Free Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) by R.C. Martin

stronger than me. When he presses the phone to my ear, it’s already ringing. My mouth hangs open in shock and horror as I glare at him. I’m just about to call him something foul when a deep voice that makes me weak at the knees fills my ear.
    “This is Jude.”
    My glare disappears as my eyes grow wide in panic. Geoffrey grins at me before signaling that I speak.
    “Um, hi,” I manage.
    A beat of silence passes between us.
    “Teddy?”
    “Yeah. It’s me.” My heart is beating a mile a minute, and my stomach feels like there are a thousand little butterflies dying to be set free.
    “You received my gift.”
    “Yeah. I mean, yes . They’re beautiful,” I say, willing myself to sound like a human being capable of speech.
    Geoffrey nods at me, taking my hand and bringing it up to the phone, encouraging me to hold it myself. I obey. But instead of leaving my side, he sits right next to me and leans in close.
    “I wanted to call and say thank you.”
    “It was my pleasure. May I ask if you have reconsidered my dinner invitation?”
    “Uh…I’m—I’m thinking about it,” I reply nervously.
    He chuckles and my breath catches in the back of my throat.
    “What must I do to convince you, Teddy? I fear I won’t be able to get you off my mind until you say yes.”
    I can’t help it. I smile, a blush heating my cheeks.
    “Nothing, Judah—you’ve been generous enough. I just need to think about it.”
    “Very well. I’ll be waiting.”
    “Okay.”
    “Fair warning, Ms. Fitzpatrick, I’m not a very patient man—especially when it comes to a woman as beautiful as you. Have a good afternoon, Teddy.”
    He hangs up without another word, and I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at it blankly. For a minute, I don’t have any words. The man turns me upside down. I don’t even know him, and yet he makes my heart race and my palms sweat after a two-minute telephone conversation. I can’t explain it. It’s as if my attraction to him supersedes all reason. That in and of itself should be a red flag, but I can’t deny that a small part of me is interested—even if just for one night, one meal.
    I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel Geoffrey’s lips press against my temple. “Baby girl, you’re letting that man take you to dinner if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

 
    I wake up seven minutes before my alarm clock and smile, happy that I can turn the thing off before it makes a sound. The sun is already up, fighting its way into my bedroom through the thin curtains that cover my window. Knowing that I have a full Saturday ahead of me, I don’t linger in bed. I stand, stretch, and head straight for my coffee pot.
    I stop dead in my tracks when I reach the mouth of my kitchen. I’m not quite sure how, but I forgot about the flowers I brought home yesterday—the bouquet making my one-butt kitchen look even smaller than it already is. Unlike the vibrant arrangement that still sits at work, this one is full of muted colors: pale pink peonies, white roses, and light yellow gerbera daises. I press my lips together, fighting a smile as I inch my way further into the room.
    After starting my morning brew, I reach for the card that was delivered with the flowers late yesterday afternoon.
     

     
    I pinch my bottom lip between my fingers, propping my hip against the counter as I stare at his handwriting. In spite of his gorgeous gift, I haven’t responded yet. Regardless of how it might seem, I’m not trying to string him along. I’m not. But there seems to be a little bit of a discrepancy between the man who approached me in the gallery and the man with impeccable taste in floral arrangements.
    He told me he was a gentleman, and the flowers actually support that argument. However, he made it very clear that he has an interest in sleeping with me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, I can’t deny that a man as gorgeous as him showing interest in me makes my insides