Most likely a mistake on my part, but screw it. The man drives me nuts.
“What are these?” His gaze flares with interest as I hand him the panties. He holds them up, then flips them around, smiling faintly when he notices the backside. “Very cheeky.”
Oh. Did he just make a joke? I didn’t know he had it in him. “Extremely.”
“The cherries are a nice touch,” he adds.
I nod, blatantly studying him since he’s not paying attention to me. “I like them.”
“The underwear or the cherries?” He’s still not looking in my direction, giving me ample time to drink in his handsome features. He is almost annoyingly good looking.
“Both.”
Jared lifts his gaze to mine, his dark eyes practically smoldering. I remain fixed in my chair, my breath catching in my throat the longer we stare at each other. What is happening right now? What are we doing?
He drops the panties onto the table and spreads them out, his gaze remaining on the underwear as he asks, “What size do you wear, Miss Harrison?”
Um.
Say what?
“What size are these panties?” Right. Must’ve misheard him.
“They’re an extra small,” I tell him, trying my best to keep my voice even. I feel jumpy. Anxious. His nearness sets me on edge. I can smell him. I swear his body heat is radiating toward me, making me warm. Like, I can feel sweat forming along my hairline. Is it suddenly hot in here?
“And what size do you wear?” His gaze meets mine across the table, unwavering. “Miss Harrison.”
Oh shit. It’s definitely hot in here.
I swallow hard. No way should I answer. He’s crossed a line. A line I shouldn’t cross with him because he’s a client, and a rude one at that.
Yet it’s like I can’t help myself.
“I’m a small,” I confess, wondering why he’s asking.
He clears his throat, his gaze dropping to my breasts for the briefest moment before he asks, “What size bra do you wear?”
Well. This conversation just got weird.
“Um…” Oh, this is awkward. Isn’t it? I should hate him. I hate everything he represents. He’s the last man on earth I would ever be interested in.
So why are my breaths coming faster? And why do I suddenly feel lightheaded?
“The woman I’m buying this for—she’s similar in size to you,” he further explains, leaning back in his chair. He studies me with disinterest, like he’s discussing the weather, and I try to compose myself. We’re talking business. And our business happens to focus on lingerie. No big deal.
Right?
“I’m a thirty-four C,” I tell him, sitting up straight and squaring my shoulders. I can’t let this man unnerve me like this. No other client does this to me.
Of course, no other client of mine is remotely like Mr. Gaines.
“Really.” His gaze is on my chest again, and I’m tempted to unbutton the black silk shirt I’m wearing and let him see for himself. “Do these panties have a matching bra?” He dangles the cherry panties from his index finger, the scrap of fabric swinging to and fro.
Hearing him say panties in that melting, deep voice of his is making other things melt. Like me. Between my thighs. I clench them together, ignoring the sudden ache I feel there. It’s been too long since I’ve had a boyfriend. That’s my problem, I swear. “Yes, they come in a matched set.”
“I’ll take it.” He rises to his feet, and I stand along with him, noting how tall he is, even with my heels on. Though, I’m a shrimp, so everyone is taller than me. “I’ll meet you at the register.”
He exits the room without another word and I watch him go, taking a deep, shuddery breath when he’s gone. I remind myself it’s no big deal. Jared Gaines asked for my bra and panty size. He claims his new side piece—oh my God, I sound just like my brother—is about the same size as me. No problem. Nothing strange about our conversation. I’m here to help him. That’s it.
That. Is. It.
Two
Jared
I wait for Sarah at the register, keeping my eyes on my phone so I won’t have to make small talk with the other associates who work at Bliss. They’re all perfectly nice women, if a bit…obvious.
Understatement. They’re totally obvious. The last one who assisted me kept her composure for two visits. Until the third time we met, when she scrawled her name and number across the back of my receipt along with a message: Call me ANYTIME.
She also drew a generous set of breasts beneath her name.
Pass.
I’ve been a regular customer at Bliss for over two years. There have been plenty of sales associates I’ve worked with. Every single one of them beautiful. Every single one of them flirted with me, some more than others. The number and the boob drawing were the most recent and overt one.
But there was that other one. The one who shall never be named. The one who I got fired for her inappropriate behavior. The one who actually showed me her tits in one of the private rooms. The one who also tried to dry hump my leg while shoving her bare breasts in my face.
Talk about a total disaster. Marlo, the owner of Bliss, was embarrassed. So was the one who shall never be named, and Marlo fired her on the spot despite the crying and the carrying on. I remained as impassive as possible as it all unfolded, though deep down I’d been thrown. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a beautiful woman, and I love a beautiful set of tits, too. But a crazy woman who strips while on the job and tries to dry hump me?
That’s a whole different story.
I changed after that happened. Do not engage became my mantra. It was best. If you smiled, if you were friendly, if you said something even remotely interesting, the women thought I was flirting with them. So I became cold. Quiet.
And then I met Sarah.
Beautiful, sweet, smart-mouthed Sarah. With the long, dark hair and the flashing blue eyes and the bee-stung lips. More than once I’ve imagined those lips wrapped tight around my…well, you know what I’m talking about. And I’ve never had a dirty thought about any of the girls who work at Bliss.
Not until Sarah.
From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I wanted her, which is ridiculous. I’ve bought more lingerie these last few months than I have in the past two years I’ve shopped at Bliss. I’m not currently fucking anyone, yet I’m purchasing a bra and panty set that will set me back approximately five hundred dollars.
Worse? The only woman I imagine wearing the sweetly sexy cherry bra and panty set is Sarah.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Will this be on your black card today, Mr. Gaines?”
I glance up from my phone to find another associate standing behind the counter with an expectant smile on her face. Her name is Bethany, and she’s worked at Bliss for over a year, I believe. She’s always pleasant toward me when I see her.
But she doesn’t interest me like Sarah does.
“Sarah will be handling this,” I say, my voice gruff, my attention once more on my phone. My inbox has exploded in the past fifteen minutes—shit always goes down when I ignore my phone—and my text message notifications sound like they’re going haywire.
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Gaines. But she’s currently busy assisting someone else.” When I lift my head once again, Bethany offers me a slow, seductive smile. I scowl at her in return. “But I’d be more than happy to help ring up your purchase.”
“Where are the items I want to buy?” And where the hell is Sarah? Who is she helping now? How dare she assist someone else?
The smile disappears from Bethany’s face. “I thought you brought them with you.”
I shake my head, irritated. “No. Sarah always boxes them up for me and brings them to the register.”
“I’ll go find her and get the items for you—” Bethany starts, but I interrupt her with another shake of my head.
“I’ll go find her,” I say tightly, pushing away from the counter. I stride through the tiny linger
ie store, thankful it’s empty, searching for a glimpse of Sarah’s dark head and those big blue eyes. But she’s nowhere to be found. I have no idea what other clients she could be helping when I’m the only one she should be dealing with, considering I have an appointment. I slam open the door of the private room we just occupied only to find it…
Empty.
Where did she go?
“Mr. Gaines.” I turn to find Marlo standing in front of me, elegant as ever in severe black, her expression serene. She’s holding a thin box in front of her. “Sarah boxed up your items for you.”
I’m frowning so hard it hurts my damn face. “Where is she?”
“She had an—emergency.” Marlo’s bright pink lips turn up in the faintest smile. “She sends her regrets that she wasn’t able to finish your transaction.”
Such a businesslike way of putting it. I’d like to finish a transaction with Sarah—preferably with both of us naked, the pretty lingerie I’m about to buy torn to shreds and lying on my bedroom floor.
But then I remember her word choice. An emergency.
That doesn’t sound good.
“Is she all right?” Worry hits me like a punch to the gut, surprising me.
Marlo’s eyes widen the slightest bit. I think I’ve shocked her with my question. I’m not one to show concern for anyone. “She’s fine,” she reassures me. “It’s a personal matter, but everyone’s okay.”
A personal matter. And everyone’s fine—who, exactly, is everyone? A boyfriend? A—holy shit—husband? No. She’s too young to be married, though I don’t know her exact age, but she looks young. Innocent, with those big, blinking blue eyes. Feisty and sweet, with a mouth I want to ravish and a body I want to explore...
No. That would be a mistake. I can’t be interested in her. And I’m guessing there’s no husband, not that it’s any of my business. She doesn’t wear a ring. I know nothing about Sarah’s personal life, and despite my wanting to know what’s going on, Marlo won’t reveal a damn thing to me. She’s discreet. That’s why I come here.
I take the box from her. “Thank you.”
“Bethany can ring you up.” Marlo leads me toward the register, where Bethany waits for me with that same seductive smile. She needs to give it up. I’m not interested. “I hope you have a nice day, Mr. Gaines.”
“Thank you, Marlo, I hope the same for you.”
Bethany takes care of my purchase, trying to make idle chitchat, but I don’t respond. I’m staring at my phone trying to concentrate on my texts, yet I can’t help but think of Sarah. My mind is filled with endless possibilities. What could’ve driven her out of here so quickly? What’s wrong? Where is she? Does she need help?
“Do you want your items gift wrapped?” Bethany asks, her phony sweet voice knocking me from my thoughts.
“Please,” I tell her, still staring at my phone.
“Would you like to include a personal note?” Bethany is clearly fishing for information.
“No.” An idea hits me and I glance up, watching as Bethany tears off a sheet of shimmery pale pink wrapping paper and starts to wrap the box. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
She folds the paper around the box, then grabs a roll of tape. “What exactly do you need, Mr. Gaines?” Her every word drips with sexual innuendo. Subtleness isn’t Bethany’s strong suit.
“I’m—worried about Sarah.” Bethany meets my gaze, her mouth dropping open. I’m guessing I shocked her. I’m shocking myself as well. “I want to send her something to cheer her up.”
Bethany’s brows rise so high they’re practically in her hairline. “Really?”
I nod.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Bethany says.
“I would still like to send her a little something.”
“Such as?”
I want to tell her that’s none of her damn business, but I don’t. Instead, I ignore her question. “Could you give me her address please?”
Bethany looks around, like she’s making sure Marlo isn’t nearby. “I’m afraid giving out the address of a fellow employee isn’t allowed.”
“But I’ve been a loyal customer for so long. You can trust me.” I put on my most charming smile, and I see the interest flare in Bethany’s eyes. “I’ve worked very closely with Sarah these last few months, and I want to send her a—token of my appreciation.” My words ring false. But it’s like Bethany doesn’t even notice. “To let her know I’m thinking of her during this troubled time.”
Jesus, where do I come up with this stuff?
Bethany frowns, focusing on wrapping the present, her movements efficient as she folds and tapes the paper into submission, then wraps a strip of gauzy white ribbon around the box. “I really shouldn’t.”
I remain quiet, hoping my silence breaks her.
While I sign the sales receipt, Bethany shakes open a shiny black Bliss shopping bag and stuffs the wrapped box inside, then hands it over to me. “You promise you won’t tell Sarah how you got her address?”
Triumph seizes hold of me, and I try my best to remain neutral as I take the bag from her. “I promise,” I say solemnly.
With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Bethany taps a few keys on the nearby computer and then grabs a pink Post-it pad and a pen, scrawling a few words on the paper before tearing it off and handing it to me. “You never got this from me.”
I take the Post-it note from her and slip it into my jacket pocket. “Got what?” I ask innocently.
“Perfect answer.” She smiles with seeming relief. “Thank you. Have a wonderful day, Mr. Gaines.”
“You too, Bethany. Thank you.” I exit the store and head to where I parked my car, ignoring the many people who fill the sidewalk. It’s a gorgeous, sunny day, the area is crowded with tourists and locals, but I have zero time to appreciate the weather.
I’m a man on a mission, with a gift to deliver.
Three
Sarah
It wasn’t a lie. I did have an emergency. The second Mr. Gaines left the private room, Marlo entered, holding my phone out toward me.
“Your phone’s been blowing up for the past five minutes.” It was funny, hearing Marlo use the term “blowing up”. She’s such an elegant, proper woman who doesn’t use much slang. At least, she doesn’t around me,
I take my phone from her and check it. Three hangups and five texts from my little sister Andie.
Sarah
Sarah call me please. I’m freaking out.
SARAH! I NEED YOU!
OMG pick up ur phone I need you rn!!
SARAHHHHHHHHH
Ugh. She’s so annoying.
“Do you want Bethany to take care of Mr. Gaines?” Marlo asks as I skim through the text messages from my overly dramatic sister.
“If you don’t mind?” I send her an apologetic look. She knows how it is with my family. They’re a little—fine, a lot—needy. “I should call Andie back.”
Marlo smiles. “Not a problem. And if you have to leave early, I completely understand. Family emergencies happen.”
“Thank you for being so understanding,” I tell Marlo before I head outside. I really hope I don’t have to leave early thanks to Andie. I need the hours. Meaning, I need the money.
I step outside and call my sister.
“Sarah! Please come pick me up from school. I can’t take it here anymore.” This is how Andie greets me. She doesn’t even bother saying hello.
Have I mentioned my sister is a sixteen-year-old drama queen?
Have I also mentioned that it’s just me, my sister, and my brother who live together? Our parents died four years ago in a terrible car accident. We only have each other, and since I’m the oldest and the most responsible, I take care of both of them.
Well, Brent can pretty much fend for himself. He’s twenty-one, has a full-time job, and loves to hang with his bros when he’s not working. Andie, on the other hand? She’s a sophomore in high school. Almost finished with the school year, since it’s late May, so
she’s basically a junior. According to her.
“I’m working, Andie,” I tell her, glancing around to make sure no one’s around before I launch into my big sister lecture. I feel like I keep doing this lately. “I know you have no clue what that’s like, having to actually work for a living, but I just can’t leave to come get you because you have a serious case of cramps.”
Andie actually whimpers, which means I called it. “But I’m out of tampons.”
Ugh. I do not want to have this conversation right now. “Call Brent. He’s still at home. I bet he’ll bring you some.” My brother would be so pissed if he knew I said that.
“Please. He’d tell me to take two Midol and call him in the morning.”
That sounds exactly like him.
“Doesn’t one of your friends have a tampon stash somewhere?” I can’t believe she called me away from the sexy, wretched Mr. Gaines to complain about cramps and a tampon shortage. “I have to get back to work.”
“So you’re not gonna come get me?” she whines.
“No, I’m not. Bye.” I end the call, heading for the door that leads back into the building when I catch a glimpse of a familiar someone out of the corner of my eye.
I go completely still, turning just my head to see who it is.
Jared Gaines, walking down the sidewalk.
Without thought I follow after him, keeping my distance so he won’t notice me. A black Bliss shopping bag dangles from his fingers, and his stride is hurried, like he has somewhere to be and he’s running late.
Typical.
I pick up the pace, my gaze dropping to his backside. He’s wearing a jacket so I can’t really see his ass, but I’m sure it’s nice. Firm.
Actually, I’m sure it’s perfect because I’d bet a million dollars that he thinks his body is a temple and treats it that way too. I bet he works out in his private gym every single day and carefully watches what he eats. He looks like one of those, you know what I mean?
Fake Date Page 2