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“For defending me. You showed up at exactly the right time.” I stood, suddenly feeling the need to move. “He was losing his shit.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned at me, that easy smile that probably got him out of all kinds of trouble and won over every juror he went before. “So, you want to get a drink and talk about how we’re going to handle this fake dating thing?”

I glanced at the clock on my wall. “It’s not even noon.”

“Tonight,” he clarified. “Come over to my place.”

I hesitated. Going to his house felt like crossing some kind of line. We were already tangled up in a mess of lies and fake romance. Adding his personal space to the equation seemed like a terrible idea.

But what choice did I have? We needed a plan. We needed to figure out how to navigate this disaster we’d created before it spiraled even further out of control.

“Fine,” I said, pulling my phone. “Take my number and text me your address.”

“Will do.” He pushed off my desk, heading for the door. Then he paused, looking back at me with something that looked like genuine concern. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“See you tonight.”

I sank back into my chair and stared at my laptop screen. I’d just agreed to go to Beau Blackwell’s house tonight.

This was either the smartest decision I’d made all week or the absolute dumbest.

Based on my track record lately, I was betting on the latter.

11

BEAU

Istraightened the throw pillows on my couch, then immediately felt stupid for doing it. She did not give a shit about my throw pillows or anything else. This wasn’t a date. Darcy Corwin was coming over to discuss strategy for our fake relationship. That was it. Business. Professional.

So why had I spent twenty minutes deciding what to wear?

I’d landed on dark jeans and a polo. Casual but put together. Not trying too hard. Definitely not trying to impress anyone.

I rarely invited women back to my house. Casual meant not having them show up on your doorstep later. Stopping by to bring me a coffee or whatever. A two a.m. booty call. That had actually happened before. The best life lessons were learned the hard way.

Life was much simpler the way I lived now. I would like to think I’d grown up. Matured. Gotten wiser to the ways of the world. Inviting Darcy to my house was not about trying to impress her with my two-story, four-bedroom, five-bath house on the beach. It was just a house. My goal was to see if there is a real woman hidden under all that ice. Snacks and a comfortable couch had always worked as an easy icebreaker in the past. Why should Darcy be any different?

I’m a charming man, so I’ve been told. I managed to soften her a bit at the gala. Surely, without Spanx and heels, it would be easier to get her to chill the fuck out.

The doorbell rang and I nearly knocked over a lamp getting to the door. Smooth, Blackwell. Real smooth. I opened the door.

Darcy stood on my doorstep in black jeans and a blue silk blouse. Her hair was down again. Without the armor of her usual business attire, she looked almost human.

“You found it okay?” I asked, stepping aside to let her in.

“GPS is a wonderful invention.” She walked past me, her eyes scanning my living room with the same analytical precision she probably used on quarterly reports. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. Want the tour?”

She shrugged, which I took as a yes.

I led her through the main floor, pointing out the kitchen, the living room, the home office I rarely used because I had a balcony with an amazing view. Fresh air did wonders to clear the mind. The place wasn’t huge by Hollywood standards, but it was mine. Modern furniture, lots of windows, and amazing views.

“The real selling point is upstairs,” I said, gesturing toward the staircase.

She followed me up to the second floor with a second living room and more floor-to-ceiling windows that opened to a large balcony.