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“And you’re okay with that?”
“You’re paying well. Why wouldn’t I be? As long as it’s above board.”
He frowns. “Obviously.”
“You…” I take a breath. “You don’t want to see the other women?”
“Fuck no. The fewer people who know about this the better. There’ll be an NDA and contract, of course. With some added…” His gaze slides over me, “rules.”
“I’m fine with that. I don’t usually dress like this. As I said, I’m riding and I can’t do that in a dress and heels.”
I realize right then that I want this. Not just the job I thought was on offer for four weeks, but all of it. I wouldn’t have jumped in by accident if I didn’t, but I’m surprised with the slam of need and determination that hits me in this very second.
A four-week contract with Hudson Sinclair will get my brother out of the fix he’s in, and I’ll be able to more than make rent. Sarah didn’t tell me the exact amount, but her vague hundreds of thousands she said he’ll pay because he’s in a bind is a godsend. Now I know what the bind is, at least surface-wise, I can do it. After all, it’s just pretend. How hard can this be?
Not very is the only answer I can come up with.
“Is that a yes?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he murmurs, crushing all my dreams of the moment. “Honestly, I wouldn’t date you.”
I narrow my eyes, toss the envelope down, and stalk up to him, poking him in the chest. Warmth zings through me at the contact. “That is rude.”
“Scarlett.” Up close I can smell him. Leather with a hint of lavender and dark honey that shouldn’t work but does, and he closes a hand around mine, pulling it from his chest. I shiver, a thrum running through me of something that’s suspiciously like wanting. “I just meant people who know me know the kind of woman I—date.”
“You mean sleep with.”
He ignores me. “I need someone who can keep up socially, and by that I mean look the part. I don’t waste my time, so—”
“Have you heard of opposites attract?”
“I’ve heard of fairies in the bottom of the garden, but I don’t believe in that either. I don’t waste my time.”
“You must be fun at parties.”
He smiles and my knees turn wobbly and liquid. “I don’t go to those kinds of parties.”
“There are the other women here—”
“I said no to that.” He tilts his head, looking at me, then shakes it. “If not you, I’ll go back to the drawing board.”
“I need this.” The words are out before I can stop them. But something changes in his dark gray eyes, like a flash of heat lightning.
“The job part? That’s real. You’d have to work for me, too.”
“I assumed that.” Inside, my mind won’t stop yelling the word shit at me. “And with the rest? I’m very adaptable. But I can do the job in my sleep.”
That’s a total lie. But again, how hard can it be?
“That’s another issue. I wouldn’t hire you. You’re in…shiny pants.”
“Leggings.” He’s still holding my hand and his thumb is absently sliding over my knuckles, making me shiver with a thousand softly electrified nerve endings. And then I remember my bag. “Do you have an en suite?”
“Over there.” He lets go of me and points to his left.
“One minute.”
I turn, glad for the messenger bag strapped over my back, like a backward baby sling, and hurry into the restroom and close the door.
