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Scarlett glances at her hands and takes a breath, and then she looks at at me. “Of course. I don’t want this out there, either.”
“People will know of the engagement when it happens, and then we’ll let things end when I say so.” I sit down again, a nervous energy whispering in my veins and I cross my legs once more. “A fight? I’ll think of something.”
She nods. “We can do this.” And then she leans over and places her hand on mine. Awareness shoots through me, right down to my cock, and I’m thankful I’ve got my legs crossed. “So, do we swap birthdays, all of that?”
“Just getting to know each other to start is good.” If I know Jenson, he’ll be looking for that ease, that familiarity. “Everything else will come.”
She blows out a breath and laughs. “This is going to be interesting.” Then she looks down, and I can see the moment the realization hits her that she’s got her hand on mine and she’s suddenly a deer in headlights for a second before she pulls away.
“And the honesty,” I say.
“Honesty.” She flashes a smile that hits hard. It’s a mix of minx and sweetness and nerves all bundled together and it’s intoxicating.
I’m hungry, that’s all. I missed my dinner meeting, and in the back of my head I’m doing mental Tetris with all the other things I need to get done. Dinner is now meant to be late night drinks that I’m going to have to make happen as it’s an important business meet. But I want—need—to spend time with Scarlett.
“When do we get started?” she asks brightly. “In the morning?”
“Hell no,” I say. “We start now.”
Chapter Four
Scarlett
Ooookay, so I might have bitten off a little bit more than I can chew. The whole eyes too big for the stomach metaphor. But…and there’s a but, I decide as I hug my old ratty bear, Mr. Figglesmort to me as I stare up at the ceiling that night.
Hudson is a tall, gorgeous drink of…not water. I’m going with something unexpected, like a dry vodka martini with a hint of olive juice and herb twist. Something with a little spice and flavor you think is just gloriously mixed to taste like water and then it hits you.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I’m all over the place with these analogies, but it’s not like I go around leaping into someone else’s shoes and pretending to fall in love. It’s stupid. It’s…surreal.
We spent about forty minutes in his office chatting about this and that. Movies and food and drinks. He likes fine dining and the fanciest place I’ve been was an Italian joint with red tablecloths and candles on the Upper West Side a few years back when some guy was trying to impress me right out of my panties and onto his dick. It didn’t work. I got food poisoning and I wasn’t into him.
That’s not the point.
The point is, I stuck as close to the truth without giving it. Sarah’s been all over the place, to the trendiest spots in town. When you have the right name, money doesn’t matter. But thank goodness my varied job resume includes high-end event waitressing, so I’ve eaten great food. I just told him eclectic, but between us, I like down-home food. Give me a good burger and a shake and I’m there.
He took off for drinks but said we’d do more tomorrow.
That bad part of my brain wants to think he means the horizontal samba, but he doesn’t. And I don’t want that.
He’s just hot.
And it’s been a long-ass dry spell.
My roomie, Amber, is out, thank goodness. She’s all black curls and big dark eyes and curves that I’ve seen grown men drool over, not to mention get boners at the wrong time over, especially when she wears one of her clingy, low-cut outfits. So she might not be home tonight. But she’s going to want to know what’s up with a sudden job change and the rest.
Actually, if someone had asked me yesterday, I’d have balked at the idea of an NDA. Right now, I’m thankful for it.
No one needs to know. Not even my brother, whose business is in trouble.
It’s people like my fake fiancé to be that cause those problems in the real estate world. Danny works hard, and sure he’s made mistakes and aligned himself with some idiots, but getting a foot in when you’re indie is hard.
He needs money to save his business, and he needs me to do so.
Four weeks.
It’s only four weeks.
