeteria. She’d expected an opulence befitting his expensive gold watch, not serviceable plastic chairs and scarred Formica tabletops.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Georgia said under her breath. When all activity stopped and silence descended, she realized all those standing nearby had heard. Raising her chin in the air to hide her embarrassment, she tried for lofty. “I’m here to meet Dr. Colombo. Alleg
edly. I believe he’s expecting me.”

  It came out sounding pompous and churlish, and being nervous wasn’t helping her tone whatsoever.

  “Of course. Dr. Colombo’s table is this way.”

  “Table? Who in hell reserves a table in a cafeteria?” The woman’s quick frown clued her in that she’d actually spoken the rude thought aloud. “Sorry,” Georgia said, tensing up. “I’m just… surprised. He has a habit of doing that to me.”

  Nodding, the woman patted the well-used table top. Georgia raised an eyebrow, but managed to swallow down more comments. “Thank you,” she made herself say instead.

  “Would you like coffee or tea?” the young woman asked.

  “I have to watch my caffeine these days. Water with lemon, please,” Georgia answered.

  A head nod later and the young woman was off. Georgia sighed under her breath and wished Ann had warned her about this place. All she’d heard about was the cozy chat and the dancing at the end of it. Hollywood’s smarmy charm had probably kept her impressionable friend from noticing the worn out atmosphere.

  The water soon appeared, along with a carafe for refills, and a dish of extra lemon slices. A second trip brought an assortment of finger sandwiches and petit four desserts, which she recognized primarily from being Trudy’s guinea pig for her fancy baking stints. Baking had never been her thing. The only dessert she’d ever served in her house came from her local grocery store.