A haze covered her brain. “There we go?”
“Sure. That was fine.” He set her away from him. Increased the distance between them to a few feet.
The man was an idiot.
“Fine?” She could barely feel her legs.
“Yes. I’m confident we can fake it.” He started walking around the room, almost pacing. “We’ll start with dates. In public. Let people see us together.” He nodded as he continued the one-sided conversation. “I’d say in a week we move you into my place and announce the engagement.”
“That’s too fast.” She was impressed her brain even spit that sentence out. Right now she couldn’t think at all. The kiss had blown out every rational thought and had her wanting to slide that tie right off him.
“Well, it looks as if you’re ready to pack.”
“I need to sit.” She plunked down hard on the armrest of the couch and struggled not to run her fingertips over her lips.
“We’ll have a party—”
“No.” Good grief, he was already planning. That was enough to snap her out of it.
“Not a big, flashy Christmas party. Just the normal engagement party.”
It took a few seconds but her common sense came back. Doubt rushed in right behind it.
“First, it’s March. Second, I’m Jewish.” That seemed important to throw in there even in a fake engagement, so she did. “And third... I fear your idea of normal.”
“We invite the people who need to see us.”
People who would later wonder what happened and why it all ended, but he seemed to ignore that part. Fine. It was his problem and they were his friends, so he could figure it out. But she did have one issue she could not ignore. “And what do I tell my brother to keep him from killing you?”
“That we sparked. Tell him a one-night stand turned into something more.”
Derrick. Sex. She blocked the thoughts that rolled through her head. The kiss had been enough to unravel her. Anything more would be a huge mistake. “You want me to lie to him?”
“That’s the point. We lie to him and the public to diffuse Noah’s claims.”
She couldn’t blame Derrick for that requirement. Noah hadn’t exactly been subtle in his attack on Derrick to date. But something about his self-assurance about this agreement and all these details started an alarm bell ringing in her head. “You have this all figured out, don’t you?”
“I thought so.”
She swung her foot, letting the pink slipper flip through the air. “What does that mean?”
“You’re not what I expected.”
She stilled. “Right back at ya.”
“Lucky for us, I can adapt.”
Yeah, lucky her. “You don’t exactly strike me as a guy who enjoys surprises.”
Some of the tension drained from his face as he stared at her. That sexy little smile of his returned. “Maybe I can change.”
She hadn’t known that to work with any guy ever. “Oh, come on.”
He walked up to her and picked the agreement off her lap. “Sign.”
“You know you can’t date anyone else while we’re pretending to like each other, right?” For some reason it was suddenly very important to her that he know if she did this, they did it together. They’d both suffer.
He made a face. “Does it say that?”
“It will when we write in a bunch of notes in the margin and both initial them.” She tapped the agreement. “Basically, every ridiculous provision that applies to me will now apply to you.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Fine.”
That was almost too easy. “That means you’re stuck with me for... Wait, there’s no end time on this agreement.”
His eyebrow lifted. “I’m aware.”
For about the hundredth time since she’d met him yesterday she got the sense she was being outmaneuvered. She hated the sensation. “You get two months of fake fiancée time.”
“That might not be enough. Say at least three.”
She reached down and picked a pen up off her coffee table. She clicked the end and handed it to him. “I’m sure you can adapt to two.”
“It seems you think I’ll be adapting a lot over the next few weeks.” He sounded stunned by the idea.
“I’m happy you realize that. It will make our time together, limited though it may be, more tolerable.”
His smile widened. “We’ll see.”
The DC Insider: We are hearing that our Hottest Ticket in Town wants to get serious with his new lady but the lady’s disgruntled baby brother is having none of it. He’s making some big claims, all of which Derrick Jameson denies with a shrug. But can this budding romance bloom with all these distractions?
Ellie was starting to think her headache would never go away. It thumped in her ears and over her eyes. Even the back of her neck ached.
She’d had two employment interviews today and nothing. Well, not nothing. In the second, the interviewer wanted to talk about Derrick. He didn’t specifically ask about her dating life but he bounced around the topic, honing in on her “influence” over Derrick and his decisions and questioning if that would be a conflict. Since she was trying for a generalist HR position—one unrelated to Derrick or his habit of buying up most of the property in the city—she couldn’t imagine what Derrick had to do with her possible paycheck.
Being a fake fiancée had sounded easy, two months of playtime while they went to dinner and she didn’t panic about the water bill, but it was starting to take over her life. In addition to thinking about him and that voice...and that face...she had other issues. She’d splurged on a muffin at the coffee place around the corner that morning and two people took her photo.
And then there was the Insider. Her teeth ground together at the idea of being in the Insider’s daily round-up section for two more months. Derrick needed to knock that off. She knew she should have insisted on a “no talking to gossip sites” clause in that stupid agreement. But she hadn’t, so now she nursed a glass of wine as she propped her feet on her coffee table and tried to pretend she was stuck in a bad dream.
She’d managed to kick her heels off and find her pink slippers. She had no idea where she’d thrown her suit jacket. Since she couldn’t afford new clothes or a big dry-cleaning bill right now, not when she was saving every penny just in case, that could be a problem. She’d just leaned her head against the couch cushion when she heard the rattling. She stared at the ceiling for a second, trying to place the sound.
Jingling. Keys.
The mix of sounds had her jackknifing and jumping to her feet. The wine went everywhere. Down her shirt. On her couch. A line ran over her hand as more dripped onto the carpet, destroying any chance of getting that security deposit she so desperately needed back.
The door opened and she spun around, ready to throw the glass. She stopped just in time.
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