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We shake hands, and I pull mine away. "No flirting, Lord Sommerleigh."
"That wasn't part of our agreement. We already shook on it, so we can't add another parameter."
Oh, the sneaky Brit. He left himself a little loophole that gives him an excuse to flirt with me. Well, I can resist that. I'm a professional, and I will stick to my job.
A memory flashes in my mind—Hugh in nothing but a towel, until he dropped it and gave me a full-frontal view of his nude body.
Damn. Why did I think of that?
"How will this work?" he asks. "We should be seen in public, naturally. But since I need that image repair to happen quickly, how do we fabricate a relationship without it seeming forced?"
"You went to Scotland recently. We can say we met there. I was working with a client, and you were visiting your best friend. We clicked, and things took off from there."
"But I shagged Annabelle after Scotland."
Shoot, I forgot about that. "Okay, we can say we met there and became friends. But we didn't realize how we felt about each other until later."
"Why would anyone believe a clever, accomplished woman like you would want to date a man who fucked a duke's wife in between meeting and falling for you?" He sinks into his chair, his posture slumping. "This won't work. We need more time to build up the farce."
He makes a good point. I would've realized how hard this would be if I weren't still recovering from our kiss. Maybe we don't need a convoluted explanation. Maybe all we need is Hugh.
"You're right," I say. "We do need more time. And there's an obvious solution to that problem."
"What sort of solution?"
I point a finger at him. "You, Lord Sommerleigh. Marshal all your charm and intelligence to convince that distributor to stick with you for a while longer. Come on, you can do it." I lean forward to pat his cheek. "Seduce them into staying. We both know you excel at that."
"Seducing women is my forte. I can't use my Lord Steamy techniques on a company."
"You're creative and smart, and I know you can come up with something. Seduce them, Hugh. It's your only shot at salvation."
He gazes down at his lap for several seconds. When he lifts his gaze to me, I swear I can see a sneaky glint in his eyes. "Will you help me practice my speech? The one designed to seduce a distributor into staying in bed with me."
If he thinks that saying "seduce" and "in bed" in the same sentence will brainwash me into having sex with him… Well, I can't swear it won't work. But I will summon all my willpower to avoid letting that happen.
"Yes, I'll help you," I say. "But we need to get started on fabricating a relationship too. That means going on a date."
"Where and when?"
"Tonight. You choose the venue. But make it someplace where people you know will see us together."
He grunts. "Everyone in the country knows me now, thanks to the Duke of sodding Wackenbourne."
"We can use that to our advantage. Choose a romantic restaurant and make a reservation."
"I doubt I can get a reservation at an appropriate venue for tonight. Everyone will expect me to take you to a renowned restaurant."
"Charm your way into a reservation."
He rolls his eyes. "You overestimate my power over others. Women I can handle. But a maître d'? Not sure I can manage that."
This man confuses the heck out of me. One minute, he's arrogantly certain of himself, the next he's vulnerable and unsure. I wonder if he was always this way, or if his mysterious time in Scotland changed him. I'll have plenty of time to plumb the depths of Hugh Parrish while we fake date.
"You can manage it," I tell him. "Believe in yourself. That's the only way we can save your reputation."
"All right." He grabs his cell phone. "Whilst I wait for a miracle to occur, I'll charm a maître d' into giving us a last-minute reservation."
"Good. You can do it, I know you can."
