Another snort. “You don’t say.”
“I don’t have to be. Women tend to just fall at my feet and do whatever I want, whenever I want it.”
Her delicate brows shoot straight up. “Ego much?”
I ignore her little jabs. “They don’t ever play hard to get.”
“Really? Well, I’m pretty sure I do,” she says with the faintest hint of triumph.
“Yes,” I agree. “You do.”
And that’s what I like the most about her.
Fourteen
Sarah
This entire conversation is surreal. I don’t know what Mr. Gaines is wanting from me—well, yes, I do, he wants to take me to his brother’s engagement party, which is kind of strange, don’t you think?
I’m not sure if I can trust his motives. He’s probably saying this so he can still land me in his bed. I mean, the man did send me skimpy lingerie as a gift.
Twice.
Not like that would be a hardship, finding myself in Jared Gaines’ bed. I can only imagine how skilled he must be.
My entire body goes hot at the thought.
“You’ve played hard to get since the moment I’ve met you, and I must say, I never realized before just how much I love a challenge.” He sends me a pointed look. “You, Miss Harrison, challenge me.”
I huff out an irritated breath. “If we’re really going to an engagement party together, maybe we should at least call each other by our first names on a regular basis?”
“All right…Sarah.” A shiver moves through me at the way he draws out my name, almost as if he’s savoring it. “If anyone else spoke to me like you just did, I would’ve kicked them out of my office.”
My stomach flips. “Really?”
He nods, his gaze roaming over me, making me warm. “No one speaks to me that way. Ever.”
The stern warning behind his words makes my entire body quiver. “Are you looking for an apology?”
He smiles. Though it’s not a real, full-blown smile. More like the faintest upward curve of his mouth, his eyes sparkling. My heart trips over itself seeing him like this. Like he’s…happy? This is not the Mr. Gaines I deal with. Not even close. “I assume you won’t give me one.”
“You’re right. Considering you’ve been blatantly propositioning me for the last week, I think you should be the one who apologizes.”
Jared chuckles and the sound resonates within me. Oh, he has a nice laugh. He has a nice everything—except for that monster ego. “You’ll go with me to Kevin and Rachelle’s engagement party.”
My mouth drops open. It’s not like he’s asking. More like he’s telling me that he wants to take me.
“It’s next weekend,” he continues, repeating himself.
“Um…”
“In San Francisco.”
“Uh…” Is he freaking for real right now?
“And from what I understand from the invitation my brother sent me, it seems they’re celebrating the entire weekend,” he adds.
Oh, hell no. “I don’t thi—”
“Just say yes, Sarah.” His voice is firm, like he refuses to let me argue.
I don’t understand him. At all. “Why?”
He frowns. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to take me to this party?”
“We know each other,” he says. I cough, trying to hide my snort of laughter. “Sort of.” I roll my eyes in the most come on gesture of all gestures. “If we’re being completely honest with each other, it’s because I can trust that I’ll take you to my brother’s engagement party and you won’t expect…compensation for your time.”
“If you’re hinting that I might ask you to pay me to go with you, you’ve lost your damn mind,” I retort, highly annoyed and beyond offended. If he really thinks I want money in order to go with him to San Francisco, then he’s freaking nuts.
Though really, why would I want to go? He makes me crazy.
With lust.
There goes that nagging little voice in my head that sounds like Caroline.
I don’t like really like him.
Liar.
There’s something so…curious as to why he would want me to go with him. He’s a powerful man who acts like he’s scared of nothing. Yet he acts almost intimidated about going to a family party to celebrate his brother’s future.
It’s weird.
“I would never suggest that I’d pay you.” He sounds downright appalled, which is reassuring. “But considering it’s a weekend trip, with a few activities planned throughout, I assume I’ll need to provide you with certain—things.” He shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders, drawing my attention to the charcoal gray suit he’s wearing. The man dresses to perfection. I’m sure one of his suits costs more than our monthly mortgage.
“What sort of things?” I ask warily. The last thing I need is more gifts.
“Clothes. Jewelry. Whatever.” He waves a hand, like it’s no big deal, even though he said the word jewelry. That equals expensive in my mind. “You have to look the part.”
“What part?” I can’t believe I’m seriously contemplating this. Worse, I can’t believe he’s seriously suggesting it.
“As my girlfriend, of course.”
Weirder still, I’m having a total déjà vu moment right now, but not for me. More like for…my friend Caroline. She did something like this with Alex, her boyfriend. Only he took her on a private jet to Paris.
Mr. Gaines is offering a weekend in San Francisco, which sounds pretty fantastic, I can’t deny it, but do I really want to spend an entire weekend with this man? What if his family is exactly like him?
I shudder at the thought.
But a weekend getaway sort of sounds like a dream come true. When was the last time I did something just for me? Like take an entire weekend off and go out of town?
I can’t even remember. I’m thinking I’ve never done something like this.
The office is still quiet, which I assume means he’s waiting for me to say something. He is, after all, watching me expectantly, his brows lifted.
“So what you’re telling me is that want me to be your, what—pretend girlfriend for the weekend?” I ask.
“Maybe.” He hesitates, then shakes his head once. “Actually, that’s exactly what I’m asking from you.”
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. What he’s saying, what he’s asking me to do…it sounds straight out of a reality TV show. Or a really bad movie on Lifetime. I’d say the Hallmark Channel, but those movies are squeaky clean and Mr. Lingerie Fetish over here is not what I’d call squeaky clean.
Not even close.
I notice quickly he’s not laughing along with me, so I stop. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t even crack a smile. “I am.” He tilts his head to the side, his gaze contemplative. “How old are you anyway?”
“That right there.” I point at him. “You’re not allowed to do that.”
He leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed. “Do what?”
“Ask me how old I am. That’s kind of insulting.”
“Only if you’re pretending to be twenty when you’re really thirty-five.” He squints, like he’s trying to read my mind. Or guess my age. “You tell me how old you are and I’ll tell you how old I am.”
Hmm. That sounds like a fair deal. “Fine.” To draw out the moment I go to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sit, resting my hands in my lap. “I’m twenty-four. Almost twenty-five.”
His gaze slides over me again, in that slow, leisurely way that makes me turn to mush inside. He’s annoyingly sexy. “You’re just a baby,” he says. His voice is extra low, and I imagine what it would be like, to have him whisper those same words in my ear.
Now I’m trembling, damn it.
To hide my reaction, I lift my chin, trying my best to appear unruffled. “I’m very mature for my age.” Ugh. Just saying that makes me sound like a total baby, even though it’s true. I am very mature for my age. I’ve
had a lot thrown on me since my parents died, and I can handle it all just fine.
“I’m sure you are.” His placating tone is not helping matters and I glare at him. “Go ahead. Ask me how old I am.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.” He smiles again, though there’s no teeth. Just that faint curve of his lush mouth again. It’s powerful. Imagine what might happen if he flashed his teeth at me? Might drop to the floor in excitement. “See? A baby compared to me.”
Ten years older. Why do I find that kind of sexy? Okay, fine. I find it really sexy, which maybe I should be worried about. Like, do I have a daddy complex?
But seriously, all the guys I know around my age are still so immature. A lot of them love to party. Most of them have no idea what they want to do with their life. Not that I have any room to judge.
This man, though. He has a successful career and more money than God. He knows exactly what he wants.
And for some strange reason, I think he wants…
Me?
“Will our age difference be a problem?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything.
“No.” I shake my head, trying for confident. “Not at all.”
“So you’ll accompany me next weekend.”
“Yes.” The word pops out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
What the hell did I just agree to?
Jared grabs his phone, frowning at the screen as he brings up his calendar. “Can I take you shopping tomorrow evening?”
I wrinkle my nose and he glances up, catching my displeased look. “I’m not sure.”
“Why? Do you have plans?” He appears genuinely perplexed.
“Maybe.” Not really. I think I was going to help Andie with her English project, but that’s it.
He growls irritably and glances over his calendar once more. “I need a firm answer, Miss Harrison.”
“How about Friday night? The stores are open later, so that would work out better.” Our gazes clash once again. He’s scowling at me. “And it’s Sarah.”
“Sarah.” He growls my name, sounding irritable. “You work Friday?”
“Till six.”
“I’ll pick you up at six-ten.”
“At Bliss?” I frown. “Maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
I don’t want my co-workers to see me meeting with Mr. Gaines—I mean Jared. That’s just weird. And I don’t feel like explaining to them what we’re doing. “You should pick me up somewhere else. Or we could meet.”
“Where?”
“In front of the coffee shop down the street from Bliss.” Now he’s frowning. “Sweet Dreams. Ever heard of it?” Everyone who lives on the Monterey Peninsula has heard of Sweet Dreams. Stella’s family has owned that place for generations. It’s practically an institution in Carmel-by-the-Sea.
“Noted.” He taps at his phone screen and then pushes it away from him. “Ten minutes after six at the coffee shop down the street from Bliss. Correct?”
“Sounds good.” I rise to my feet, trying to fight the shock that wants to take over me. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Earlier he said that he’s intrigued by me, and I have to admit…
I’m just as intrigued by him. And the reason why he wants me to go to this party with him.
He’s a mystery I want to figure out.
“Any store preferences? Designers you like?” he asks.
“No, not really.” I’m not about to make some gauche recommendation and have him potentially make fun of me. He’s the one with sophisticated taste. I’d be perfectly content going to Target and picking out a few things.
“I’ll text you Friday morning and confirm our arrangements.”
Oh Lord. He just made it sound like we’re having a business meeting. “How can you text me if you don’t have my number?”
Without hesitation, he demands, “Give me your number.”
I automatically do as he commands, as if I have no control over myself while he grabs his phone, and within seconds, I have a text from Jared Gaines’ phone number that says this:
Can’t wait to see you Friday.
I ignore the warm feeling that emanates through me at his words. He’s just trying to charm me. And though I hate to admit this…
It’s working.
“Are you trying to flirt with me?” I ask, calling him out.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps. You should get used to it. You are my pretend girlfriend, after all.”
“True,” I say, my voice faint.
“Put your shoes back on, Sarah,” he quietly commands, and I do as he says, walking across the room where I kicked them and slipping one on, then the other, my mind a whirl the entire time.
How am I supposed to do this? Pretend to be his girlfriend and convince his family we’re legit? How can I actually go with him to San Francisco for the entire weekend and play like we’re a real couple? This is pure insanity.
Back out, the logical voice inside my head tells me. Back out, walk out and never talk to this asshole again.
“See you Friday night,” I find myself telling him as I start to leave his office.
Ugh. For once, I’m not listening to that logical voice inside my head.
“Don’t forget your gifts,” he reminds me.
I go completely still and turn to face him yet again. “You really want me to keep everything?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice low, his eyes dark. “After all, you were the one I had in mind when I purchased it all.”
Oh. Oh. My entire body goes liquid and I rush toward his desk, grab the boxes and scurry out of his office before I do something stupid.
Like jump him.
Fifteen
“I’ve done something crazy,” I tell Eleanor once we’re settled at our table, giant salads perched in front of us. We’ve grown closer the last year or so, and we try to meet for lunch at least once every other week, sometimes even once a week, since the hair salon she works at is just down the way from Bliss.
Eleanor’s fork pauses in her salad bowl, her gaze lifting to meet mine. “Uh oh. What happened?”
I take a bite of my salad. Sip from my glass of lemonade. Do my best to avoid the curious stare aimed straight at me. “I don’t know where to start,” I finally admit.
Her expression is bright. She’s the sunniest, sweetest girl I know, I swear. Wholesome California girl looks, with the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She has tan skin and a curvy figure and sometimes I’m incredibly envious of her beauty. But that usually passes considering she’s just so incredibly nice. “How about at the beginning?”
Setting my fork down, I clear my throat and ask, “Remember how my client sent me the lingerie set?”
“Of course,” she immediately answers, taking a sip of her hibiscus berry tea. It’s such a bright pink, I wonder if it could glow in the dark. “I forgot to check in and ask if you ever went to his office.”
“Oh, I went to his office all right,” I say, the sarcasm extra thick. “Eventually. After he gave me a pair of Louboutins, a giant bouquet of flowers and another lingerie set.”
“Wait, he gave you more stuff? Oh my God.” Her gaze drops to my feet. “Are you wearing the Louboutins right now?”
My face goes hot. I have a sneaking suspicion I will wear these shoes until they fall off my feet. “Yeah.”
“You actually kept them? Wow. I mean, I guess I can’t blame you. They’re freaking Louboutins, after all. I bet those cost at least six hundred bucks.” Her gaze meets mine once again. “So I assume he’s the reason you did something crazy.”
I nod, forking up another mouthful of salad, though it feels like it’s expanding in my mouth as I chew. So gross.
“Maybe you’ll think it’s straight out of one of those romance novels you’re always reading,” I tell her. Eleanor is our sweet romantic of the group. Maybe she’ll think it’s a good idea, what I agreed to do with Jared.
“Please don’t tell me you had sex with him on
his desk, wearing the Louboutins and nothing else.” Eleanor looks vaguely horrified. “What did Caroline and Stella call it? Hate-fucking?”
“No!” I look around, making sure no one heard what just came out of Eleanor’s mouth, but no one is paying us any attention. I lower my voice. “Of course not.”
“Oh, thank God.” Eleanor rests her hand against her chest, her shoulders sagging with relief. “I was afraid that’s what you were going to tell me.”
“I wouldn’t have sex with him on his desk at his office.” Wearing nothing but the Louboutins. Hmmm…
“You’re imagining it right now, aren’t you?” Eleanor asks, sounding horrified.
“No, of course not.” I wave a hand, dismissing her worry.
“Huh. Sure.” She points her fork at me. “Now tell me what happened before I stab you.”
Dang, she’s extremely hostile. “I agreed to go with him to his brother’s engagement party in San Francisco next weekend.”
Her fork clatters against the edge of the bowl when she drops it, making an extra loud sound. Not that anyone notices in the noisy café we’re eating at. “He asked you on an out of town date and you said yes?”
She sounds shocked. I suppose she should be. I’m still a little in shock as well. “Not really a date date, if you know what I mean. More like he asked me to accompany him to be his…fake date. We don’t really like each other, remember?” Because of course nothing real could happen between us.
“You don’t like each other? Keep convincing yourself of that,” she says drolly.
“Whatever. He asked me to accompany him to San Francisco, and I said yes.” Which means I’m insane. I’m going out of town with a man I don’t know very well and I’m going to pretend to be interested in him.
The more I think about it, the more I realize I should probably back out.
“Well, this sounds vaguely familiar,” she says, referring to Caroline. “Do tell.”
I launch into the entire story. How I went to his office and he was borderline rude, and I tried to return the gifts he sent to me, but he refused to take them.
Fake Date Page 10