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“It’s what a true boyfriend would do. Plus, you’re the one who asked me to help on their lease extension.”
He’d hit the crux of the problem. I needed to enough distance to keep this fake thing fake. “But we’re not real. And besides a suit from Manhattan showing up would scare everybody.”
He chuckled. “You think I’m that scary?”
“Not anymore, but they will. I need time to prep them.”
That brought a smirk to his face. “I’ll wait to hear from you. Enjoy the sunshine.”
“For as long as it lasts,” I quipped. Rain was due later today. “I have more work to get through. Is it okay if I set up on the dining room table?”
“Use my office. Mi casa, su casa.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course not. Let me know if you find that blow-up doll I lost.” And then he was gone.
Why had he looked happy? While I worked on another bite of my meal I wondered what our trajectory was. But that was only half the question. Once again, he’d been on the verge of kissing me. Why had I ruined it? Why had I run away?
The way we’d been talking on our dates, fake or not, had moved from combative to interesting. Evan had shown me a lot more depth than any of the other guys I’d been on dates with. They’d generally had the goal of hurrying up the talking and getting to the part where they learned if they could get into my pants or not.
With Evan, it was different. Since sex had been off the table from the beginning, we could linger and talk without the pressure to move to buttons and zippers. Somehow we’d gotten to a more personal, more intimate stage. Just holding hands with him was both exhilarating and scary. The slightest brush of his touch sent alarming shivers through me. My body wanted him more than my brain would allow.
Going back to what he’d said his image consultant told him made me laugh out loud. He needed a woman hecouldbring home to mom for dinner. That certainly wasn’t happening with me. With our families’ history, I was not going to be welcome.
My phone vibrated, pulling me out my mental question loop.
GWEN: Brunch this Saturday?
It had been several weeks since we’d gotten together.
CHELSEA: I can’t this weekend.
They were bound to want an update on me and Evan. How was I supposed to explain our almost kissing? How was I supposed to explain my face? I didn’t understand those things myself. Or what about me thinking he’d wanted me in his bedroom the first night?
That last one was sort of funny, embarrassing but funny. Still, Chelsea’s message gave me an out. Maybe next week or the week after, I’d understand where Evan and I stood.
ME: Me neither.
I put the phone down, and once again my thoughts turned to Evan. He was a dangerous commodity. I could sense that it would be easy to get lost in him—like the moth that sought out the flame only to learn too late that it was a very bad idea.
* * *
Evan
Charlie started rightin as soon as I answered her call. “You move fast, Mr. McAllister. It’s a little earlier than I would have recommended, but good for you.”
After getting reamed by her before, I’d accept any compliment. “It’s Evan, and which good move are we referring to?”
“Moving the girl in with you.”
“She has a name, and it’s Alexa.”
“Yes, Mr. McAllister, Alexa. Now, how many women have you had at your place—and I mean living with you, not weekend trysts and the like?”
I held my temper. Her view of my lifestyle wasn’t very complimentary, but if it was born of reading the tabloids and blog sites, that explained it. “You’ve been reading up on me. What is John Q. Public’s take on that question?”
“Mr. McAllister, I can’t find a reference to you having live-in girlfriends in the past, but that kind of thing isn’t well reported, which is why I’m asking you. I don’t want to be blindsided here.”
