Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Think about it,” he presses. “You were going to be my dating coach for the next week. We were going to practice-date anyway, right? But if we kept up with just practice-dates,” he continues, glancing around, “there’s a chance someone could see us practicing as I…” He stops. Curves a hand around the back of my neck, making my pulse race. “Touch you the way you want.”
He has a point there. One he reinforces when he drops a soft, sensual kiss to the base of my ear, then whispers, “But if we’re fake-dating, it’s no problem. Think of it like a cover. Protection,” he says, seductively, making me bend as I melt more into his open-mouth caress.
I pull away so I’m not distracted by his talented mouth. “So you’re un-clienting me to fake-date me?”
His smile is so pleased. “The money for your services already went to charity. You’re not matching me anymore.”
I can’t even suggest I’d match him in the new year, when this temporary thing is behind us, since it would be wrong for me to suggest him as a prospect after I’ve been intimate with him. Sloppy seconds and all. But still, there’s an issue that nags at me. “We’ll be lying to your teammates,” I say.
He scoffs, smirking. “Sweetheart, they started this. Let’s finish it.”
That’s fair. But there are a few other hurdles in our path. “We have to tell Jason the truth. I don’t want to lie to him…well, about whether we’re really together or not.”
“Agree. He’s always been in on the practice-dating, so that makes sense.”
I noodle on his offer. On the ethics. On the way I want to handle myself. I can’t deny that I’m wildly attracted to this man, but he said it himself—he’s not going to fall in love with the first person he dates. And I don’t even know for sure that I’d be ready for a real relationship again. Fake-dating is safe. It’s the easiest option. Plus I hate feeling like I’ve failed. I experienced enough of that in my relationship with JD. And I’ve felt it plenty in the last few days, failing at finding him a match. “Okay, but even though you’ve fired me as a coach, I still want to work on your dating skills. As a friend. As someone who cares about you. It won’t be official, but I want to help you. It’s important to me.”
“You drive a hard bargain. But…I agree.”
“And when the gala is over, we need to say we decided we were better off as friends.”
“Easy,” he says, miming marking off a check box.
Am I really doing this? “I can’t believe you just convinced me to fake-date during Christmastime.”
He laughs lightly. “We’ve been fake-dating since the Cozy Valley Christmas tree farm.”
“Please,” I scoff.
He holds up his hands. “You said you wanted to get to know me that day. And you did. That was just like a date.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“I know. I said it was just like one. Ergo—a fake-date.”
“Rowan,” I say, fighting off a smile.
“Well, it was definitely a fake-date at the Ferry Building then.”
“How do you figure?”
He arches a brow. “We shopped together. You shared something vulnerable about your ex. I bought the chocolate. I carried all the bags. Overdelivering, like you said a man should do.”
I huff. This man. He did overdeliver. And he really pulled out all the stops at the Candy Cane Diner the other night—he arranged for The Mistle Bros to play sexy Christmas music for me. That can’t have been easy for him either, given his feelings about the holiday. I mean, it’s not like I asked him to eat a pear but listening to all that Christmas music must have tasted like one.
Still, I have to hold my ground. It’s how I’ll stay…strong in the face of all his seduction. “Please. That was hardly a date.”
“You’ll admit it soon enough. That we’ve been fake-dating for a while now. I knew for sure we were after the frozen fruitcake incident.”
I lift a brow in question. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that is.”
“Doctor McGee. She started to tell me about where people put frozen fruitcakes.”
I shoot him a stern look. “Rowan, do I need to teach you what not to discuss on dates?”
“You can have your way—teach me and fake-date me.” He brushes some strands of hair from my cheek, like he knows exactly how to push all my buttons. “And I’ll show you how good I am at fake-dating.”
Those words spark an idea. I cross my arms. “Fine. Prove it then. Prove how good you are at fake-dating by taking me on the most amazing fake-dates you can possibly think of from now till the gala.”
His gaze holds mine, his eyes sparkling with delicious satisfaction. “Let’s bet on it.”
“What are the stakes?”
“If I take you on the most fantastic dates, you’ll admit you’ve been fake-dating me since the Christmas tree farm.”