Over.
Thirteen
Jared
“Mr. Gaines, you have an unscheduled visitor who would like to speak with you.”
Irritation fills me at the hushed, slightly panicked sound of Denise’s voice. My assistant is tough. That’s the reason why I hired her in the first place. She never lets anyone get past her desk if she doesn’t know them or if they don’t have an appointment. She’s strict to the point that I expect her to crack someone’s knuckles with a metal ruler—hell, sometimes I’m afraid she’ll do something like that to me. So who the hell is trying to see me unannounced at—I check the time—just past eight thirty in the morning?
“Who is it?” My voice is brusque as I tap out a quick text to Candice. We’re supposed to meet for lunch at one, but I’m cancelling on her since I have a conference call scheduled at the same time and I need to prepare for it. My sister will be disappointed, but she’ll survive. I’m sure there’s some sort of charity luncheon scheduled today that she can attend instead.
“The young woman insists she knows you.” Denise lowers her voice until it’s the barest whisper. “Says she works at…Bliss Lingerie?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I know without Denise having to say another word that it’s Sarah Harrison. She must’ve received her latest gift.
“Send her in,” I say gruffly.
There’s the briefest moment of silence before Denise rushes on. “Are you—Mr. Gaines, are you sure?”
The shock in her voice is undeniable. I’m not one to see unexpected visitors. Drop-ins rarely get past the security desk—or Denise’s desk—with the exception of Candice.
“Positive. Send her in.” I end the call and rise to my feet, straightening my jacket, smoothing my fingers along my gray silk tie. I had a secret feeling I’d hear from Sarah today, but I assumed she’d call or possibly even text with her thanks, not that I have her personal number. Unfortunately.
It is, after all, the polite thing for her to say thank you, what with me sending her such extravagant gifts. Not that they’re the most tasteful of gifts, considering I hardly know her. Yet I’m sending her underwear. Shoes. Flowers.
More underwear.
But I couldn’t resist. The more I think about her, the more I wanted to keep sending her things, especially when she doesn’t respond. She’s so intriguing. Such a mystery. And a feisty little thing. What does it take to make a woman like her finally give in and acknowledge my generosity?
Finally I must’ve hit her breaking point.
I can’t stop thinking about our near kiss at Bliss yesterday. When she was showing me the Celestial Collection, something flickered in her eyes. A hint of—wanting. Desire. A feeling that I’ve experienced for her as well. That I’ve been feeling every single time I so much as catch a glimpse of her. Or even think of her.
I almost kissed her yesterday, before Marlo interrupted us. I would’ve done it too. Kissed her right there in the middle of the store. I was that taken with her.
Still am, if I’m being truthful.
The door opens and Sarah enters my office, clad in a black pantsuit that fits her to perfection. She’s wearing a crisp white button-down shirt beneath the single-buttoned jacket, her thick, dark hair pulled into a low ponytail. On her way to work, I assume, my gaze landing on her lips—they’re shiny with pink gloss. Tempting me as usual. Of course, those sexy shoes are on her feet—the shoes I bought her. My cock jerks beneath my fly, letting me know he’s extremely pleased to see her.
“Mr. Gaines.” She comes to a stop, like she doesn’t want to get any closer to me, and that’s when I realize she’s clutching a black box in her hand. Wait, she’s clutching two boxes.
Shit. Is she here to return my gifts?
“Miss Harrison.” My voice is gravelly, and upon clearing my throat, I stand up straighter and walk around my desk so I’m in front of it and cross my arms. “Definitely not used to seeing you in my office.”
She glances around the room, her eyes widening as she takes it all in. It’s impressive, I know it is, just by its sheer size, and considering I spent a fortune on one of the best interior designers in the area, it better be.
Though Candice believes it plain. And maybe she’s right. There’s not much warmth in the room. Not any personal photos or favorite pieces of art. Everything’s harsh lines and abstract paintings. Clean white and sharp silver and the blackest of black.
Sort of like a mental institution?
Sarah’s gaze finally returns to mine, her expression vaguely—disgusted? “I received my package yesterday.”
Guess she’s not going to beat around the bush. “You did?”
“Yes, of course I did. I can’t accept it. I can’t accept any of the lingerie.” She approaches my desk, her gaze jerking away from mine as she stops right next to where I’m standing and drops the boxes on my desk with a loud thump.
Before I can say a word, she’s moved away from me, hands resting on her hips, her gaze roaming around the room once more. Like she can barely stand to look at me. “I thought I would return the items to you personally so you can make sure and send it to another one of your—mistresses. I don’t think I’m up for the job, Mr. Gaines. No matter how tempting it may be.”
The last sentence is spoken sarcastically, I know it is, but I can’t help but wonder if I do tempt her. At least a little bit?
“You think I’m going to send the gifts intended for you to someone else? Really?”
“Isn’t that what you normally do?” she asks, her eyes wide, lips parted, looking like a sweet little innocent girl.
She’s goading me on purpose. To annoy me. And it’s working.
Irritation sparks my blood and I press my lips together for a moment, so I don’t say something rude. “I’m not going to send those items to anyone else.”
Her head jerks, her gaze meeting mine. She appears confused.
“I want you to keep those gifts. All of them,” I admit gruffly.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You’re already wearing the shoes,” I point out. “What’s a couple pieces of lingerie going to hurt?”
We stare at each other quietly and I lean against my desk, my arms still crossed in front of my chest as I wait for her answer. Sarah would never make a good poker player. About a thousand different emotions flit across her pretty face until one finally settles in.
And I’m thinking it appears to be good old-fashioned rage.
“What you’re saying is that you want me to keep the assless panties so I can wear them for someone else then?” Her voice is extra sharp.
Most women would be thrilled to receive presents from me. They’d ask when we could next meet so they could model everything I gave them. For my eyes only.
Of course, this one isn’t thrilled. She doesn’t want to model the bras and panties I sent her. More like she looks ready to grab both boxes and hurl them at my head.
Blinking, I realize she asked me a question. “What did you say?”
“You heard me!” She points at my chest. “You’re telling me you’ll be fine with me wearing all of this sexy stuff for someone else?”
“Absolutely not,” I huff, sounding like an old man. Shit, I sound like my father. That sucks.
“Then just take it.” She shoves the boxes across the desk, closer to where I stand. “Take it all back to Bliss. I’ll personally complete the return for you.”
“I don’t want to return any of it.”
Her hands clutch into little fists, and for a quick moment, I’m worried she might pummel me to death. “You’re still trying to—proposition me with all of this stuff?”
“Take the message behind the gifts as you will, Miss Harrison,” I say defiantly. I’m being a rude asshole. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because she acts like she doesn’t care about who I am or what I do.
“Oh my God.” Her fingers curl and uncurl, and she takes a step toward me, her blue eyes blazing with uncontained anger.
“At first I thought you sent me the lingerie by mistake. Then when you sent the shoes, and then the flowers? I figured you were purposely trying to proposition me.”
She’s not wrong.
“And yes, I shouldn’t have kept the shoes. But I keep wearing them because I love them so much,” she admits, dipping her head so I can’t look in her eyes.
“I’m glad you like them,” I say softly, causing her to look up at me, confusion written all over her face.
Sarah’s not used to hearing me be so—nice to her.
“I thought.” She hesitates and looks away again, staring at that horrible abstract painting I’ve now come to call A Study in Beige, thanks to Candice. “I thought maybe I’d take you up on your proposition. My friends suggested I should.”
I love her friends.
“They told me I should have a—fling with you. A brief affair, because that’s all you ever want, right?” Her head is still averted, and I stare at her profile with longing.
She is beautiful. And smart. And so terribly, terribly young. If she were to have an affair with me, I would probably chew her up and spit her out, and most likely break her heart.
“But then.” She turns to face me once more, her eyes blazing, her mouth drawn into a narrow line. “Then I realized you’re sending me indecent lingerie and sexy shoes because you think that’s all it will take for me to fall into bed with you.”
“We don’t always have to use a bed,” I suggest, my voice quiet, my gaze locked on hers. We could do it against a wall. On the floor. In my shower. On my couch.
On this very desk I’m leaning against.
Her mouth falls open in shock and her cheeks get pink. She’s gorgeous when she’s angry. Maybe that’s why I antagonize her so much. I like to ruffle her feathers. Most of the time, she’s so calm, so quiet, yet when I get around her, snap at her or make a demand, her eyes blaze with anger, and just like that, my body reacts.
No other woman tests my control like this one.
“Well, Miss Harrison?” I taunt when she hasn’t said anything. “Do you have anything else to say? Do you still want to return your gifts to me?”
“You’re insane,” she bites out.
“Nothing I haven’t been told before.”
She rolls her eyes, sassy as hell. “I don’t want the lingerie.”
“That’s unfortunate.” I’d love to see her wear it, though I’d love to strip her out of it more. This idea conjures up all sorts of images, every one of them involving Sarah naked. In my bed. Beneath me. On top of me. Our mouths fused. My hands…everywhere.
She remains quiet, staring at me, and I wonder why she just doesn’t storm out of here screaming she never wants to see me again.
But she doesn’t do that. Which makes me curious.
“My special little gifts seem to work on everyone else,” I say just to bait her.
“Then they were idiots.” She takes a few steps toward me, and I can smell her sweet, intoxicating scent. The tension rises, swirling between us, and I wonder if she can feel it.
She has to feel it.
“Why the sudden change? Yesterday at Bliss, you were almost—sweet.” She glares and I continue. “Now my gifts really offend you?” I ask, my voice gruff. Having her so close makes me feel…itchy. I flex my fingers, tempted to touch her.
But I don’t.
“The more you talk, the more they totally offend me. And I’m sure I’m not the first woman you’ve upset with your poor gift choices. I mean, seriously, how much lingerie does a man need to buy?”
“A man who has plenty of women he sees and who likes to give them presents.”
“You’re a pig.”
Her insult means nothing. I’ve been called worse. But there’s something inherently sexy about Sarah Harrison when she’s so thoroughly pissed off. “You really believe so?”
She nods, her ponytail swishing. I want to grab hold of it. Give her silky, thick hair a firm tug. Bring her close and shut her up with my mouth. Even when she’s angry—hell, especially when she’s angry—I find her completely irresistible.
“You will never be able to keep a woman interested in you if you constantly insult her by treating her like a…” Her voice drifts and she throws her hands up into the air, like she’s at a loss for words.
“Like a what?” I ask when she doesn’t finish her sentence.
“Like a common whore.” She lifts her chin, defiant.
“You think I’m treating you like a common whore?” I’m truly horrified at the thought.
“Um, yes. I do.” The sarcasm in her voice is evident.
“All you had to say if you didn’t like it is, ‘I appreciate the gifts, but no thank you,’” I tell her.
She snorts. “I appreciate the gifts, Mr. Gaines, but no thank you.” With that, she kicks off the Louboutins I gave her, sending them skittering across the floor before she turns and starts toward the door.
Panic races through me. She could walk out that door and I’d never see her again. I could go to Bliss and Marlo might turn me away. Or worse, tell me that Sarah can no longer assist me and offer up someone else.
I need to do something. Say something.
Fast.
“Would you like to accompany me next weekend?” I call after her. It’s the first thing that comes to mind.
Sarah freezes, her back still to me. “What did you say?”
Shit. I can’t believe I just asked her that. Let her go. Let her leave. Stop shopping at Bliss and end this right now.
I’m contradicting myself in my own thoughts. Clearly, I’m screwed.
“I asked, would you like to accompany me out of town next weekend?”
“Where?” She glances over her shoulder, our gazes meeting. Holding.
She’s intrigued.
I can tell.
“It’s a family gathering, of sorts.” I hesitate. What I’m suggesting is fucking crazy. She’ll really think I’m insane for even asking. “My brother is celebrating his recent engagement.”
“A party?” She turns to face me once more, hands on her hips. She’s a tiny little thing without the heels. “An engagement party?”
“Yes.” I haven’t been able to get Kevin’s call out of my head. I even had a dream last night that I went to the party—and that I was actually married to Evelyn. We had matching rings on our fingers, and I remember the ball of dread that burned in the pit of my stomach as we milled about like a supposed happy couple. How I was filled with the urge to get Kevin alone and confess I was absolutely miserable, and I needed him to help me get out of this sham of a marriage.
I woke up bathed in sweat and grateful it was all a dream. Or a nightmare.
However you want to view it.
“And you want me to go with you. To this party, where your entire family will be. As your date.” She’s watching me like I’ve got bugs crawling all over my skin.
“His beautiful future bride Rachelle insisted I make an appearance.” Well, that’s a lie. “And he really wants me there.” There’s some truth. “They want both families there to help celebrate the merger.”
Well, Kevin didn’t actually call it a merger, but that’s what it feels like.
“Merger?” Sarah asks incredulously. “That sounds horrible.”
Shit. I can’t admit that was my word choice. “That’s what he called it.”
“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “He sounds worse than you.”
I don’t take it as an insult.
“Where’s this party at anyway?” Sarah asks.
“Well.” I rub my jaw, hoping like hell she doesn’t turn me down after this. “It’s in San Francisco.”
Her mouth pops open. Damn, she’s cute when she does that. “You want me to go to a family engagement party with you in San Francisco.”
“Yes.” I nod. Why is she so surprised? The city isn’t that far.
Sarah’s eyes go a little wider, but otherwise, she seems calm. “You don’t mind bringing me around your family?
”
“Not at all,” I reassure her truthfully.
“What are you going to tell them?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“When you introduce me to good ol’ Mom and Dad, to your brother, to whatever other siblings you have, Aunt May and Uncle Ben, how are you going to introduce me to them?” I do get her Spider-Man reference, which I wholly appreciate. “What are you going to call me?”
I contemplate her, crossing my arms once more. Seems she’s making this more difficult than it needs to be. And I don’t even bother telling her that my mother died years ago. I’ll let her in on that later, if necessary. Right now, that’s none of her business. “My date?”
“Okay. This is weird.” Her cheeks go pink. She’s adorable. And simple. That’s not an insult either. There’s something so—intriguing about this woman. Sarah can maintain an air of mystery, yet when it comes to her, what you see is what you get. I find that fascinating. When was the last time I had something simple in my life?
“It’s as weird as you want to make it be.” I send her a look. “And we don’t need to make it that weird.”
“This entire situation is weird!” She throws her arms up, like she’s exasperated with me. She probably is. “Isn’t this a serious family event?”
“I suppose.” I shrug. It is a serious family event—that’s why I want to bring Sarah. She’s the perfect shield to protect me from the endless questioning from my father, my stepmother, Candice, Kevin. If I have a beautiful woman on my arm, Rachelle’s family—especially my ex-fiancée—can’t bother me.
“Yet you’ll bring some random woman to your brother’s engagement party?” She sounds incredulous.
“Trust me, Miss Harrison…” I lower my voice, my gaze lingering on her perfect, plump lips. “You are anything but random.”
She stands a little straighter, her cheeks blazing red, but she doesn’t say a word.
Unfortunately.
I do love it when she puts up at least a little bit of a fight.
“Let me be honest.” I walk around the desk so I can settle into my chair. She stays put, clear across the room, but at least she’s still looking at me and not making a mad dash for the door. “I’m not big on romance.”
Fake Date Page 9