Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Then she hangs up.
Just…hangs up.
Leaving me alone with the wickedly handsome man currently stretching out on my still-made hotel bed. He parks his hands behind his head with a grin, before asking, “So, how do you want to play this, Em? Personally, I think we have to have been seeing each other for a while. A lengthier connection makes everything far less scandalous. So, assuming you haven’t been dating anyone Stateside…”
“I haven’t,” I say before I’ve given my lips permission to move. “But that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to any of this,” I hurry to add. “I don’t like lying. I’m not a liar.”
“Well, neither am I, love, but sometimes a little truth-bending is necessary in the name of the greater good.” His brows lift. “Speaking of the greater good, have you checked your email recently?”
Frowning harder, I nod. “Yes, why?”
“You should have received something hopeful from Belinda, yes?”
“No, I—” I cut a glance toward my laptop. “I don’t think so, but I guess I could have missed it in all the…excitement.”
“Check and see,” he encourages. “I stopped by her shop this morning for a little heart-to-heart. Once I explained how sorry you were, she agreed to give you another shot at a consultation.”
I stand up straighter, hope flooding through my chest. “What? Really?”
He nods toward my computer again. “Really. See for yourself. I’m not sure what times she’s offered, but I would recommend rearranging your schedule to accommodate her.”
“Oh my God, of course, obviously.” I lean over the bureau, scrolling through my email with shaking fingers, breath rushing out when I see a message I apparently missed. “You’re right. She reached out about half an hour ago. She said she can do Thursday morning! Right before she opens. Which is perfect, I—” I break off with another relieved exhale as I spin to face him. “Thank you, Olly. Seriously. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
He beams. A little smugly.
But hell, a little smugness is completely deserved.
And I do really appreciate his help.
But that doesn’t mean I think it’s a good idea to lie to the entire world…
I’m about to tell him so—and do my best to explain why even casual lies are against my moral code and better judgment—when a message pops through on my phone.
It’s my contact at Fletchers, Christoph, asking if I’m the woman in the tabloid photos that are all over the U.K. this morning.
“Damnit.” I knead at the stress knot forming in my neck.
“Bad news?” Olly asks.
“It’s all bad news this morning,” I mutter.
Now, I’m going to have to explain myself to my client. And I’m sure that explanation will be a lot less damning if I tell Christoph that my “boyfriend” and I got carried away with our reunion after months apart instead of confessing to a sloppy one-night stand with a stranger I didn’t realize was a paparazzi target.
“Okay. Fine,” I mutter, shutting my phone off with a jab of my thumb and tossing it onto the bureau by my shoes. I’ll get back to Christoph later, after Olly and I have everything worked out. “A fake relationship it is.” His expression lifts, but before he can speak, I warn, “But we’ll need rules. Iron-clad ones. And a backstory to match”
He nods. “Of course. I would expect nothing less. I know how much you like rules. And lists.” His eyes glitter as he adds, “I’m assuming there will be lists? I admit, I’ll be disappointed if I don’t get a least a list or two of my very own.”
“I’m serious,” I say, refusing to be drawn in by his charm. Not again. “We’ll need to be smart about this. And careful. Very careful. If we get caught in a lie, it would make an already bad thing a hundred times worse.”
Sobering, he says in a softer voice, “Yes, Emily. I understand. And I won’t let you down, I promise.”
My stomach flutters at the sincerity in his gaze, that same gaze that penetrated my soul last night as other parts of him penetrated…other parts of me.
The flutter prompts me to whisper, “And it’s going to be fake, Olly. It has to be. I don’t have the bandwidth for anything more. I didn’t before the tabloid disaster this morning, and I certainly don’t now.”
“I understand,” he says with only the slightest hint of disappointment, and he’s already smiling again as he adds, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun along the way. It’s Christmas, after all. The time for joy and good cheer.” He bounds off the bed. “Get dressed.”
I blink. “I am dressed.”
“I mean dressed dressed,” he says, adding in response to my no doubt perplexed expression, “In something you can wear to a society luncheon. It’s an old-school crowd, so best if it’s a dress that hits below the knee. With tights of some kind. Mother has a thing about people showing up to functions with bare legs, even in the misery of summer.”