Never Give Up: The Perfect Date, #11

By Donna McDonald

Is there such a thing as being too perfect?

 

Dylan's a genius when it comes to engineering and his bank account proves it. But he's failing in the one area of his life that matters the most. He wants to remarry and has already waited twenty years to do it. Now he's finally found the perfect woman, but marrying again is the last thing Dr. Sydney Hawking wants to do.

 

Sydney can't believe that her dating membership—aka her divorce gift from her friends—has brought such crazy chaos into her already chaotic life. And it only took one date with Dr. Dylan Maxwell to know she was jumping back in too soon. Yes, her divorce is now final. Yes, her ex-husband remarried the day after. The intelligent thing would be to quit the agency before Dylan gets any more ideas about her being his perfect match.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna McDonald
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781950619429

Donna McDonald

Donna McDonald published her first romance novel in March of 2011. Fifty plus novels later, she admits to living her own happily ever after as a full-time author. Her work spans several genres, such as contemporary romance, paranormal, and science fiction. Humor is the most common element in all her writing. Addicted to making readers laugh, she includes a good dose of romantic comedy in every book.

Book preview

Chapter One

Dylan’s mouth quirked as a familiar fire lit his sister’s eyes. Even the puppies climbing all over him couldn’t distract him enough to ignore it.

He could hear Ian, their always irritated assigned driver, yelling at Kelly. He would never agree to this level of monitoring again.

If any of the pet store’s employees had been hovering nearby, they would have heard Ian yelling, which was exactly the kind of attention Ian insisted they avoid.

His yelling was a mood-killer too. Dylan felt sure the puppies were equally disturbed.

He’s got to stop doing this. What’s taking so long? He’s been in there fifteen minutes now. Wrap it up and get back out here.

Dylan knew the ‘he’ in Ian’s rant referred to him. Rio, his normal driver, would have been asking about the puppies and if he needed to make room in the car for one or two. Ian yelled about every stop they made when he was chauffeuring them around.

Not that anyone’s yelling ever bothered his retired Marine sister.

Dylan grinned when Kelly’s eyes narrowed into slits before she held the talk button on the old-fashion walkie-talkie Ian made her carry because he said he didn’t trust her phone not to get hacked.

In hindsight, they’d asked for too much. He’d agreed to the monitoring stipulation because it seemed logical at the time, and he hadn’t thought it would bother him. He was a homebody when he wasn’t working. Outside of visits to see his mostly adult children, Dylan didn’t socialize much.

It definitely hadn’t occurred to him that Kelly would be the one mostly dealing with their constant shadow.

Growing up, she’d been the best older sister a unique younger brother could ever have asked for in life. Now she was the best security person slash bodyguard.

One day he hoped to prove to Kelly that he was worth all the trouble she routinely dealt with on his behalf.

Kelly winked at him before speaking. We copy you. Keep in mind that this is about relieving the stress our engineer is under, not creating more of it with your impatience. Dylan needs mental breaks, so that would be a negative on us hurrying. You’re going to have to trust me that my brother isn’t selling trade secrets to the two puppies in his lap. Circle the block and get a coffee. I’ll contact you when we’re done. Do you copy back?

No response came for a few moments. Dylan raised an eyebrow.

Ian’s shorts are perpetually twisted. I got this, bro. Play while you can, Kelly ordered while she waited.

I’m sorry I ever agreed to Ian.

Kelly laughed. Our torture is nearly at its end. Ian’s cussing me out right now, but he’ll deal.

I copy.

Kelly held up the walkie-talkie, pointed to it, and grinned at her brother. See?

Her irreverent, but firm response to all the Ian-types occupying his world was only one of many reasons he’d happily hired his big sister to run his security when she’d retired from the Marines. People bossed him around less since she’d joined his team.

The device crackled again. You’ve got five more minutes.

Kelly snorted and pushed the button again. Negative. Fifteen more, and that’s my last word on the matter. Keep pushing and Dylan and I will make an afternoon of it.

Then there was a silence that two yipping puppies filled with trying to get his full attention. Dylan used his hands to roll both of them every time they came back for more.

Knowing communication with Ian was done from his sister’s point of view, Dylan smirked when Kelly hooked the archaic communication device onto the sturdy belt of her jeans. Her chin lifted to indicate the pups who were now snuggling up to rest in his lap because he’d worn them out.

What kind of pups are those? Their ears look strange on their bodies.

These are French Bulldogs—a very pricey breed, but cute and loving.

I think you should get them. They suit you.

I can’t—not today, Dylan said. French Bulldogs don’t do well alone, even when you buy two of them. They want to be with their owners more than is possible for me to accommodate. Plus, I’m thinking I want a bigger dog—something lively and intelligent.

How about a Jack Russell Terrier? A friend of mine in the Marines had one of those. It wasn’t huge, but it was the smartest dog I ever saw.

Dylan laughed. "Jack Russells are a bit too intelligent. It would be a blow to my ego for my pet to always be one step ahead of me."

Kelly chuckled as she crossed her arms. I don’t think you’re into ownership. I think you only want to play with a dog occasionally.

Dylan lifted one shoulder and let it fall. Owning a dog is a lofty goal for me. When I finally get one, that would mean I’ve reached a point in my life where my days are my own. I’m close to that now. When I get to that point, I’ll get a dog or two. In the meantime, this is the best way to experience the different breeds and get a feel for what I want. I have to pick the right one.

Not to question your Mensa level brain, Dr. Maxwell, but I believe calling one breed of dog ‘right’ is a subjective opinion.

Dylan grunted. What I mean is that I don’t want to get a dog that turns out to be more work than fun. I couldn’t return it and get another. That would break my heart after all this time. My monogamous views extend beyond my bed, Kelly. It’s best to be careful up front and commit to one I know I will want to be with all its life.

Kelly chuckled. Being selective is a trait I can respect, but one I don’t admire enough to emulate. I get lonely and like my bed warmed.

So did he, but Dylan had long ago grown tired of temporary relationships. He didn’t do well with casual encounters. They always ended in the woman leaving in a huff no matter what he did or said. He viewed sex as a mutually satisfying act not subject to bargaining. It was like breathing or eating or any other basic human need.

Still...

I know you, Kelly James Maxwell. You’d be nothing but happy to find that perfect person to settle down with forever.

I like to think I have a large capacity to be faithful. My longest relationship lasted for several years before it ended. Like millions of other humans, I think I’m waiting to be inspired to settle down with one person. But until that magic event happens, I’m going to meet my needs the best way I can. I suggest you do the same, bro. It’s only logical, and I know you’re all about doing what’s logical.

Dylan shrugged. I suppose in most circumstances for most people that would be a healthy attitude, but...

Kelly crossed her arms. "Yeah-yeah... not for you. You have to look for the perfect woman because that’s how you’re wired. No need to justify your pickiness to me. I’m bossy when I feel the need to be, but I’m not preachy."

Dylan nodded again and smiled at his sibling. I’m glad you came here when you retired instead of moving closer to our parents. I’m also glad you work for me. If you stay on, one day I’m going to make you wealthier than you ever dreamed of being.

Kelly laughed. Not because it was funny, but because Dylan could actually make it happen. But even if it didn’t go as he hoped, guarding her genius sibling was still the second-best job she’d ever had.

More money would be nice, but you’ve already made me wealthy. You gave me purpose, acceptance, and the family I missed while I served my country. Not that I’d turn down a few extra million, but you don’t owe me anything.

Dylan snickered. At least let me buy you a puppy. We’ll call it an early Christmas present.

Kelly grinned. This was a side of Dylan few people ever saw, which was too bad. Like you, I’m never home either. It’s going to be a while before I can properly care for a pet. But unlike you, getting a dog was never my dream. If our parents failed us, it was in not letting us have a pet when we were kids. I didn’t care that much, but we all knew how badly you wanted one.

Mom and Dad said they knew I wouldn’t take the dog with me when I left home, and they were right. Even when I got married at eighteen, I still couldn’t have a pet because I traveled too much. Lily was in grad school and pregnant. In hindsight, I can see they made a wise decision.

Maybe it was wise, but it still broke your ten-year-old heart. Kids don’t get it until much later. Here you are in your forties and still pining for a dog. Now the only thing stopping you is you.

Shrugging, Dylan stood and carried the now squirming bulldog pups back to the kennel attendant. I’ll get a dog eventually. First, I need to get a wife. I miss having a wife more than I miss not having a dog.

Kelly shook her head. Dude, I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but even with all your money, shopping for the perfect wife is going to be a struggle. That face of yours draws women like sugar draws flies, but none of them can handle the real you. You want someone as smart as you. I think she needs to be tough enough to deal with your crazy life.

Which is why I hired professionals to help me surmount the problem of using random attraction as a tool. Bar hopping got women into my bed, but each morning after was the stuff of nightmares. I had to give that up before I grew too cynical about women altogether.

Kelly chuckled as she answered. Not that I’m an expert on happily-ever-afters, but using a dating service is not how love is supposed to work. Where’s the chemistry in an arranged match? Where’s the romance that I know you crave? I know you want that, Dylan. No one else probably knows, but I do.

Dylan grinned. I date for the same reason I visit pet stores. I haven’t found the best match for me at either place yet, but shopping keeps me hopeful. He tapped his chest. I’m following my heart. Both are out there. I know I will succeed.

Shrugging, Kelly smiled at him. You certainly deserve an A-plus for your optimism. I’d bet that fortune you promised me that any decent dog would make you a happy pet owner.

Shaking his head, Dylan smiled back. And I must decline your bet because I know you’re wrong. It wouldn’t be fair of me to take advantage of my cynical sister.

Kelly chuckled. If I thought you could hear me, I’d extend my metaphor to bed partners.

How so? Dylan asked.

Any willing woman in your bed would be better than having no woman in your bed. Physical happiness lasts for all of two seconds anyway. You take life too seriously.

Believe what you want, but I trust the process I’m following, Dylan said as they headed to the door.

Fine. You do you, genius brother of mine. You do you. Smirking, Kelly shrugged as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder and searched for their ride. Here we are in our forties talking about our dating challenges like we’re still teenagers. I think maturity coming with age is a myth.

Dylan sighed and frowned. His hand found its way into the pocket of his slacks. Maturity is subjective, and rarely has anything to do with age. What does it mean when we call someone mature? I doubt anyone could answer that question completely.

Kelly snorted at his philosophical reply and let the matter drop. No one knew better than she did that Dylan got sarcastic and cynical when he got stressed.

If he’d just bought the puppies, he would be in a happier condition, but changing Dylan’s mind took forever. Being obsessed with his own goals was one aspect of her brother’s character that had gotten worse over the years.

In her opinion, something Dylan rarely let affect his decision-making, her brother had sacrificed too much happiness for too long. She watched him becoming more jaded with each passing year since her return. Outside of encouraging her genius brother to cut loose once in a while—something Kelly considered critical after doing twenty years in the Marines. Beyond that, she didn’t have a clue how to help him.

Dylan’s security currently functioned like the well-oiled machine she’d made it to be. She didn’t fear for Dylan’s life now, but she feared for his soul. Their mother advised her to keep out of his business. Their mother said Dylan had become the man he’d wanted to be.

Kelly disagreed. Her new goal was to make sure her extraordinary brother learned to use his amazing brain to help himself. Inside the brilliant and successful engineer lived a lonely, over forty man who wanted a wife and a dog more than anything his money could buy.

Kelly hoped one day someone not related to Dylan would appreciate the irony of that as much as she and her parents did.

Sydney stared out of her kitchen window as she tried to make peace with her newly divorced life. Part of her contemplation required ignoring her two best friends who were currently vying to become her worst ones.

While she watched them in the window’s reflection, Claire frowned as Grace stretched the skin under her chin and viewed it with the camera of her phone.

Look at this. I’m getting work done for sure this time. At least two of my three chin rolls have to go, Grace declared.

Despite her blue mood, Sydney smiled when Claire grabbed Grace’s wrist and lifted her phone hand above Grace’s head.

Look down at your face, not up, Grace. You’re squashing your neck against your chest. Everyone has a double-chin when they look so far down. See? Claire demonstrated by nearly touching her chin to her chest.

Yes. I see what you mean. You might want to keep an eye on that, Grace said, as she lifted her face to look up at the camera. Oh, that looks much better. What would I do without you, Claire?

Probably pay for a lot of cosmetic surgery, Claire replied. She inclined her head toward Sydney staring out the window. Pay attention to the conversation. Remember what we came to do? When Grace lifted both hands in the air and stared blankly, Claire hunkered down and glared. Don’t make me hurt you. You know we came here to cheer you up, Sydney.

Grace turned away from Claire to frown. "She’s a woman with astounding legs and the breasts of a twenty-year-old. Every part of my body is losing its fight with gravity. I don’t feel sorry for Sydney—I envy her."

Giving up, Sydney turned to face her annoying friends. These two weren’t women who politely left when they got ignored. These two were like vampire hunters. They knew how to hang in there until they’d driven the stake completely through the heart.

Today, they’d come to ‘help’ her deal with her divorce. Since she was dealing with it just fine, what help could they provide? Even if she counted shifting her focus from her divorce to them, that would still be a stretch.

She wasn’t mad at Tom for divorcing her. She was only mad about his reasons.

And she was sick and tired of talking about something that was over and done.

Sydney studied her friends. I going to get my implants removed, Grace. They don’t match the rest of me and were a dumb idea. I wish I’d never gotten them.

Grace ignored Sydney and turned to Claire. Is she actually whining about being blonde and beautiful at fifty?

Claire rolled her eyes. "No. Sydney is not whining. Her attitude is simply not filled with gratitude today. That’s why we’re going to help improve her tomorrow. Right?"

I’m physically fit and that’s going to have to be good enough to get me through my golden years, Sydney stated as firmly as she could. She wanted to make sure the two women who’d haunted her kitchen nearly every day since her divorce would finally see she was fine.

Sydney put her hands over her breasts and smirked. Do you know Tom never touched these medical marvels even though he paid for them? I don’t know why I let him convince me that increasing the size of my boobs would make a difference to his interest in me.

Claire snorted. Like every other woman trying to save her marriage, you were determined to ‘try everything’. I think that’s admirable considering what Tom did to you. Boinking his administrative assistant is so cliché, especially since you’ve been sleeping alone in your master suite for so long.

Sydney shrugged. Which is precisely why I don’t understand why Tom wanted me to get fake boobs. He was the one who moved into the guest bedroom ten years ago. He was the man who said I was ‘pressuring him’ for intimacy. How is me asking for sex once or twice a month too much pressure? When we started out, we had sex three times a week, and I was fine with that. He seemed fine with that too. Why did our intimacy have to change so much? He never, ever gave me a reason.

Grace lifted a hand. I wish I could tell you, but my three divorces haven’t made me an expert on cheating men. Maybe Tom can only get it up for women under thirty. Maybe Tom paid for your boobs because he was hoping to rebuild you the way some men restore a classic car.

Claire threw up both hands as a worst-case scenario occurred to her. "Maybe Tom was having an affair ten years ago when he moved into the guest room. Maybe he paid for a set of guilt boobs this year to help you start over when he realized things with Beth were getting serious."

Grace snickered. "The man was cheating on her, Claire. Nothing Tom did was for Sydney’s benefit. But calling them guilt boobs? That’s a good one. Sydney is the third divorced woman I know who got breast implants just before their husbands walked out. Men must strategize about it at the gym."

Sydney closed her eyes and tried not to think about her marital failure or the wasted compromises she made. Would her divorce become a statistic that Grace would one day quote to someone else? It probably would.

Out of loyalty to her husband, she’d never confided to anyone that Tom had an affair a few years into their marriage. She and Tom had gone to therapy back then to deal with his infidelity, and over time she’d forgiven him.

Well, mostly she’d forgiven him.

Does anyone ever completely get over such a thing?

After Tom moved into the guest room, physical love had given way to a platonic fondness for each other. They’d made an okay life together despite their lack of physical intimacy. Tom seemed content and she was only discontented in one issue, which is why she stayed. Well, that and for the sake of the children.

"I admit Tom got my hopes up that getting a breast job might return our relationship to its glory days. His affair with Beth didn’t hurt as much as finding out they got married the day after his divorce from me was final. Why am I the only one grieving