by Katie Allen
“Oops.” Topher pulled her finger back to avoid overflowing the cup. She popped on a plastic lid and handed it over the counter to a woman talking on her cell phone. The customer snatched the drink and turned on her heel, never pausing in her conversation.
Topher smiled at the woman’s back, showing all her teeth. “You’re welcome,” she sing-songed. “Have a nice day.”
The woman didn’t look back as she shoved the door open with her shoulder and sailed out into the sunny day.
Shrugging off her rudeness, Topher turned to Danny. “You want your usual triple shot?”
“Yep, hook me up. How’s my favorite actress disguised as a barista?” He propped a hip against the counter, giving her a blindingly white smile and his full attention, which instantly made her suspicious.
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
The surprised expression on his tan, well-moisturized face looked fake. Danny needed a few acting lessons. “I’m just interested in how you are doing, how things are going in—what neighborhood do you live in again?”
Topher made a face that only the espresso machine saw. “Don’t worry—you don’t need to know. You’ll never have to visit.”
“But I’m interested,” Danny insisted. “Have you gotten any acting jobs lately?”
She handed him his coffee. “I got a call-back for a commercial—a local furniture store. You’ve already stopped listening, haven’t you?”
“What?” He jerked his blue eyes back to her. “Of course not. Go on—that’s fascinating.”
“Never mind.”
He was the only customer at the coffee shop at that moment, so Topher grabbed a rag to wipe down the counters. Everything in the place, including her, would be covered with a film of steamed milk by the end of the day, so she used any free moment to clean.
She watched him as she worked. Danny seemed fidgety today. They weren’t close friends, but he came in for his caffeine fix almost every morning, so she was pretty familiar with how Danny acted on a normal day. Obviously, today was not normal.
Danny fiddled with his coffee, shifting his weight back and forth, and fiddled with his hair, which had been cut, colored and styled into a perfectly arranged blond mess. His young-Republican-poster-boy self was positively twitchy.
“Listen,” he finally said. “Could you sit down for a second? I have a proposition for you.”
Topher raised an eyebrow, not pausing in her cleaning. “Thanks, but you’re not really my type.” For a pretty trust-funder—and she’d known a lot—Danny seemed harmless enough, but there was no attraction on her side—none. She’d rather date a slice of unbuttered toast.
“What?” Danny looked offended. “Of course I’m your type. I’m everyone’s type. Besides, that’s not the type of proposition I was talking about. I meant a job—an acting job.”
“Uh-huh.” Although she was still skeptical, Topher couldn’t help but pause, her interest caught by the two magic words—acting and job. “You taking up directing now?”
“Nah,” he said but his eyes lit up as he considered the idea. “Although I would be a pretty kick-ass director.”
Topher just snorted.
“It’s more of a real-life type of acting,” he explained.
“Like a reality show?” she asked, her suspicions on high alert.
“Even more real-life.”
“I’m not having sex with you.” Topher went back to her cleaning. “Even if—especially if—you pay me.”
Danny’s eyes widened behind his mop of bangs. “I don’t remember asking you to.” He sounded miffed. “You seem to have sex on the brain.”
“Yeah, and most people seem to think actress and hooker are synonymous.” Turning her back on his look of offended innocence, she rinsed the washrag out in the sink.
She heard Danny give an impatient huff. “Why are we talking about hookers?” he asked. “This job has nothing to do with sex.”
Glancing over her shoulder at him, Topher asked, “So what’s the deal then?”
“Come out here and sit down.”
She hung the rag up to dry and turned to face Danny, crossing her arms over her chest. Within a few seconds, he dropped his gaze. “Or keep standing there.”
They eyed each other in silence for a long minute.
“Job,” she finally reminded him.
Glancing away, he ran his hand through his floppy mop. Topher could tell it had been expensively cut to fall in just the right state of casual disarray. Self-consciously, she tugged at the ends of her own blond locks, remembering her last home haircut attempt with two mirrors and her nail scissors.
“Hurry up, Danny—customers are going to be coming in any minute.” She glanced at the coffee shop door.
“Fine, fine. It’d be for two weeks at my uncle’s house outside of Chicago.”
Topher looked at him curiously. “Your uncle’s house? I thought this was an acting job.”
“It is.” He tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, trying to look casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “You’d be acting as my girlfriend.”
“Danny!” Fists on her hips, Topher glared at him. “Did we not just cover the ‘no sex’ thing two minutes ago?”
He threw up his hands, palms out. “No, not like that! You’d just be acting—we wouldn’t actually do...anything. Barb would kill me.”
“What? Who’s Barb?” she asked.
“My girlfriend,” Danny said, as if it were obvious.
“Your girlfriend.”
He nodded.
“Your actual, real-life girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
“I have a novel idea. Why not have your girlfriend, I don’t know, act as your girlfriend?”
“No need to get all sarcastic.”
Topher opened her mouth to tell him that it was actually an excellent time to get all sarcastic, but he spoke first.
“I need you to be a really bad girlfriend.”
“Danny, I swear that triple shot has fried your brain. What are you talking about?”
He sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair again. “It made a lot more sense in my head.”
“I bet it did.” Circling the counter, Topher pulled out a small metal chair and plopped down. “Explain.”
Lowering himself to the chair across from hers, Danny grinned hopefully. “Does this mean you’re considering it?”
“Since I have no idea what you’re babbling about, no. This means that my feet hurt and it’s only halfway through my shift. It also means that you’re taking forever to get to the point, so I figured I might as well sit down while I can.” She made a “hurry up” circle with her hand. “So?”
Looking sulky, Danny scrunched down in his chair. “Fine. You’ve seen my girlfriend, right?”
“The non-imaginary one? Barb?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think so—wait, is she the skinny redhead you’ve come in with a few times?”
Danny beamed. “That’s her! Isn’t she gorgeous?”
“Sure, whatever. So why do you need a fake girlfriend if you have the carrot-top?”
“I don’t think she would like being called that.” Danny’s grin fell away. “And the problem is my uncle. He doesn’t like her.”
Topher shrugged. “So? I don’t think my parents have liked any guy I’ve dated. You’re what—twenty-something?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Hey, me, too! Anyway, you’re an adult. You can date all the malnourished redheads you want.” Topher moved to push up from her chair.
Danny leaned forward. “You don’t understand. I don’t get my trust fund until I’m twenty-five. That’s almost three years away—if my uncle cuts me off, I could starve.”
She shrugged. “So get a job or tw
o like all the rest of us adults. The redhead could get a job, too, and you could live together in a romantic efficiency apartment with a murphy bed and a hot plate. She doesn’t look like she’d be too expensive to feed.”
Wincing, he shook his head. “I’m in school. I can’t get a job—I have to study. And besides...”
“The redhead is used to a certain standard of living?” Topher guessed.
He looked uncomfortable. “It’s not her—it’s her parents. They have a lot of money and she’s their only child, so they’re pretty protective. I don’t think they’d take so well to the idea of their daughter dating someone who has to flip burgers to pay the rent on some crappy apartment.”
“So? Didn’t we just cover the part about you both being adults? Unless...” she said, eyeing him as a thought occurred to her. “She’s not underage, is she?”
“Of course not.” He sounded offended. “She’s older than I am.”
“Really?” she asked, interested. “How much older?”
Danny dropped his eyes to the table between them. “Five years,” he mumbled.
“Ah.” She nodded, mentally adding another five years to that number. “So what’s the deal with the parents, then?”
Glancing up through his fringe of bangs, he admitted, “I’m a little scared of her dad.”
“What—is he a big guy or something? Is he always cleaning his gun when you pick her up for a date? Has he threatened to smack you around if you take advantage of his little girl?” Topher knew she shouldn’t find the situation amusing but she couldn’t help it. She and Danny were the same age but he seemed so much younger, so filled with drama and angst.
“Or have me killed.”
Topher’s startled gaze flew to his face. “What? Are you serious?”
“Totally,” he said. “Barb’s last name is Golfini.”
“Golfini—like that mob family?”
He shook his head. “Not like—is. Her dad is Mike Golfini.”
Topher gaped at him. “Her dad is the Tiny Mike Golfini?”
“Yep.” He looked grim. “See now why I don’t want Barb’s dad pissed off at me?”
“Yeah, guess I do.” She sat back in her chair, absorbing that information. “Is that why your uncle doesn’t like Barb?”
“One reason,” he said. “He has a whole list of them. Her family, her age, her motives for dating me—as if a woman wouldn’t want to date me without my money.”
“Hmm...”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Except, have you ever considered the possibility that your uncle is right? It doesn’t seem like a good thing to worry about your girlfriend’s father killing you.”
“We love each other. This is forever. He doesn’t understand that this is the real thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very Shakespearean. How does hiring me as your fake girlfriend come into this whole thing?”
“Well,” he told her, lowering his voice despite the fact that they were still alone in the coffee shop, “I had this idea—my uncle thinks that Barb is a bad girlfriend for me, right?”
Topher shrugged. “Sure.”
“So, what if I came home for Christmas with a really bad girlfriend, someone much worse than Barb?”
“I don’t know,” she said when Danny looked at her expectantly. “You’d ruin everyone’s Christmas, including yours and Barb’s?”
It was Danny’s turn to roll his eyes. “No, stupid—it would show my uncle that Barb isn’t really as bad as he thinks. She would look golden in comparison!” He sat back, grinning with pride.
“Or it would just look like you can’t pick out a good girlfriend.” Topher pushed her chair back as she stood up. “Thanks for the job offer, but this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Wait!” Danny jumped out of his seat. “I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars. For just two weeks—whether the plan works or not.”
Topher goggled at him. Fifty thousand dollars—that was more than she’d make at both her jobs in a year.
Misunderstanding her silence, Danny upped his offer. “Fine, eighty thousand. Come on, Topher—you’re the only actress I know. Any of my friends would just mess this up.” He paused as something occurred to him. “You are a good actress, right?”
“Yeah,” she said vaguely. “I’m a good actress.” Shock held her in its grip. Eighty thousand dollars for two weeks of work, she thought, trying to wrap her mind around the concept. How could she pass this up? She could move out of the ratty apartment she shared with three other women, quit her coffee shop job, not have a coating of steamed milk on her skin at all times, leave her night job cleaning offices... She would actually have time to go to auditions—and to sleep! Firmly, she shook her head to banish the hopeful dreams. This couldn’t be possible. There had to be a catch.
“Two weeks,” she said, staring at Danny.
“Yes. The week of Christmas and New Year’s. Were you going to do something with your family?”
“No.” The holidays were a lot jollier if she avoided her parents. She got along best with them at a distance. “I just pretend to be your girlfriend?”
“That’s it.” He grinned, his eyes lighting up at the indication that she was going to agree.
Topher jumped at the jangle of the bells attached to the coffee shop door and stared at the couple walking in as if she had never seen people before. With a brisk shake of her head, she hurried around to the work side of the counter.
“Well?” Danny asked.
“Give me a day to think about it,” she told him, offering the customers the best facsimile of a smile that she could manage. “What’s your cell number—I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Looking slightly deflated, Danny handed her a card.
“What college student carries business cards?” She slipped the white square in her pocket.
“It’s good for picking up girls.” He smirked but sobered quickly. “Before I found Barb, of course.”
“Of course,” Topher said dryly and turned to the couple. “What can I get you?” She tried not to reveal how her heart was pounding with excitement. All that money for two weeks of vacation, she thought. The couple was talking, and Topher had to force Danny’s offer from her brain so she could concentrate on their order.
Eighty thousand dollars—could it be for real?
Don’t miss ACTING LESSONS by Katie Allen.
Available now wherever Carina Press ebooks are sold.
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Copyright © 2017 by Katie Allen
About the Author
Katie Allen is the fabulously filthy-minded alter ego of romantic-suspense author Katie Ruggle. She lived in an off-grid, solar-and wind-powered house in the Rocky Mountains until her family lured her back to Minnesota. When she’s not writing, Katie rides horses, shoots guns (target shooting only, since killing anything other than paper makes her ugly-cry), cross-country skis (badly) and travels to warm places where she can scuba dive. A graduate of the police academy, Katie is a self-professed forensics nerd. A fan of anything that makes her feel like a badass, she has trained in Krav Maga, boxing and gymnastics. You can connect with Katie at katieruggle.com, Facebook.com/katierugglebooks, or on Twitter, @KatieRuggle.
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Want more contemporary romance?
Then don’t miss these sexy novels from
Katie Allen
The Research & Desire series
EROTIC EXPERIMENTS (Research & Desire, book one)
NATURAL SELECTION (Research & Desire, book two)
CARNAL CHEMISTRY (Research & Desire, book three)
DOUBLE DOSE (Research & Desire, book four)
Also check out the first installment in Katie Allen’s miniseries OFF GUARD
ACTING LESSONS (Off Guard, book one)
Aspiring actress Topher is hired by spoiled trust-funder Danny to be his “new girlfriend” for the holidays, but she doesn’t expect to fall for Danny’s young and intriguing uncle, James, a self-made businessman and wounded veteran.
Things only get worse as unexpected guests arrive, like Danny’s actual girlfriend and his mobster parents. Gossip, backstabbing and attempted murder abound at this crazy holiday gathering.
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