Athena didn’t look so convinced.
“What?” he pressed.
“Well, you’re a Daddy looking for a Little. She’s a Little looking for a Daddy. You seemed to hit it off fast. Instant chemistry. If you ask me, you’re selling yourself short. You’re a good man, Briggs. And, if it’s not weird of me to say, you’re smoking hot.”
He laughed. “Much obliged. You trying to pick me up?”
This time it was Athena who laughed. “Again, you’re a great guy, and beyond attractive. But I’m searching for my Little, just like you’re looking for yours.”
Briggs had been joking with the question. He knew it would never work between him and Athena for the very reason she’d mentioned: they were both Bigs who needed a cutie to hold and protect.
“I hope you find him soon,” he told her.
“Thank you. And I hope you find her soon, too. Or…” Her grin widened, “Perhaps you already have.”
She turned and walked back into the house, leaving him there to ponder what she’d just said.
Damn it, maybe she was right. But… he was still just a guy who painted houses for a living. Not some hotshot Hollywood star or movie mogul.
“Athena,” he called out.
She paused before pushing the heavy, rounded-top wooden door open and casting a glance over her shoulder.
“I’m really not her type.”
He was trying to convince himself of that more than he was her.
“I think you should let her decide that,” Athena replied.
With that, she went back into the mansion.
Damn it if she wasn’t right again.
Chapter Ten
The Polo Lounge was a historic venue located in the Beverly Hills Hotel that had hosted countless Hollywood events.
Sometimes, they were fancy soirees and benefits like tonight. Other times, they’d been drug-fueled parties thrown by rock-and-rollers who did God knew what within those storied walls.
Riley had heard that the hotel had even inspired the Eagle’s song “Hotel California,” but she didn’t know if that was true. She could believe it, though, with the place’s reputation.
Tonight, it was full of people dressed in their best, all hair and makeup done perfectly, as they mixed and mingled among the elite crowd. Music played softly in the background, but no one was there to dance. Most of the dresses wouldn’t allow it, anyway.
Rowan Keene was dressed for the occasion, but he retained a little bit of his bad boy image, wearing a black-on-black tux. The jacket was a slim cut that was tailored to show off his corded muscles and tone physique. It featured satin pink lapels. With no tie, his mesh shirt was unbuttoned to mid-chest.
He looked handsome but wasn’t really Riley’s type. A lot of women went crazy for him. Rebels never seemed to go out of style.
“You look wonderful,” she told him.
The compliment wasn’t returned.
Nodding, his eyes half-glazed, he just said, “You wanna make out or something?”
Nothing like getting right down to it, Riley thought.
Before she could reply, a photographer stopped in front of them, got on his knees, and said, “Smile.”
Riley did. Her ‘date’ did not.