#1 Lie

by T Gephart

  But my reprieve was about to run out. “It will mean I need to pretend to be miserable because the love of my life broke my heart. And I don’t have the energy to pretend to be sad. Not to mention dealing with one of my meddling aunts trying to set me up with someone because they’ll feel sorry for me. The last time one of them did that, I had to sit through a family dinner with a guy called Ford. He wore a purity ring and insisted there were demons testing his resolve against fornicating. I caught him staring at my breasts at least five times, so you can see how none of those scenarios work for me.”

  He fought a grin, possibly trying to not laugh. Either at the absurdity of a twenty-six-year-old woman conjuring up an imaginary man, or Ford’s battle with the temptation of my demon breasts. “So instead, you would rather orchestrate this huge production, hire a random guy to play the part of your boyfriend and hope they don’t find out?”

  “Firstly, you aren’t a random guy. I know you, you know me. Totally not random.” It wasn’t like I’d pulled over on a street corner and picked him up while cruising in my car. We’d already established that had been plan B, and I was still hoping plan A was going to pan out. “Besides, if you are as good of an actor as you claim to be then they won’t find out, will they?”

  “Are you trying to dare me into doing this?” His eyes gleamed, his mouth twitching at the edges.

  He was definitely interested, and from the look on his face, money wasn’t going to be a motivator. At least I hoped it wasn’t, considering I hadn’t disclosed the amount I was paying him yet and it wasn’t going to be a lot.

  No. He was either bored, or intrigued, and I didn’t care which one got me over the line as long as he agreed. Hell, he could think I was a tragic basket case and do it purely to fulfill his measure of charitable service.

  “I could try appealing to your ego, but I figured you’d be more receptive to a challenge.” I grinned, answering honestly. “You know, I could always ask Nick. He has a break in his filming schedule next week. I’m sure he’d love to help me out.”

  His younger brother had also won the genetic lottery that seemed to come with their famous last name. And while he wasn’t as successful as older bro, Eric, he’d landed a role on a Netflix drama and was enjoying steady work and rising stardom. And while I’m sure Dave was happy for his younger sibling, I assumed there was some rivalry there. Or at least, that was what I was counting on.

  A manly rumble vibrated up his throat and his eyes smoldered. The combination making him even sexier than his already good looks seemed to achieve. I totally got Katrina’s fascination with him. “Low blow, Jess. But I’m sort of impressed.”

  Oh thank God, because I was positive Nick would have turned me down flat. While it was true that he had break in his film schedule coming up, it would have taken some fancy talking and a sacrificial virgin to get him to agree to more work after filming six months in a row. I’d be surprised if he didn’t already have some vacation lined up in Cancun or Hawaii, maybe even both because why the hell not.

  “So, does that mean you are considering it?” I tested the water, not wanting to seem too confident in that he’d agree.

  He leaned back, getting comfortable in his seat, the hesitation seeming to be gone as he smirked. “Sure, I’m considering it. But it will cost you.”

  Reaching across the table and kissing him in thanks seemed over the top, but I was so relieved I had to stop myself from leaping into his lap. Plus, that wouldn’t help sell this as a business proposition.

  No, we were keeping this professional, remember?

  Instead, I laid out what I felt was fair and hoped he didn’t think I was a cheap bastard. “Five grand, plus your flight, your own hotel room, per diem and any additional expenses. I’ll even buy you a new suit if you want.”

  Hell, if I thought it would help, I’d offer to buy him a plane ticket to join Nick on his Cancun/Hawaii extravaganza right after. Hookers and blow? Sure, whatever.

  “Wow, I wasn’t talking money. And thanks, but I think I can cover my own suit.” He winked, intriguing me even more.

  “Then what? I don’t expect you to do this for free, this is a job like any other.” And while I was happy for him to say yes out of the goodness of his heart, this was a strict business transaction and I didn’t like owing favors.

  He rolled his eyes, his grin remaining. “Fine, we’ll agree to five grand. But we can share a room. It will not only keep up the charade, but save the unnecessary cost in expenses.”

  I laughed, thinking it was sweet that he was concerned about my budget. And while I wasn’t a big dog getting around town in a Bentley, I wasn’t doing too badly either. “I can afford two rooms, Dave.”

  “Are you listening to my terms or you going to argue?” His brow rose, daring me to object.

  “Fine, go on.”

  He nodded, appeased as he continued. “You’re not paying me per diem or fucking expenses. That’s ridiculous.”

  I shook my head, ready with my rebuttal. “If you were on a shoot—”

  He cut me off. “If I was on an indie film I’d be lucky to make five hundred dollars a day and get a room at a Motel 6. And wasn’t it you who sold this as a small budget, independent production? So save the money and the argument.”

  “Okay, whatever, we can haggle later.” I waved him off knowing the battle I needed to win wasn’t a salary negotiation but him agreeing to do it in the first place. “So, what’s it going to cost, if money isn’t what we are talking about?”

  “Tit for tat.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m going to be your boyfriend, wow your family with how amazing I am and how wonderful our relationship is. Then I’m going to go along with whatever fate you decide that ends us. But when this is over, you are going to be my date to the opening of Jimmy Ferrara’s exhibition.”

  Hold the freaking phone.

  Jimmy Ferrara was a modern day Picasso who had been wowing both critics and regular folk since being discovered in New York two years ago. Plucked from obscurity by gallery owner Eve Thorton, his pieces were hitting the market in the hundreds of thousands. And while his messes on canvases weren’t my particular brand of vodka, I had to hand it to the guy—he knew how to market himself. Which was why the first two months of his exhibition at the Hans Weckman gallery sold out within minutes of going on sale. And to be clear, even I—the master of acquisitions—had only managed to secure two tickets to the opening.

  Jeremy’s lovely wife had been desperate to go and he was only too happy to take her. After all, it was more a status thing to be at the excusive party hardly anyone could get into to. To laugh, drink, laugh, and compare penises—whatever men tended to do in business settings masquerading as social gatherings. I hadn’t even been able to get a ticket for myself.

  “You have tickets to the opening of Jimmy Ferrara’s exhibition?” I didn’t even try to hide my surprise. “I didn’t take you as an art fan.”

  Or to have those kinds of connections.

  “I’m not a fan of his art. He’s a hack who fried his brain with too much heroine in the 80’s and somehow survived. His shit is overpriced and ugly. But I also know the Big Three are going to be there and face time in a relaxed setting with three of the biggest directors in Hollywood is not something easy to pass up. But if I go by myself, it looks like I’m there to do business. I need a woman to help keep up with the charade while I’m there pretending to look at the shit on the wall. And I’m not the kind of guy to take a date and ignore her the whole night while I try to make conversation with other people. Which is why I’m going to take you.”

  “You still haven’t told me how you got a ticket.”

  A devilish grin twisted on his lips. “And, I’m not going to. So, we have a deal or not?”

  “Fine, I’ll come with you to the exhibition.” Not a hardship since I’d been curious to go anyway. “I’ll do enough staring at the art for both of us. And I’ll be perfectly fine entertaining myself while you network.
”

  “Good. I knew you would.” He seemed satisfied even though I was clearly getting more out of our arrangement than he was. Still, I wasn’t about to argue the point.

  I met his eyes, wanting verbal and binding confirmation that he was agreeing. “So, do we have a deal? Are you actually going to do this?”

  “Looks like you got yourself a boyfriend.” He smirked. “When you said filming starts in a month, I assume you meant that’s when the wedding is.”

  My fingers fumbled into my handbag and pulled out the invite. “Ummm, yes. It’s three weeks from Saturday.”

  “Right, so that gives us some time to work on our backstory, how we met, what we like to do together, favorite sexual position—stuff like that.”

  “My family isn’t going to ask what our favorite sexual position is. And if they did lose their damn minds and ask, they’d have to torture me before I’d answer.”

  He shook his head, waving his finger at me as his grin widened. “Uh-uh, Jess, if we do this, then we do this. You don’t get to pick and choose what you think is important. You aren’t embarrassed are you?” The last part seemed to please him.

  “No, of course I’m not embarrassed.” I lowered my voice, looking around at the mostly empty coffee shop.

  I liked sex. No, like wasn’t strong enough a word. I loved sex. But talking about it with someone you barely knew was weird, wasn’t it? And there’d be a cold day in Hell before I’d talk about it with my parents. “I just don’t see why we would discuss my sex life with anyone.”

  He watched me silently for a minute before reaching across the table, his fingers slowly caressing mine. My eyes widened as I watched the erotic glide of his thumb across my knuckles, making me swallow hard.

  I couldn’t remember the last time we’d touched. Probably a handshake? Definitely not more than that, and it had never been like this.

  His hand barely grazed mine but was surprisingly sexual. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” His voice rumbled. “And if we’re going to sell us as a couple, you can’t get weird on me when I ask a question like that or when I touch you.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  I didn’t doubt for a minute he didn’t know what he was doing and it had nothing to do with his acting experience.

  “Of course. I won’t get weird.” I made promises I had no idea if I was going to be able to keep. “I will be totally cool with touching and questions.”

  Especially the touching.

  You are not going to have sex with him, I reminded myself.

  Not that I was tempted. Please. I didn’t sleep with clients. And even though he was gorgeous and pretending to be my love interest, I knew I was paying him to be with me. There was a line, and I was positive I wouldn’t cross it.

  At least I was mostly positive I wouldn’t.

  No, I was sure. Positive, positive.

  Do not cross the line, Jessica.

  “There’s one other thing,” I added, wanting to get the important stuff out while I could still think straight. I pulled my hand back from his, saving it from any further finger seduction he had planned. “And this is sort of awkward to bring up, but I need you not to mention anything to Jeremy.”

  It sort of went without saying that what I was doing wouldn’t exactly be kosher with my boss. I’m not sure he’d go so far as to fire me, but he would definitely not be pleased. Not to mention how bad it would look to other clients.

  “Actually, our little agreement needs to stay confidential. You can’t tell your brothers either.” Because let’s face it, who knew if one of them would spill and foil my plan.

  He shook his head, shooting me a grin. “No one will know. I’ll be your dirty little secret.”

  Those words thrilled me more than they should have.

  Not sure why I did, but I trusted him, which was ridiculous because I didn’t really know him. Sure, I’d seen him in the office plenty, had many conversations with him and could probably recite his height, weight and most of his resume off the top of my head. But all the stuff I knew about the man he was underneath it all had been garnered incidentally. So I wasn’t sure if it was accurate.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” I heard myself asking. Probably something I should have asked before agreeing to share a hotel room with him. Still, if we were going to have to deal with a jealous significant other, it was best I knew now.

  His eyebrow rose like he was surprised I asked. “Are you concerned or you just making conversation?”

  To be honest, I wasn’t sure.

  Not that it mattered, either way it wasn’t my problem.

  I shrugged, relaxing a little. “A little of both. Besides, if you expect me to answer which sexual position is my favorite, I think me asking if you are in a relationship would be an easy one for you.”

  “I was on a date tonight actually,” he said with no hesitation. “Not a girlfriend. Just a date. It’s not serious or exclusive,” he answered with little emotion.

  Well, I guess I should have been thankful it was a date and not a killing spree that had kept him detained. And whoever she was, she obviously hadn’t been important, or very compelling, because he’d left her to come meet me. I’d hope that after a date with me, a man wouldn’t run off to meet another woman. Except, I wasn’t another woman, I was a job opportunity. Which made this ok, and me not a harlot trying to steal her man.

  Blink. My brain was hurting.

  I was really over thinking it.

  I waited.

  Waited for him to ask me the same question, but he didn’t.

  Instead I stared at him with expectation, trying to will the words from my mind to his.

  “Something else you want to ask?” He looked at me with curiosity, missing the telepathic messages I’d been sending him, but unable to ignore the crazy eyes.

  Not sure why it made me feel awkward, but it did. I was good with someone yelling at me or being able to achieve the impossible at work, but put me into a personal situation and I’d suddenly became an idiot. “I just thought you might want ask me the same thing.”

  He chuckled softly, his body leaning forward across the table as he whispered. “I sort of assumed you needing me meant that you weren’t in a relationship.”

  Shit.

  Of course.

  I knew that.

  “Yes, yes,” I fumbled, stupidity seeming to be a theme I was keeping. “I’m single. No man. Which is why I need you.” I took a breath, looking at him with apology. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m acting this way.”

  I wasn’t sure where to lay the blame. If it was my mouth, my mind, or if the two of them were conspiring against me. But my lack of confidence was of serious concern, especially if we were going to convince my family we were more than passing acquaintances.

  “I’m not a psychologist nor do I pretend to know how women think.” He chuckled again as his eyes caught mine. “But if I had to guess it is because this is out of your comfort zone. Which is cool, we can work on it together.”

  I didn’t care what Jeremy said. Dave Larsson was most definitely my favorite.

  “You are so sweet.” I took his hand—the same one that had given me goosebumps when it rubbed my fingers unintentionally erotically—and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you so much for understanding.”

  “Stop thanking me.” He squeezed back as a gentle laugh traveled up his throat. “You still owe me my date. And I’m probably going to ignore you and be a general asshole.”

  It was my turn to chuckle, the idea that Dave thought his intention to mingle with important people and network would be seen as being an asshole was hilarious. “You can be as asshole-ish as you like,” I grinned, “I’ll be using you just to get in anyway.”

  Dave’s beautiful chocolate eyes filled with wonder as the smile spread across his face. “Oh, we’re perfect for each other.”

  Lord help me, I had to agree.

  Professionally, I meant.

  As co-stars.

  Right?
r />   Right.

  WHAT SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED LAST night was a quick meeting.

  Like a bandit, get in, get out, and hope no one got hurt.

  Because there were only two possible outcomes. Either he would agree, or tell me I was insane—neither required more than an hour. Less time if you didn’t wait for the men in white coats to come and take me away.

  I hadn’t anticipated conversation.

  I dropped the hey-can-you-pretend-to-be-my-boyfriend bomb in his lap, and he didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he ordered an espresso and chatted like it wasn’t the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

  For. Two. Whole. Hours.

  Even if I was subpoenaed and testifying under oath, I’d still be unable to recall the conversation. Maybe excessive caffeine made you stupid—not likely—or his voice had the ability to lull me into a relaxed trance. Either way it only meant bad news, my mouth spilling shit I hadn’t wanted to say.

  Thank God I’d never been trusted with matters of national security, who knew what me and my mouth were capable of.

  It had been a while since I’d been out with a guy and it wasn’t a work meeting or a date. They’d kind of become one in the same really, the initial dates feeling more like job interviews. Trying to work out whether or not he was suitable for a fulltime position. And half the time, they were more candidates for a casual basis.

  Like hiring staff for the holidays, my dating life was more seasonal than long term.

  And I was totally fine with that.

  But with Dave there was no need for the interview. It was like having a new friend and we were in on the same private joke. Which was why I hadn’t wanted to leave even though I had to get up early.

  I felt weirdly hung over, intoxicated only by the conversation.

  Oh, and I hadn’t called back my mother.

  Her missed calls and not so subtle Call Me text taunted me from behind the screen. She could only be avoided for so long.