His chair grates as he pushes away from the table. “That’s work. Be right back.”
For a split second, I forget all about my internship and his promise to help me out. Because my eyes are glued to his taut ass as he hurries out of the room.
Chapter 3
Prescott spends the next few minutes in the bedroom speaking animatedly with whoever is on the other line. I can’t hear the conversation but when he walks back into the kitchen, his whole mood has changed. He lands heavily into his chair and runs both hands through his dark, silky mane.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He groans pushing his half-eaten eggs aside. “That was a work colleague.”
I check out the clock on the stove. “Kind of early for your ‘work colleague’ to be harassing you. Isn’t it?”
He chuckles mirthlessly. “Time and space mean nothing to Daniel Trotten. Ever since he made partner at the law firm, it’s like he’s got the biggest chip on his shoulder.”
“So, what does he want from you?” I ask as I cut my omelette with the side of my fork and shove a huge chunk into my mouth.
“Long story,” Prescott says as his big hand wraps around this coffee mug.
I put my elbows on the table and lean across to him. “That’s totally unfair,” I tell him. “You just pried all of my deepest, darkest fears out of me and now you’re shutting me out. Come on, let’s even the playing field. Tell me why your coworker is busting your balls.”
That earns me a handsome, one-sided half-smile. “Okay. Fine,” he sighs. “Harvey Marquette. Heard of him?”
I nod with an arched brow and shove more food into my face. “Who hasn’t heard of him?” I say with my mouth full. Then, I feel self-conscious. I gulp my coffee to wash the food down. Evangeline always jokes that I have the table manners of a drunken sailor. “He’s been all over the news. He’s the real estate developer buying up half of suburban Illinois and putting up condos. If I’m not mistaken, I think he even owns this building.”
“That’s him,” Prescott says looking somewhat surprised that I’m up to date on current affairs. I should be offended at his condescension but he’s too gorgeous to get mad at. “So, rumor has it that he’s in the process of passing his multi-billion-dollar business off to his sons. It’s going to be a mammoth transaction. Apparently, he’s looking to fire his current attorneys and hire a new firm. Daniel wants it to be our firm, obviously, and he wants me to seal the deal.”
“Cool,” I say feeling rather impressed. “Harvey Marquette is a big fish. And you’re a relatively new lawyer. It’s a good thing that your firm is entrusting you with a huge file like that, isn’t it?” I don’t understand why Prescott isn’t excited about this. Bringing a client like Marquette into the firm will do wonders for his career…I think.
He expels a loaded breath. “It’s not that simple.”
I shrug and reach for the cold piece of bacon sitting abandoned on the edge of his plate. “You’re a charming guy. You’ll be able to get him on board.”
My pep talk falls on deaf ears. He doesn’t seem convinced. “Problem is, Marquette is a paranoid son-of-a-bitch. And he actually has every right to be. His last lawyer tried to make a move on his wife. So now, he wants to hire a lawyer who’s already in a serious, committed relationship.”
“What?” I say lifting an eyebrow. “That’s bullshit.”
“It is. But try explaining that to Daniel? He isn’t having it. Especially since, as far as he knows I’m a happily engaged man, planning a wedding to my gorgeous fiancée. To make matters worse, Daniel just got separated from his wife so our boss doesn’t want him anywhere near Marquette.”
I throw back my head and laugh. It’s insensitive but I can’t help it. “Tell him the truth. Tell him that you and Bianca broke up.”
“I’m guaranteed to make junior partner if I can land this client, Annaleigh. That would be a huge leap in my career. Overnight. If I can just do this one thing. Anyway, there’s this gala in honor of Marquette at the mayor’s residence in a few weeks. Daniel wants me there and he wants me to get Marquette to agree to signing a retainer with our firm.”
Prescott buries his face in his hands, thinking. I can’t help gawk at his glorious, silky black hair as it he rakes his fingers through it…And I can’t help but steal another slice of bacon off of his plate.
Suddenly, his head shoots up and he looks straight at me. “Unless…unless…”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him as an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. “Unless what?”
“Unless I get someone else to pretend to be my fiancée.” His eyes shine as if that’s the best idea he’s had in months.
I chuckle nervously as I munch away on my stolen pig fat because something tells me that I won’t like where his line of reasoning goes next. “What?”
“That’s it. All I have to do is pretend to be engaged until after the gala, until after Marquette chooses our firm to be his legal counsel. Then, I can come up with some sob-story about how my fiancée and I had to go our separate ways. Irreconcilable differences or some bullshit like that.”
“You’re crazy,” I say as I lick my fingers clean.
His eyes sparkle at me. “It’s genius, Annaleigh. Admit it.”
“It’s insane,” I tell him before taking a sip of my coffee. “And who would be crazy enough to play your dutiful fiancée, anyway?”
He deadpans. “You!”
“Psht!” Coffee goes flying out of my mouth. Miraculously, Prescott’s shirt escapes unscathed. “Me?!”
“Yes, you!” he insists. “You’re perfect!”
“Uh-uh. Nope. No way. I’m not getting pulled onto the crazy train.” I shake my head vigorously.
“Come on, Leigh. You’re the perfect person to help me,” he argues. “Come to think of it, you’re probably the only person who can help me with this. Aside from Evangeline, no woman knows me like you do.”
That’s true. My brain is chock full of useless trivia about Prescott Brooks. I know that his middle name is ‘Clifford’ and that he has a tiny birthmark on his left index finger, I know that he wore a blue tie with silver pin stripes to his parents’ 25th wedding anniversary last fall, I remember the precise date that he graduated from Axe Body Spray to the warm, musky, virile scent he wears now. In all honesty, I could go toe-to-toe with any of his ex-girlfriends in a game of ‘Prescott Jeopardy’.
But still, that doesn’t mean I’m qualified to play his girlfriend.
“Why would I ever agree to partaking in this farce?” I say with a humorless laugh despite the wild flutter in my chest.
“Because we’re friends. And you want to see me become the youngest junior partner in the history of Richards, Ross and Associates. And if I don’t do this, I might even lose my job because in a small town like Reyfield, every file my firm lands is important.” His golden brown eyes beckon to me like deep pools of warm caramel and I just want to jump right in. I wonder if he uses those bedroom eyes in the courtroom because if he does, that would certainly explain his flawless professional track record.
Still, I hold my ground. “Nice try. But I can’t participate in your shenanigans – ”
He pulls in a sharp breath. “And because if you help me with this…I’ll help you get that internship at Reyfield Memorial.”
My head snaps up to look at him. “Prescott…”
He shrugs. “Hey, if you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” His eyes drill into me, doing that hypnotic thing that gets me to melt a little on the inside. And for a second, I wonder what it’s like to look into those eyes during sex.
Must be intense.
Focus, Annaleigh. Focus. This alluring, seductive devil is negotiating for your soul right now.
I scramble for another excuse. “I’m not even a good actress anyway. Everybody will figure out that we’re faking it.”
“That’s the thing. We won’t have to fake it. What we have is real.”
My heart skips a beat. Several bea
ts, actually. Did Prescott just admit to having feelings for me?
He elaborates. “We’ve known each other our whole lives. You know everything about me.”
And just like that, my delusional little bubble pops.
“Help me, Annaleigh. Please.” He looks so earnest when he says it. Damn, he’s good at this persuasion stuff. He’s seriously getting into my head.
“I – I can’t…” I say, even as I feel my resolve melting.
Then, he leans back in his chair and runs his hand through that thick head of hair. “You must not really want that internship, then…” he taunts.
“This is extortion,” I laugh, burying my face in my hands, trying to process the ridiculousness of this situation. “Is this even legal?”
He smirks. “Just using my legal knowledge to my advantage. Can you blame me?”
“What kind of person does that?” I roll my eyes.
“A desperate person, which is what I am.” He looks at me intently then he bites on his thick bottom lip.
I weigh the situation carefully in my mind. Is it really that bad, pretending to be in a relationship with Prescott? It’s not like I’ve never thought about it. Hell – I spent my whole adolescence daydreaming about walking down the halls of Reyfield High on his arm. He’s gorgeous and funny and smart and hella charming. This could be fun. And when it’s all over, he’ll have his new client and I’ll have my internship.
Win-win, right?
“Leigh, it’s just for one night. For one gala. We go to the venue, you look pretty, you smile and brush lint off of my jacket. You do the whole trophy wife thing. Then, in return, I help you get that internship and your career shoots forward by leaps and bounds.”
It sounds tempting. One night with Prescott. One night that puts my career on the fast-track and allows me to live out a fantasy that I’ve had my whole life…
“One night?” I ask.
“One night.” His eyes are sincere. “Just long enough that Mr. Marquette falls in love with the idea of having me as his lawyer. It’ll be over before you know it.”
My resistance is crumbling with each word that falls out of his handsome face and he knows it.
I swallow. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” I shrug in defeat and slump back in the chair.
“Wait – you’re doing it? You’ll do it?” Excitement bounces off of him in waves.
“I’ll do it.” Skepticism still lingers in my tone.
He leaps out of his seat and scoops me up into his arms, spinning me around like he’s about to javelin-hurl me across the room. He kisses my cheek repeatedly. “Thank you, Annaleigh. Thank you.”
“I really need this internship,” I say into the air. But in the back of my mind, I wonder if the chance to have a (fake) relationship with Prescott isn’t my main motivation.
Prescott finally sets me down, laughing. “Can you at least pretend to be a little excited about this? For my fragile ego, maybe? Despite what Bianca may say, I make a great fiancée, real or fake.”
I sigh and shake my head. “I’m sorry, Prescott. It’s just that I feel uncomfortable about the whole situation. That’s all.”
He’s still basking in his victory as he drops into his seat. “Sit down. Talk to me, Leigh. What has you so uncomfortable?”
I give him an incredulous look. “You’re asking me to pretend to be someone I’m not. You’re asking me to pretend to be your fiancée when we’ve never even been on a date. It’s weird.”
He twists his lips and seems to consider my statement. “Would you like to go on a date?”
I shake my head vigorously. “No, no, no. That’s not what I’m say –”
“That’s actually a freakin’ genius idea, Leigh. Here we are, acting all formal, treating this like a business transaction, a negotiation. We should be treating it like…a relationship. We really should go on a date.”
“No, no, no,” I say. “That’s a horrible idea. The worst idea.”
“What’s the big deal?” He reaches for his coffee mug. “Consider it a rehearsal for the real thing.”
“No, Prescott. That’s a stupid idea.”
He smirks at me. “What are you so afraid of? Are you scared you might actually like it?”
My face must be tomato-red right now. It’s suddenly twenty degrees hotter in here. “No – I will most definitely not like it.”
“Then, we have a date?” He looks at me expectantly.
I waver a little bit and Prescott takes the opportunity to pounce on my weakness. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and taps at the screen. “Sanaya?” he says, voice full of exuberance. “Get me a reservation for dinner at the Mandarin tomorrow evening. 7:00 p.m. I have a fake date with my fake fiancée.”
Chapter 4
Blakely shuffles into the cafeteria, eyes glued to the textbook open in her hands, and walks straight into a jock carrying his lunch combo toward his group of friends. I lean back in my seat and watch the interaction.
The books tumble out of her hands and the jock takes one look at her before dropping to his knees to help her pick up her stuff. His mesmerized gaze searches for contact with hers the whole time. But Blakely is too fast.
She dives for the books like a professional football player eager to score the winning touchdown. The jock wears a puzzled expression as Blakely holds the books possessively to her chest and gives him an awkward but grateful smile before shambling away.
Typical Blakely. Clumsy, timid, socially-awkward but insanely beautiful.
I laugh as she heads toward my table. “Hey roomie,” I say pushing my books aside to make room for her. “What ya readin’?”
She glances around, paranoia coloring her eyes before she brings her focus to me and speaks in a hushed voice. “The Virgin Intern’s One-Night Werebear Double Team.”
My eyebrows knit together. “The what?” Blakely sighs pulling her Kindle out of her textbook and stuffing it into her bag. She’s obviously frustrated that I’m not familiar with her latest paranormal kinky read.
Blakely is probably the last virgin standing at Reyfield Community College. And it’s not because she isn’t hot as hell. She gives off this sweet-shy-girl vibe, but I know that she’s a closet freak just waiting to let loose. She gets her rocks off vicariously through the characters in her smut reads. The only reason I even know about her kinky book obsession is because we’re roommates. With strangers, she may be guarded, but she shows her true colors with me.
She leans over to my tray and grabs a French fry. I slide the food her way. Gotta sweeten her up because I’ve got a huge favor to ask. “Hey, can I borrow your car tomorrow night? I’ve got a –”
Blakely’s piercing green eyes narrow in on my face. “You’ve got a what?”
“Um…a thing…”
Her expression grows suspicious. “A thing? You mean a date?”
“Uh…” I don’t want to lie to Blakely but I also don’t want to admit to her that I just agreed to be the fake fiancée of my best friend’s big brother.
“Ha! Stop being sneaky, Annaleigh! You have a date!” She’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Can you please stop shrieking? You’re making me nervous as hell. It’s not a date…technically.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She pushes the fries aside and plants her elbows on the table. “But why are you acting all weird? Is it the guy? He’s in the mafia, isn’t he? Or is he in a motorcycle gang?”
I wrinkle my forehead at her. This girl is a permanent resident of Dream Land. “No, Blakely. He isn’t in the mafia and he isn’t in a motorcycle gang. And for the record, he isn’t a werewolf, either,” I add snidely. “This isn’t one of your romance novels.”
“Wait – is he married?” Her eyebrow juts up.
I swear half the cafeteria turns and stares down our table. “No, he isn’t married,” I say in an irritated whisper. “And please keep your voice down.”
Her shoulders relax visibly. “Good because nobody likes cheating in a love story. S
o, what’s the big secret? Is it someone I know?”
Ah – you see that right there? – I can deflect and avoid to my heart’s delight. But I can’t blatantly lie to Blakely.
I sigh. “It’s Prescott, okay?”
“Prescott? Evangeline’s brother, Prescott?” Her eyes bulge out of her head. “Does Evangeline know?”
“No, she doesn’t know. And I’m not telling her. And neither are you. Because it’s more of a business transaction than a date, really.”
“Explain! Now!”
I close my eyes and massage my temples. This thing is already starting to feel out of hand. “Prescott’s gonna help me get an internship at the hospital lab. But first, he needs me to pretend that we’re in a relationship to impress one of his potential clients.” I take a few minutes to explain the whole ludicrous situation to her in detail.
Dirty Favor (The Dirty Suburbs Book 4) Page 3