Which made Thomas all the more intrigued. “Why don’t you say it fast, like pulling off a bandage?”
“Okay.” But she still took a moment during which she sucked in a deep breath. “It’s just that, to me at least, Mel seems more your type. Yet, when you met her earlier today, you didn’t pay very much attention to her.”
More his type? Hmm. Thomas supposed that, except for her petite stature, Mel Sutton was in league with the sort of women he tended to date. At least her physical appearance. She was sexy and beautiful. Oddly enough, he hadn’t been attracted to her. And even if he had been, since he’d gone to Literacy Liaisons to see Elizabeth, his pseudofiancée, it would have been impolite to openly ogle her friend.
“I didn’t mean to offend her,” he began.
Elizabeth shook her head. The band loosened again. “You didn’t offend her. I was just surprised that, well, that you didn’t—”
She stopped abruptly. Thomas had a feeling he knew why. Now, he was a little offended. “That I didn’t what, Elizabeth? Hit on her?”
“Well, no.” She moistened her lips, readjusted her headband again.
He was tempted to pull it off completely. He didn’t care for the prim look. He liked her hair better loose so that, if he wanted to, he could run his fingers through it.
“Then what?”
“Okay. I did think that maybe you would … hit on her, to use your term. And, quite frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”
Oh, he was definitely offended. “Because I’m a lecherous pig.”
She blinked at his bald statement. “No! It’s just that Mel’s gorgeous.”
“So?”
On a frown, she asked, “Are you going to sit there and tell me you didn’t notice?”
“No. I’m not blind, so, sure I noticed, just like I would notice a gorgeous sunset or a stunning piece of artwork. I appreciate beauty in all things. Everyone does. That’s human nature. But I am capable of some restraint, you know,” he finished dryly.
He thought that would be the end of it. Subject closed. It wasn’t.
Chin notched up, Elizabeth declared, “Just so you know, Mel is every bit as pretty on the inside as she is on the outside. She’s not merely an attractive package.”
“Even if she is a packaging engineer.”
His attempt at a joke fell miserably flat.
“Mel is smart and funny and generous, not that most men ever figure that out or even bother to try.”
Her vehement defense of her best friend might have been touching if it hadn’t also highlighted Elizabeth’s own insecurities.
“So are you … every bit as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside, from what I can tell.” Indeed, the more he saw, the more he liked. And the more attractive he found her to be.
That disturbed him a little. What was it his dad had said just prior to going on one of his drunken binges? That he’d fallen in love with Thomas’s mother not in spite of her quirks and imperfections, but because of them.
Elizabeth was quick to disagree with his assessment. “I’m not pretty. I’m not ugly or anything, but …” She fiddled with the headband again. “I’m rather plain.”
“Plain?” Did she really think so? With that lush mouth and those rich, dark eyes? Not a chance. He might be out of line, but he reached over and tugged the headband free, tossing it on the coffee table like a gauntlet. A cascade of satiny tresses fell forward, all but obscuring her face before he pushed them back. “From where I’m sitting you’re very pretty,” he challenged.
A blush stained her cheeks as she fiddled with the stem of her wineglass.
It had been a long time since Thomas had been around a woman who became flustered from a simple compliment. “By the way, Elizabeth …?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not most men.”
AS IF she needed reminding on that score. Quite frankly, Thomas was unlike anyone she’d ever met—personally or professionally. And that was saying a lot given all of the doors upon which she’d knocked during the past several months to raise funds for the endowment.
She still wasn’t quite sure how to act around him in part because their relationship was professional and personal at the same time. It didn’t help that she found him so appealing. But that was superficial. It was based on sexual chemistry, she reminded herself. Beyond his good looks and his love for his grandmother, what did she truly know about him? If she was to pull off her part as his fiancée—and that was her only motive here—she needed to know more about him.
Much more than that she found him too handsome and charming for her peace of mind.
Besides, she’d rather he be the one in the hot seat.
“You know, I just realized that while I’ve been telling you a lot about myself, I don’t know nearly enough about you except that you matriculated from Michigan and have the good sense to be a fan of Alfred Hitchcock.”
“What else do you want to know?”
Where to start? Favorite color? Favorite dessert? Where he went on his last vacation? How old he was when he stopped believing in Santa Claus? Benign topics, all, and definitely the sorts of things a fiancée should or would be expected to know.
But the question she heard herself ask was “When did your last relationship end?” Followed quickly by “You’re not involved with someone right now, are you?”
Last night, Thomas hadn’t kissed like a man who was stepping out on his girlfriend, but then their situation was hardly normal. The kiss had been for effect. It was intended to put them both at ease, not that the objective had been achieved as far as Elizabeth was concerned.
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
She let out a breath that she hadn’t been aware she was holding. “Good. I mean, it would be awkward otherwise. For her. And, well, for me. I’d hate to be the ‘other woman,’ even if only in theory.” She ordered herself to stop babbling and cleared her throat. “And as for my other question, what’s the answer to that?”
Thomas’s expression turned oddly introspective as he studied his wine. After taking a sip, he said, “I don’t know that I’d necessarily call it a relationship, though it was exclusive for as long as it lasted.” He looked up, his gaze locked with hers. “When I’m seeing someone, Elizabeth, I’m faithful.”
“We’re not really ‘seeing each other,’” she said before she could wonder if he even meant to apply monogamy to their situation. Hoping to lighten the moment, she added, “I mean, could it even be considered cheating if said cheating involved a fictitious fiancée?”
At his lifted brow, she figured she’d made things clear as mud with her attempt at humor.
“Fictitious or not, I won’t be dating during our … engagement.”
That should have been reassuring, except that it called to mind another question Elizabeth realized she hadn’t yet gotten around to asking. “How long will that be? You never actually said.”
He frowned. “I don’t know the exact length of time, but I’ll only need your, um, services—” He must