“Looks like you won’t be eating alone, after all,” Shannyn whispered wickedly, as if she was glad to see Giselle. “I call that kismet.” She winked at him, then strode away with purpose.
Before Ty could follow, Giselle was in front of him. She dropped her hands on his shoulders and leaned close to press a trio of kisses to his cheeks, effectively blocking his view of Shannyn’s departure. Her perfume surrounded him as if she was staking a claim and Ty wasn’t surprised that she didn’t even acknowledge Shannyn’s presence.
He also wasn’t surprised by the mercenary glint in Giselle’s dark eyes, now that he was looking for it.
“Naughty Ty-lair,” she murmured with a smile, rapping a finger on his chest. “To not answer my calls.” She clicked her tongue and tugged his tie a little as she scolded him.
Ty glanced over her shoulder, but Shannyn was already leaving the building. She’d pulled up her hood and was moving quickly. In a heartbeat, she’d disappear into the crowd of people in the streets, indistinguishable from the others in the rain.
He wanted to chase her, to stop her, to convince her to linger.
Giselle placed a fingertip on Ty’s chin and turned his face to meet her gaze. There was assessment in her eyes and he knew she wasn’t as oblivious to Shannyn’s presence as she might want him to believe. “When mes amis mentioned the restaurant they wished to try tonight, I knew it was close to your club. I could not pass by without inviting you to join us.” She slid her hand across his chest, then put her hand into his elbow in a proprietary way. Her touch didn’t make him simmer like Shannyn’s did. “Tell me you will not decline an evening together.”
“I have to,” Ty said, extricating himself. “I need to work.”
“But I have missed you so.” Giselle pouted but Ty didn’t find her expression as attractive as he was obviously supposed to.
“We talked about this months ago,” he reminded her. “It’s over. We agreed.”
“I did not agree. You insisted. You were so cruel!”
“You agreed.” Ty held her gaze. “I remember perfectly.”
She inhaled a little, eyes flashing. “It’s a woman’s right to change her mind.” She leaned closer to whisper. “Let me change yours, Ty-lair.”
“You can’t. Excuse me.” He stepped back before she could press her case and changed the subject. “What restaurant are you going to?”
She named it, her tone sullen.
“It’s great,” he said, making his tone official. “You’ll love it. I hope you have a wonderful evening and a good trip back to Paris.”
Ty smiled thinly and retreated to the office, not looking back when Giselle exhaled a hiss of frustration. He heard her tap her toe but ignored her. He shut the door behind himself and surveyed the files strewn on the desk, unable to escape the sense that Shannyn had gotten away.
And that he didn’t like it one bit.
Ty-lair.
There was nothing like a little compare-and-contrast to take the bounce out of Shannyn’s step. Or a walking talking reminder of the fact that Tyler had a revolving door on his bedroom. One thing hadn’t changed in twelve years.
Which just meant she was right to insist they never were together again.
Of course, she wanted more. It had been good. It had been great. Sex with Tyler had been better than all her college fantasies.
And then some.
But she was not going to be seduced.
Shannyn sat on the subway, her messenger bag cradled in her lap. She could feel the weight of her camera and held it safely captive. She knew she should think about work, maybe review her shots and upcoming schedule, but it was impossible not to think about the glamorous Giselle. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Giselle had a whole lot in common with the women Tyler had dated in college, and was also the exact opposite of Shannyn. The other woman’s arrival, and her familiarity, was a timely reminder that Shannyn’s fake date with Tyler was a step outside his usual preferences.
It also was an emphatic reminder that theirs had been a one-off.
Shannyn had just surprised him. Tyler was a healthy male, so wasn’t going to turn down sex, but he wouldn’t have chosen Shannyn of his own volition.
Very cute.
Shannyn bit her lip, remembering exactly the way he’d murmured that. Had it been a line? He’d made it sound good. He had remembered her. She’d melted a little—well, more than a little—at his admiration.
Maybe he’d decided right away to change her mind about him, to make her reconsider that old insult. A personal challenge.
As long as he never guessed why she’d really said it. She’d been more insulted and hurt than convinced of his bad character.
Shannyn knew she should be glad that Giselle had turned up. That woman’s arrival had made it easier to leave.
But Giselle’s elegance did make her think. Giselle and Tyler looked like a couple in a way that Shannyn and Tyler never would. Tyler was probably right that his family wouldn’t believe his wedding date with Shannyn was plausible.
Maybe she should go for dinner with him and study.
Maybe he had a point.
Maybe her sucker heart was softening right on cue. He’d been a thoughtful and thorough lover, one who made his partner’s satisfaction a priority.
Any woman could be seduced by that, even if it was an act.
She probably was supposed to be.
Shannyn refused to play by Tyler’s rules or meet his expectations. He said he had no time for a relationship. She didn’t want one. They wouldn’t have one. It was perfectly blissfully simple.
If only she hadn’t liked it so much that Tyler had recognized the Austen reference. They hadn’t studied Austen in that English Lit class—it had been about the 19th century romantic poets, but the words were apt anyway. No doubt his female relatives agreed with Lizzie’s mother. A showy break-up at the wedding would be like throwing him to the wolves.
She couldn’t help thinking that might be kind of fun. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing Tyler exasperated, never mind being responsible for it. He was so in command of his life and himself, managing all the details to achieve exactly what he wanted. It was tempting to prove to him that life was full of surprises for most people, and that the best laid plans could go astray. It was Shannyn’s experience that the worst possible scenario would manifest at the worst possible moment, regardless of plans to the contrary—Giselle’s arrival was a good example.
No doubt the two of them were cooing at each other over some fancy meal in a chic restaurant.
And after that?
Shannyn really didn’t want to think about it.
She had no reason to think about it.
But she did.
The subway car wasn’t crowded, although it was full. The majority of seats were taken but no one was standing, and there was a pervasive smell of wet clothing. The train rocked on the long runs between stations, picking up speed, and Shannyn found herself remembering those English Lit classes. In a way, she admired Kyle and Tyler’s strategy. It had been college. Rampant hormones combined with a newfound sense of freedom for many students meant lots of sport sex. For two guys to register for a class where they were bound to be outnumbered by women was clever.
She wondered whose idea it had been. Tyler, the strategist, or Kyle, the man-whore. Or had they met in that class? Shannyn didn’t know.
The other girls had talked about them, of course. There had been a lot of compare-and-contrast. Kyle was quick and funny, a talker, good for a laugh. Tyler was slower and more intense. Some preferred one and some the other, but there were no second dates. Sometimes there weren’t even dates at all, just sex. To their credit, there had been no suggestion that it might be otherwise. She had a vague recollection that Kyle had been vastly busier than Tyler—but then, Tyler would have been studying to ace his courses. Work, work, work. She’d always had the sense that Kyle floated through life on his charm.
Of course, Tyler didn’t k
now that he’d been Shannyn’s crush. She’d tried to sit near him, put herself in his path, to be noticed in some way, and she’d been sure he was oblivious to her presence. It made sense in a way. The girls he’d picked had been similar in more than looks. They laughed at the right moments and said the right things. They had the polish of those who grew up with money. There were no doubts, certainly no lack of confidence.
Her mom always said that moneyed people stuck to their own.
Which didn’t include Shannyn. She’d known from the first moment she stepped on campus that she was an outsider. She’d worked three jobs the previous summer and saved every penny. It had been her dad’s dream that she go to college, because she was the smart one, but that didn’t mean his widow had the funds to pay for it. They’d all worked hard to make it happen.
Shannyn supposed her dad would have been glad that she’d married well, at least for a while. She’d married straight out of college, abandoning her masters and her goal of teaching and even a church wedding, because Cole had wanted it that way. She’d been an idiot to give up so much for love and romance. Live and learn.
She’d never give up anything for a man again. Her heart was off the market forever.
She’d been surprised that Tyler had been so perceptive about her goals in college. It was strange to realize that he’d been protective of her, a virtual stranger, when she’d thought he couldn’t have cared less.
But he still was used to having everything go his way, something that Shannyn found absurd. She was more accustomed to things not going her way. She was the queen of contingency plans. She could have been envious of his confidence. Instead, she found herself wanting to prove to him that it wasn’t always so. That was a dangerous impulse, one that would dovetail neatly with his own objective that they get to know each other better, and she wasn’t going there.
After all, he’d probably already forgotten all about her. That would be better than any compare-and-contrast between her getting naked with her plain white cotton sports bra and briefs, and Giselle stripping down to exotic Italian lace lingerie.
What was done was done. Shannyn had a new policy of no regrets.
She was going home to feed the cat and work. She’d go to the club Saturday and finish the job for the alumni magazine. And when she knew the time and date of Tyler’s sister’s wedding, she’d enlist her mom’s help with her dress, show up, keep her part of the deal, and never see Tyler McKay again.
The plan was perfect.
Which only meant it should have been more satisfactory than it was.
Ty couldn’t shake his conviction that nothing with Shannyn was going as planned—and that she had somehow engineered that. He couldn’t recall any date ending so badly, much less one in which his efforts to repair the situation had fallen on deaf ears.
She was the most stubborn woman alive.
It drove Ty crazy when he couldn’t figure something out, and he really couldn’t understand Shannyn. Why would she suggest such a deal when she had such a low opinion of him? How could sex be so great when she didn’t even like him? What had happened to her in the past twelve years?
Who was the asshole who’d broken her heart?
There was no artifice in Shannyn and maybe that was what intrigued Ty the most. She had secrets, but when she confessed something, Ty knew it was true. She didn’t try to manipulate him. She told him what she wanted and that was that.
What he saw was what he got. Ty found that refreshing.
And unusual.
Fascinating.
He was crunching monthly expenses, trying to focus on work, when Kyle appeared. Kyle leaned in the doorway and surveyed Ty with a sad shake of his head. He’d changed into dark jeans and a black T-shirt with the F5F logo, obviously on his way home for the night.
“Always working,” he said with a sigh, as if that was pathetic.
“Problem?” Ty asked. The last thing he was going to admit to Kyle was that he was having trouble concentrating. He spared his partner a glance.
“I came to thank you for dealing with Shannyn, but it looks like you have a problem. Who is she?”
“Who is who?”
“The one who got away.”
Ty put down his pencil and looked up. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve changed suits. New tie. Clean shirt.” Kyle leaned closer. “Second shave!” His brows rose. “Come on, tell. Who is the amour du jour?”
His use of French wasn’t welcome.
“There isn’t one.” Ty closed a file and opened the next one.
“I heard about Giselle dropping by.”
“She left.”
“I heard that, too.” Kyle leaned on the table. “I even heard you sent her away.”
“Why do we have staff on the front desk?” Ty muttered. “Is this place just one big gossip mill?”
“Of course!” Kyle shook a finger at him. “But that means you intended to be with someone else. Who?”
“Leave it.” Ty used his stern voice, which anyone other than Kyle would have realized was a command to end the conversation.
Kyle sat on the table instead. “You mean she cancelled? She looked upon all that is good in male sartorial flair and declined to partake of the feast?”
“Shut up, Kyle.”
“And you were left with no plans for dinner, despite having expectations. After dismissing the delicious Giselle, too. Who is this paragon of restraint? I want a name. Maybe a number.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But I think it does.”
Ty was well aware that Kyle was watching him. He tried to be a little less savage with the files.
“I know you,” Kyle said. “You’re only in a mood when things don’t follow your expectations. Your brilliant plan lies in tatters about your feet because the lady of choice has declined to play along.” He waited for confirmation but Ty didn’t say anything. “You could ask Sonia to the wedding, you know.”
“She’s an employee!” Ty didn’t hide his exasperation.
“Oh, yes, pesky principles.” Kyle stood up then leaned in the doorway again, instead of disappearing through it in the way Ty would have preferred. “Actually, though, you and Sonia wouldn’t be good together. You’re too much the same. All that discipline and temperance. It’s unnatural.” He made a face. “No one would ever have any fun, but maybe you’d like it that way.”
“Don’t you need to be somewhere else? Seattle maybe? Melbourne?”
Kyle continued as if he hadn’t heard Ty. “You need yin for your yang. You need someone who shakes things up, someone who rattles your tidy expectations, someone who makes you work for it. Someone who is your polar opposite. A wild spirit who can astonish you at regular intervals.”
It did absolutely nothing for Ty’s mood to realize that Kyle was describing Shannyn.
“I don’t need anyone,” he insisted. “I don’t have time anyway.”
Kyle nodded wisely as if Ty hadn’t spoken. “Someone with a tattoo. Maybe two.”
“There’s something ironic about you giving matchmaking advice.”
“There is!” Kyle laughed, untroubled. “I think I’m good at it, though.”
“You think you’re good at everything. Remember I’m not listening to your advice ever again.”
“Too bad. You only get lucky when you do.”
“Not true.” Ty looked up from his laptop. “You must have something more interesting to do than harass me.”
“You’re right, I do. I was just thanking you for taking over with Shannyn. I almost didn’t recognize her.”
“This from Mr. Perception.”
“Wasn’t she going to be a teacher?”
Ty had to think about that. “You’re right,” he acknowledged, his curiosity stirring again. “I wonder how she ended up doing freelance photography.”
Kyle shrugged without interest. “Who knows.”
Ty bet the answer had something to do with the jerk who’d broken her heart.
He wondered whether he’d ever know.
“She’ll be back Saturday,” he told Kyle. “She wants candid shots of each of us, then a group shot.”
“When’s Theo back?”
“He’s flying back today and will be in by noon tomorrow.” Ty had gotten an email from Theo earlier in the day. He’d been off for a few weeks, having gone home to the UK because his dad was ill. He was probably in the city now, but jetlagged.
Kyle frowned a little. “Maybe we should play a game of pick-up. Partners and staff vs. a few regulars.”
“That’s a really good idea.”
“Of course, it is. I am the high king of all good ideas, the source from which brilliance flows.”
Ty snorted.
Kyle looked him up and down again. “Are you going to sulk?”
“No, I’m going to swim laps.”
“Because a gentleman never sulks. Are you going to brood?”
Ty shook his head with impatience. “Of course not. I’m going to finish this month’s summaries, then swim laps while I think.”
“You are brooding then. Suit yourself.”
“You’re always talking nonsense,” Ty said, quoting Oscar Wilde in his best British accent.
Kyle laughed and replied in kind. “It’s better than listening to it.” Whistling under his breath, he headed out.
Ty kept tallying.
Yang for his yin. Hmm.
That might be interesting advice if he’d been ready for a serious relationship—but he wasn’t. He only had time for one fake date. The problem was that Ty wasn’t nearly sure enough that this one was going to happen. Shannyn might decline to keep her end of the deal completely. Katelyn’s wedding was almost four weeks away. Ty had to ensure that Shannyn didn’t vanish in that space of time.
He wanted to make another deal.
The incredible thing was that Shannyn didn’t want more sex. That stung Ty’s pride a bit, but he already knew he couldn’t expect her to say or do what he wanted.
What did she want?
Maybe he should ask.
It was still pouring when Shannyn left the subway station and she pulled up her hood again, hugging her bag close. She walked home briskly, splashing through the puddles. As usual, the sight of her house lifted her heart, even given the compromises she’d made to keep it.
Just One Fake Date: A Contemporary Romance (Flatiron Five Fitness Book 1) Page 7