An image of Tina’s angry face swam into his mind.
Damn it. He couldn’t kiss Magee under these conditions. No way. No how. No chance.
He needed air—and a guilt-free conscience.
Susannah’s movements within the apartment foyer provided the ideal cop-out: would she interrupt them?
Magee must have shared his concern, because they glanced at the door in tandem.
“On second thought, let’s save the kiss for later,” Justin said. He held his breath while she nodded.
She descended the staircase ahead of him, out of earshot.
“Much later,” he mumbled. Like after she’d taken a shower.
~*~
Magee rubbed the stem of her wineglass and slipped a wobbly smile to the middle-aged couple sending her strange looks from the table nearest hers and Justin’s. As their practice date progressed, it grew more and more apparent that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Not one stinking soul.
Not the lanky guy in valet parking who’d sneezed several times while helping her out of Justin’s sleek, black sports car.
Not the headwaiter who’d seated them as far from the other diners as possible, on the portion of the terrace restaurant bordering Beach Avenue.
Not the tittering party of four sitting downwind from them in the warm, mid-July ocean breeze fluttering off English Bay.
And definitely not Justin.
Magee had to face the facts. She reeked. She knew it, and so did every other patron within a three-table radius at The Dock.
Despite her attempts to banish the Possessed from her body—at home and then again in the restaurant washroom upon their arrival—the heavy perfume lingered. It was like the musky fragrance had saturated her every pore and now discharged at regular intervals like a time-released migraine capsule.
At least Justin had spared her the embarrassment of telling her she smelled. However, she’d noticed him brushing his nose as they’d walked into the restaurant. And, in the car on the drive over, only a deaf person would have missed the pinched-nostril tone to his voice indicating he’d breathed through his mouth. He hadn’t been as crafty as he’d probably thought when he’d changed his mind about their practice kiss outside her apartment door, either.
No, she knew the truth. He would have suffocated had he kissed her. He might have collapsed on the spot!
She had to muster serious damage control if she wanted to maintain Justin’s faith in her ability to handle the weekend. She needed resolve. Steely-eyed determination. Fake it until you make it.
Therein lay the secret to her success.
Halfway through their meals of grilled Pacific salmon, she set down her fork and raised her wine-glass in a toast. “Here’s to this weekend, Justin. To Willoughby Bikes and CycleMania. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to ensure the path to signing the deal runs smoothly.”
Justin smiled. Lifting his glass, he responded, “To our little charade…”
“To us…”
“To you—my newfound Tina. I can’t thank you enough, Magee. I’d be up to my ass in concrete if you hadn’t agreed to help me.”
Magee maintained her composed facade. It wasn’t like she’d had much choice. As he’d pointed out at lunch, her father’s company would also benefit from the deal.
And, oh boy, did Sinclair Advertising need the revenue.
Justin sipped his pinot gris. “Speaking of the charade, I’m worried about confusing names in front of Nathan. I should start calling you Tina tonight.”
Magee’s wineglass knocked her teeth. “You want to call me Tina?” Had she missed something?
Nodding, he divided his remaining salmon into serviceable mouthfuls. “You’ll have to use her name when we’re with the Willoughbys,” he said as he swabbed a forkful in dill sauce. “It can’t hurt to get used to doing so now.” He ate the fish.
Apparently, she’d been napping in class. “Did you mention this at lunch?” She set down her wine.
“What do you mean, did I mention it? The reason we’re together tonight is because you agreed to stand in for Tina.”
His tone conveyed his meaning well—he possessed zero personal interest in her. If not for this weekend with the Willoughbys, Justin Kane wouldn’t grant her a second glance.
Her chest pinched, and she cleared her throat. So she wasn’t Justin’s type. No biggie. She didn’t want a relationship right now, anyway. She’d had it with men and their games.
“I understand I’m playing your girlfriend,” she replied calmly. “Is it really necessary to use a fake name? I’m sorry, I didn’t get that from what you said at lunch.”
“I said I needed a replacement for Tina.”
“Yes, but I didn’t realize you meant I had to pretend to be Tina. I thought you needed a generic stand-in lover, not a specific name brand.”
His gaze narrowed. “You’re backing out?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” And risk losing his account? Not a chance. Besides, she’d already agreed to help him, and she wasn’t in the habit of breaking her word.
His forehead smoothed. “Look, I’m no expert at lying, but Nathan knows Tina’s name. He expects to meet Tina Johnston—no one else. Well, and me, of course.”
Magee smiled. She’d rarely witnessed Justin Kane’s sense of humor in action. That he could make light of the situation relieved her misgivings a tad.
“Aw, honey, do you know what this means?” In her best imitation of a love-struck love bunny, she batted her eyelashes. “We just had our first fight.”
Justin chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong…Tina. We don’t disagree often, but when we do—”
“Ka-boom?”
“In a million pieces.”
“Like today?”
“Pretty much. Except usually we’re sweating the small stuff. Usually something I can pick up on, and too often something I’ve done wrong, according to Tina. But the breakup this morning came out of nowhere. She blindsided me.” He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows hoisting in the same flabbergasted expression Magee had seen on Brent Doyle when she’d caught the worm three-timing her on New Year’s Eve.
An eerie sense of déjà vu crawled over her. Neglecting her half-eaten meal, she reached for her wine. “Let me see if I have this straight. She broke up with you.”
Justin nodded.
“Would you mind explaining why? Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but if I’m supposed to be Tina—”
“What does one thing have to do with the other? I don’t want you to approach this weekend from the standpoint that you’re ticked off at me. The idea is to portray a happy couple, to project an image of stability.”
“It would still help me to understand her reasons for the breakup. Everyone has their sore spots, Justin. I don’t want to scrape yours by saying or doing something wrong. The more I know about Tina, the more I can prevent that from happening.”
“Okay.” His face fell into the hangdog lines of a man who felt guilty but didn’t think he should. “Tina wants to get married, and I don’t.”
Magee’s mind spun. Wow. If Tina had blindsided him with that understandable and not uncommon goal, then either Justin Kane and Tina Johnston had shared the lousiest communication skills in history—or Justin was a commitment-phobe like Brent.
“Do you love her?” she asked.
“No. For what it’s worth, I don’t think she loves me.”
“You don’t think? Don’t you know?”
“The subject never came up.”
“I see.” Magee resumed eating. The flaky salmon tasted like foam packing peanuts in her mouth. “How long were you dating?”
“It would have been six months this weekend.”
Plenty of time for any sane person to fall in love. But Magee zipped her lips. A smart account executive wouldn’t jeopardize her client relationship by telling Justin that if she were the Queen of Eng-land she’d confer him a snakehood.
And she had to spend the next three days pretending to be the guy’s
lover?
She downed her wine. A moment later, the waiter materialized and topped up Justin’s glass first.
Magee ground her teeth. A fiendish urge to trial-run her new identity whipped out of nowhere and pummeled the wiser option to remain silent.
“I’m Tina Johnston,” she informed the waiter as the young man took her empty glass and poured. “I want to get married, but my boyfriend won’t have it.” She flicked her hand toward Justin.
The waiter’s gaze ping-ponged between them. “Uh, congratulations?”
Justin let loose a belly laugh.
Magee glared at him. This wasn’t funny!
The waiter’s hands shook as he lowered Magee’s glass. He must have inhaled a massive whiff of Possessed, because his lips screwed together as if he held his breath.
Face burning, she reached for the stem of her glass. Their hands collided. The glass tipped. Pinot gris sailed over her plate and splashed her dress.
Magee shrieked as the chilled wine plastered the silk to her breasts. Nipples puckering, she gaped at Justin. Why now, God? Why, why?
She wanted to melt into the chair and die.
Their practice date had disintegrated into the date from hell.
Read More About HEAD OVER HEELS at http:www.cindyprocter-king.com
Deceiving Derek Page 6
