by T. K. Leigh
I raise my glass, taking a sip of the full-bodied red, allowing it to warm my stomach. It’s robust with a hint of spice, the perfect pairing for the filet mignon I ordered. If Julian’s treating me to dinner, I may as well take advantage and go for the gold.
“What I want Trevor to think and what he actually does are two different things. Yes, he was jealous when he intercepted the flowers you sent. However, as I pointed out during our conversation, he did accuse me of only dating you to make him jealous. So, regardless of what I agree to, that will always be in the back of his mind. That we’re only together for a juvenile purpose.”
“Juvenile?”
“Yes. Juvenile.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. My expression remains amorous, as if I’m murmuring my deepest desires to this intriguing man. “Even you must admit it’s something you’d do in high school. Your smart, studious, perfect boyfriend breaks up with you, so you get back at him by dating the school flirt. The one who seems to go through women like toilet paper. The one who could get any girl he wants, but he somehow decides to clean up his act with the theater geek. I’ve already seen that movie. Hell, I lived that movie in high school. I’m not sure I’m interested in a sequel.”
Julian’s gaze remains resolute, unaffected by my outburst. When he brings his hands in front of his face, he tents them, his fingers brushing against his lips in quiet contemplation.
“Then perhaps we should forget about my original proposal altogether.”
My mouth grows slack as I cock my head at him. “Forget about it?”
I’m not sure what my end game was, but I didn’t expect him to call it quits before our meals even arrived. And I was really looking forward to that steak. Did I overplay my hand? I wish Chloe and Nora were here to tell me what to do.
I’ve spent the past five years dishing out relationship advice, but I never took any of it seriously. It was more a comedic outlet for my writing, a way for me to poke fun at how crazy and stressful dating could be. No one would think I’d actually advocate starting a collection of your date’s toenail trimmings and present it to them on your first anniversary. At least I hope they wouldn’t.
“Yes, Guinevere. No matter what I say or do, I fear I’ll never be able to convince you this idea is anything but juvenile. And maybe it is. I simply saw it as a way to solve both our problems. I was already on the lookout for someone who might be interested in posing as my girlfriend. When I heard you share your troubles that night at the bar, I thought you’d be perfect. And I still think you’d be perfect for what I need.”
I worry my bottom lip, absorbing his words. “Why me?”
“Why not you?”
“I can list a thousand reasons. I’m sure there are plenty of women who would gladly agree to pretend to be your girlfriend. Hell, you might even get laid, which one would argue would be a nice bonus. You won’t get that with me.”
He leans closer, gazing thoughtfully at me with his penetrating blue eyes. It almost feels like he’s able to peer into my soul.
“Did you ever stop to think that’s exactly why I asked you?”
“Because I won’t sleep with you?” I push out a laugh, then sip my wine. “Most men would probably expect sex from this kind of arrangement. Unless, of course, they were gay…” My breath hitches, wide eyes darting to Julian. “Oh, my god!” I whisper-shout, glancing around the restaurant, ensuring no one’s paying attention. Apart from Trevor’s occasional wandering gaze, no one seems to care about our conversation. “You’re gay, aren’t you? You need me to pretend to date you to keep your sexual orientation a secret so some conservative politician will back whatever project you’re working on. That’s why you didn’t take advantage of me when I was drunk and in your bed.”
He chuckles, his expression brightening with amusement. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but I’ve yet to be accused of being gay.”
“It’s okay if you are. There’s nothing wrong with it. No one cares these days, especially in New York. Are you from a religious family? Is that why—”
“I am not gay. That’s not why I’m looking for someone to pose as my girlfriend. And that’s not why I didn’t take advantage of you. I didn’t take advantage of you because I’m not an asshole. I don’t take advantage of women. Period.” His voice is determined, his eyes steadfast.
At that moment, the waiter approaches with our meals, cutting through the tension. The aroma of garlic and meat invades my senses as my mouth waters from the beautifully prepared steak in front of me. I pick up my knife and slice into it, meeting Julian’s eyes as he cuts into his lamb, the meat falling off the bone.
“Bon appetite,” he says in a perfect French accent, which piques my curiosity, but not enough to press him about it. Not with my steak inches from my mouth.
I take a bite, moaning at the buttery flavor of the impeccably prepared filet.
“You really know how to tease a man, don’t you?”
“Why? Am I teasing you?” I bat my lashes, thankful for the flirtatious atmosphere between us once more.
“You have no fucking idea.”
The tone of his voice hits me deep in my core. As much as I want to tear my eyes from his, I’m unable to, the tension cracking and sizzling. Why don’t I remember it being like this with Trevor?
“So…” I clear my throat, my brain finally communicating with the rest of my body to look away from Julian before I throw myself at him without a single regard for the fact we’re in public. “Getting back to why we’re here.”
“Yes?”
“Why me? Especially considering you know I’m not exactly over my ex.”
“That’s one of the reasons,” Julian answers nonchalantly. “Less drama. Less headache. I get the pleasure of the company of a woman who’s familiar with what it takes to be in a committed relationship and will be able to sell the idea that we’re in one. And I won’t have to worry about you wanting more than I’m willing to give.”
“This begs the question of why you need to pretend to be in a committed relationship. Why aren’t you in one? You’re not one of those guys who thinks it’s his civic duty to screw as many women as possible, yet refuses to commit to anyone, are you?”
“Certainly not,” he answers with a chuckle. “I’m just not interested in a relationship.”
“At all?” I arch a brow. It reminds me of Chloe’s take on relationships. Maybe I should suggest they get together since it seems he has more in common with her. “Life is full of relationships,” I continue, pushing down the jealousy bubbling at the idea of Chloe and Julian hooking up, “even if they’re not the intimate type. You appear to be rather successful in whatever it is you do. You don’t get there unless you build business relationships.”
“That’s different. We leave all emotions out of things to get the job done. It’s not personal.”
“So you’re just not interested in a relationship that requires you to get too personal.”
His expression pensive, he considers my statement for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I suppose that’s correct.” He brings his fork to his mouth, taking another bite of his lamb.
“May I ask why?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
I sigh, lifting my glass. “Then I suppose you’ll have to find someone else to be your fake girlfriend.”
His gaze turns steely, his jaw tightening. I’ve hit a nerve. “Suffice it to say, I don’t buy into the requirement that in order to be happy, you have to be in a relationship with someone. Some people aren’t cut out for that.”
“And you think you’re one of them?” My voice is timid as I press on. The more I do, the greater the chance he’ll walk away.
“I know I am. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
Silence falls between us, awkward and stiff. It’s the most distant I’ve felt around him since we met. In an attempt to ignore it, I push my food around my plate, my appetite disappearing.
“As far as the other reason…”
When I hear him speak again, I lift my eyes to meet his. “Pardon?”
“I said one of the reasons you’re perfect for this is that I don’t have to worry about you falling for me. But there’s more.”
“And what’s that?” My heart drums in my chest, his tone a stark contrast to the anger with which he spoke mere seconds earlier. I marvel at his ability to flip the switch so quickly.
With extreme grace, he swirls his wine before bringing it to his mouth. My eyes instantly focus on his lips. I’m mesmerized by everything this man does. I should find comfort in the fact nothing will ever happen between us. Hell, these were my conditions, after all. Regardless, a twinge of disappointment settles in my heart at never knowing him on a more intimate level.
“There was something in your voice as you informed the entire bar of your breakup. I can’t quite explain it. After twelve years, you’d think there would be anger, sadness, disappointment. But there was something else instead.”
“Sarcasm?” I offer, recalling the bitterness that prompted me to share my heartache with complete strangers. I’m sure the alcohol didn’t hurt in that regard, either. No need to give me a truth serum. Give me a shot of tequila and I’d tell you the location of Jimmy Hoffa…if I knew it.
“That’s not it.” He shakes his head. “I heard hope.”
“Hope?”
“Yes. And determination. Your ability to find humor about what could only be described as one of the most heartbreaking events of your life shows your strength of character. You didn’t go home, watch When Harry Met Sally, and gorge on Ben & Jerry’s.”
I scoff, “Not by choice.”
He studies me for a moment before speaking again. “I think it was. I may not know you as well as Chloe or Nora, but I’ve picked up on a few things. One of those is you only do what you want. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, you wouldn’t be here.”
I lower my eyes, not wanting to acknowledge his statement bears a hint of truth. Two days ago, I never would have expected to be sitting here with him in this restaurant while Trevor looms a few tables away. Now I’ve barely thought of Trevor, all my focus on Julian. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.
“Have I answered all your questions?” Julian asks when I remain silent. “Is there anything else you need to know before you agree to my proposal?”
Lifting my head, I do my best to appear collected, as if he hadn’t weaseled his way under my skin throughout the evening by simply being honest and upfront with me. It’s more than I can say for Trevor as of late.
“If I agree, I don’t want you to think it’s an open invitation to make out with me whenever it suits you.
“I’ll be escorting you to fundraisers, charity dinners, galas, things like that. Not to a sex club.”
“Well, that’s a shame. I’ll need to return my flogger and ball gag.”
After momentarily scrutinizing me, Julian breaks into a hearty laugh, attracting the attention of a few of our fellow diners, Trevor included. There’s a hint of jealousy mixed with longing in his gaze. It makes me feel somewhat vindicated. A frazzled aura surrounds him, like he’s having trouble focusing on whatever Theresa’s saying because I’m sitting a few tables away with a very handsome, successful man. Then, not paying attention, he knocks his wine glass over, the red liquid spilling all over Theresa’s white blouse. Waiters rush to help clean up the mess, but the damage is already done.
I turn my eyes back to Julian, struggling to reel in my smile. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone.
“In all seriousness, I promise not to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
“Even if I say no kissing?”
He blinks repeatedly, taken aback. “No kissing?”
“Yes. At least on the mouth. I’m agreeable to a kiss on the cheek or forehead, but I’d rather we draw the line there.”
He recovers his composure. “Any reason for that?”
“It’s too…personal.” I fidget with my napkin in my lap, the soft texture comforting. “It seems I’m not built like you. I do get attached to people. As long as we have the line drawn at no kissing, I won’t forget what this is…a business arrangement.”
“Okay.” He nods curtly after a moment of contemplation. “You have my word. No kissing on the lips.”
“Really?” I cock my head.
“You sound surprised. Why wouldn’t I agree?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Won’t people think there’s something amiss if they don’t see us kiss?”
“Trust me, Guinevere.” His voice is smooth and confident. “There are other ways to demonstrate your desire. Kissing is the easy way out. There’s nothing suggestive about one mouth pressing against the other. No. Desire is in the way your bodies find each other, the way your eyes darken with unmatched hunger, the way a shiver runs through you at the promise of what’s to come.”
I swallow hard, doing my best to make it appear as if I’m not slowly losing my composure at his sensual words, to pretend I don’t already react that way whenever I’m in his presence. “Says the man who avoids committed relationships.”
“I never said I was perfect.” He dabs his napkin against his mouth, making me incredibly jealous of a piece of fabric. “So no sex, no kissing. What are your other conditions?”
“Right.” I square my shoulders. “An itinerary.”
“An itinerary?”
“Yes. I don’t like the unexpected. I’ve been a bit of a planner my entire life. Hell, I’d already planned my wedding to Trevor before we even met.” I laugh under my breath. “I tweaked a few things once we did meet, but that’s beside the point.” I return my gaze to Julian. “I like having a plan, knowing what’s expected of me so I can anticipate…things.”
“Things?”
“Yes. I’d like to know precisely the type of event and when I’ll be required to be…at your service.”
“You’ll never be ‘at my service’, Guinevere,” he responds quickly. “But if a list of events makes you less on edge, I’m happy to provide one. I understand your job is important to you, so I’ll limit the events to weekends and holidays. I just ask you set aside Fridays through Sundays.”
“We have our weekly staff meeting Friday mornings.”
“Then you’ll leave right after. Is that agreeable?”
“Yes. That’s fine. Viv is flexible with us working out of the office.”
“Any other conditions?”
I chew on my lower lip, recalling the list I’d come up with earlier in the evening. “A firm end date.”
He nods. “No sense dragging this out longer than necessary. Come Labor Day, you’re free to return to your normal life. Anything else?”
“No.” Those were my non-negotiable conditions. I thought he’d put up more of a fight over no sex or kissing. I guess I was wrong.
“Okay then. Agreed on all points. Now I have a few conditions of my own.”
“Such as?”
“First, you’ll be staying in my beach house with me.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry. You’ll have your own room and space. Anytime we’re not scheduled to be somewhere, you can do whatever you’d like. You won’t need to spend extra time with me. You can sit by the pool, go to the beach, whatever you like. Your free time is just that…yours.”
“And your other conditions?”
“It’s more of a…request.”
I arch a brow. “And that is?”
“I’d appreciate your word that you’ll commit to me for the duration of the summer and not end this arrangement early. I need a woman by my side for all the social events that fill the summer season in the Hamptons. So in the event Trevor has a change of heart and wants you back, I’d request you hold him off until the end of summer. After that, we walk away and never have to see each other again. By then, I’m hoping this project will be underway. I’ll make up a story about how you’re still in love with your ex, which isn’t a stretch, and we’ll go our separate ways.
I stare into space, considering his proposition. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Trevor. Instead of the frantic energy that surrounded him before, he’s calm, he and Theresa seeming to laugh off the mishap. He brings her hand up to his mouth, peppering soft kisses against it. I don’t remember the last time he looked at me that way.
Resolute, I return my attention to Julian. What do I have to lose? Trevor’s already moved on. Why should I torture myself by waiting for him to come to his senses? After twelve years, maybe I deserve to have some fun myself. A summer in the Hamptons at what I can only imagine to be a luxurious beach house may be exactly what the doctor ordered to mend my broken heart. What could possibly go wrong?
“Yes, Julian. I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Do I want to know whether tonight was just a coincidence?” I ask once we’re in the back seat of the town car and on the way to Chloe’s apartment.
“Whatever do you mean, Guinevere?” Julian flashes a conniving smile.
I blow out a breath, crossing my arms. “You know exactly what I mean, Julian. Trevor showing up at the same restaurant we happened to be dining at is a bit suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?”
“New York’s not as big as people think.”
Not saying a word, I narrow my gaze at him like my mother always did when she knew I was being purposely evasive.
“And what would you say if I did plan it?”
“First, I’d say you have impeccable stalker abilities. Perhaps that’s your true calling.”
He curves his body toward me, grinning deviously. “Who said it’s not? You did figure out I have a secret kill room in Jersey City. You don’t lure people to a kill room without properly doing your research…or, as you referred to it, stalking.” He winks before leaning back against the seat.
“That’s right. How could I forget about the kill room? Okay then, Dexter…”
