Mr. Man Candy: A Fake Boyfriend Romance

by Alessandra Hart

  I gathered up the sashes and veil and stuffed them at the bottom of the suitcase I planned on taking to Saint Clare. When I arrived on the island in two weeks, I was going to burn them and throw the ashes in the ocean, three thousand miles away from my home and my life here. That seemed like it might help me in a symbolic way. I'd be leaving my old troubles behind, as far away as possible. Hopefully then I could embrace the future with open arms and stop this silly moping around.

  My phone pinged. It was Nate again. I’ve got a few ideas for the fake date already. It’ll help with our backstory :) I’ll text you the details later when I’ve got a solid plan, okay?

  This time I didn’t feel so bad when he said ‘fake date’. Sure, whatever was happening between us wasn’t real, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun along the way, right? As long as Nate and I played it carefully and stuck to our stories, we could have a great time on the islands, and this could be a truly memorable vacation.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  5

  Nate

  “Holy crap. You live here?”

  Georgie stared up at my house from beside her silver car, eyes wide and hands firmly planted on her hips.

  I nodded. “Bought it a couple of years ago.”

  I still remembered how great it felt to nab a place like this outright. Set on a hill in Del Mar Heights, my uniquely-angled house boasted ocean views from nearly every window, five bedrooms, a spacious office, and an outside deck overlooking the gorgeous verdant scenery of Torrey Pines Reserve. It all backed onto sandstone cliffs on the edge of the reserve for unparalleled privacy. It was my absolute dream home.

  “I could fit my house in here ten times over!” Georgie said, still marveling at the place. “Maybe you should sell. Then you wouldn’t be so broke.”

  I chuckled. She never held anything back, did she? “If it ever comes to that, then yeah, I will.”

  Georgie removed her hands from her hips and jerked her thumb in the direction of her car’s back seat. “So I’ve got all the stuff you told me to bring. Why exactly did I need several changes of clothes for this pretend date of ours? Are we going to be running through mud or something? And why did I have to meet you here?”

  I grinned. “So many questions. I’ll tell you when we get inside.”

  “Not even going to help me with the bags? Some fake boyfriend you are.” Georgie stuck her tongue out at me. The way her eyes crinkled around the edges when she smiled made my knees slightly weak.

  “Of course I’ll help, pumpkin.” I winked at her as she opened the car door, enjoying the way she rolled her eyes at me when I called her the annoying nickname. “Okay,” I went on as I hauled her bags up the steps toward my front door. “Here’s the plan. You want to sell this boyfriend thing to your family, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “I thought we could go on a few mini-dates in different outfits. Then we can take a few photos of each one on our phones and pretend they were taken over time on different occasions.”

  I paused to take a breath, and Georgie nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “That way while we’re at this wedding thing of yours, if anyone gets even remotely suspicious that we aren’t together, I can say something like, ‘honey, remember that amazing picture I took of you on my deck the other week?’ and show them a picture of you in outfit A. That proves you’ve been to my house and spent quality time at it. Or you can bring up the amazing picnic I allegedly took you on and show them a photo from your camera roll of you lying on a blanket in the park wearing outfit B. And so on.”

  Georgie raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Good idea. You’ve really thought this through.” She grinned cheekily. “Working overtime for that money, huh?”

  I chuckled. “Sure. I’m actually a bit disappointed that you didn’t think of it. You’re meant to be a creative director, and this whole thing was your plan,” I teased.

  She laughed too. “I know. I dropped the ball, didn’t I?” she said. “Guess I’ve been caught up with other stuff. But yeah, let’s do it. Where to first?”

  “Well, firstly, I thought we could have a coffee here. Talk about a few details. Our backstory, any facts or information we need to know about each other in case anyone asks. And I can take that deck photo of you while you drink the coffee outside.”

  “Sure!”

  Once we were inside, I dropped Georgie’s clothing bags by the big grey L-shaped sofa in the main living room. Then I set about making her a coffee in the adjoining kitchen. While I did that, she slowly walked around the living room, taking in the interior decorations and the view from the picture window.

  I watched her. My gaze traveled up her white and blue china-patterned dress, past her tanned arms and smooth neck, and up to her pretty-as-a-picture face, framed by thick light brown hair which had just enough curl to make me want to reach out and bounce the strands in my hand. She really was a stunner. I couldn’t imagine why she’d resorted to paying men to date her. Any red-blooded male would gladly do it for free.

  Maybe she had a bad side. Maybe she was insanely jealous. Or liked setting things on fire.

  She seemed totally normal so far, though. We’d briefly texted back and forth over the last couple of days to establish the most basic facts about each other: exact age, where we lived, where we grew up, and so on. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about her yet. She hadn’t been raised by cultists or serial killers and didn’t seem to have a fondness for fire-starting.

  Time would tell, I suppose.

  As I frothed the milk for her coffee, she glanced over at me. “Hey, if I throw in an extra five hundred dollars to sweeten our deal, could I live here? You can have my place in return.”

  I laughed. “Sure.”

  She waggled a finger at me. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Scott. I don’t joke about real estate.” She sighed and looked around with a smile. “And this place is definitely no joke. It’s amazing.”

  I poured the milk into her mug. “Well, you said in one of your texts the other night that you own your own place, right? That’s pretty damn impressive for someone your age these days. Especially in this city.”

  She tilted her head slightly to the side, forehead lined with disbelief. “You’re only a year older than me and you live here. That’s far more impressive.”

  I shrugged. “I got lucky, that’s all. Entered the market at the right time. I think you’ve achieved a hell of a lot. With your job as well as your house.”

  Georgie bit her bottom lip and looked away, obviously embarrassed by the compliment. She was a real enigma, this girl. So intent on proving herself to people but so self-conscious when anyone pointed out how well she was doing. I’d only known her for about five milliseconds and I’d already picked up on that.

  I held out the mug. “Anyway, here’s your coffee. Let’s take it out on the deck.”

  Before following me through the sliding doors to the deck, Georgie knelt down and reached into one of her bags. “Before I forget,” she explained. “I have something to show you.”

  She triumphantly whipped out a file, and I lifted a brow as we headed out to the deck. “What’s that?” I asked, setting her drink down on the table.

  “Now that the photos have all been taken, we’ve been working overtime on this calendar at work. I’ve got the first mockup right here. Thought you might want to see.”

  I groaned. “I don’t need to look at that,” I said, recalling all the supposedly-sexy poses they got me in during the shoot. One involved a giant lollipop.

  She giggled. “I think you do. You should see the final picture we selected for you.”

  “I’m sure it’s great,” I said, ignoring the file and looking out over the ocean beyond the reserve.

  “C’mon, have a look. I’m really happy with how it turned out. This calendar is gonna raise a ton for the hospice!” she said, pushing the file closer to me.

  I rolled my eyes, not even realizing I was doing it until Georgie frowned. “Okay, I saw that. D
o you hate this charity or something?”

  I looked back at her, my expression incredulous. “Do I what?”

  “Well, you didn’t seem too thrilled about being at the shoot the other day. I heard you on the phone complaining to someone that morning, remember? You were very sarcastically saying ‘right, it’s for a good cause’,” she said, doing a pretty damn good impersonation of my voice. “And now you’re rolling your eyes at this calendar proof. So I get the impression you aren’t exactly keen on the organization.”

  “Right.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. It’s not that I dislike it.”

  “Uh-huh.” She narrowed her eyes, clearly still suspicious of my newly-sour attitude. “So what, do you just hate the idea of charity in general? Think everyone should fend for themselves, or something like that?”

  “No.” I puffed out a shallow breath. “Look, I’ve had some negative experiences with one before, that’s all. Left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I don’t like to be reminded of it. Sorry if I came across as a dick.”

  She peered at me. Her bottom lip was shiny from the way she’d been licking at it over the last few seconds. “What experiences?”

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Do you need sugar for your coffee?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “No sugar, thanks. And we’re meant to be getting to know each other, so you can tell me,” she said. “I mean, if you want,” she added hurriedly, presumably realizing she was being a little pushy.

  I nodded slowly. She had a point. Something like this was bound to come up if and when her family asked me about my own family. I could tell her vague details about my life without pouring my heart and soul out, I guess.

  I cleared my throat. “Fair enough. Well, like I said, most are decent. I did last year’s calendar for that sick kid’s group, and that was great.”

  “Oh, right! I wasn’t involved, but I remember walking by and seeing that one getting shot. It looked amazing.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. They do really good things for those kids. But do you remember a few years back there was that whole scandal with some cancer charity saying they were taking money for research, when in reality ninety-nine percent of what they raised went to line the CEO’s pockets?”

  Georgie shuddered. “Ugh. Yeah, I remember that. It was horrible.”

  “Well, my mom had cancer several years ago. She used to go to this church. Nice people there. They all got together to raise some funds to donate to this cancer charity in her name.”

  “And it was the one with the shady CEO?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, logically I know it’s not their fault she was sick,” I said. “Or that she died,” I added, softer this time. Then I looked back at Georgie. “But I just can’t help linking it all in my mind and wondering what could’ve happened if they actually put that money to research like they said they would. Maybe they would’ve discovered something miraculous. Maybe she’d still be around.”

  Georgie’s eyebrows knitted with concern. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I had no idea your mom passed away.”

  “Yeah. It was shit, obviously. Our father left us when I was just a baby and Robert was two. So Mom was all we really had growing up.” I gritted my teeth.

  She nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry. And I get what you mean—it’s not their fault, but you still feel pretty damn salty about what they did. Understandably.”

  “Exactly. So no, I don’t dislike charities. Only that one. I guess I just let it bother me whenever I think about any other ones, because it reminds me.” I held my palms up. “And apparently, I’m not great at hiding it. Plus I was in a fucking foul mood the day we met.”

  “Yeah. Well, sorry for waving this in your face and harassing you to look at it,” she murmured, pulling the file back. “You don’t have to.”

  I put my hand on it, stopping her from sliding it all the way back. “No, I’m sorry. I was being a dick. Let me look. I’m sure it’s amazing.” I began to leaf through it, forcing a smile. “When’s it going on sale?” I asked, glancing up a moment later.

  Georgie smiled back at me. “Sometime in November. They’re hoping people will buy it in the lead-up to Christmas, as gifts for other people.”

  “Right. I know this is just the first proof, but it already looks great. I’m sure it will raise a lot.” I meant it. It really did look great. Georgie had a wonderful eye for design.

  “Hope so.”

  There was a long pause as we both sipped at our drinks. I noticed Georgie had a bit of foam on her lip, and I resisted the urge to lean over and lick it off. Barely. My cock throbbed in my pants.

  “So what about your family?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the temptation of her upper lip. “They all live here, right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. It’s just me, Libby, and Mom. Dad died a few years ago.”

  Guilt stirred in my guts and my hard-on instantly vanished. There I was a few minutes ago, feeling sorry for myself over my own situation, and it hadn’t even occurred to me that Georgie might’ve gone through the very same thing. “I didn’t know you lost a parent young as well.”

  Georgie’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she nodded. “It was hard. But it wasn’t entirely unexpected. He was in his early eighties.”

  My forehead wrinkled with surprise. “Really?”

  “Mom was twenty-six when she married him. Typical trophy wife. He was forty-nine. They didn’t have me or Libby until Mom was in her thirties, so he was already well into his fifties at the time.”

  “I see. So he lived a good, long life then.”

  She nodded. “He did. He died peacefully in his sleep when I was twenty-five. No pain or suffering. I guess that’s the best you can ask for when someone dies, right?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” For a second, I pictured my mother’s hospital room all those years ago. Pale mint green sheets, dim lighting, small vase of wilting flowers beside the bed. The smell of disinfectant was what stayed with me the most.

  It wasn’t the way I imagined losing my mom, in a little room like that, but there wasn’t anything I could do. Not then. Maybe if I just had a little more time…

  But that wasn’t how it worked. Life was never that kind.

  Georgie looked down at her lap, then back up at me. “Maybe we should talk about something a bit less sad for now,” she said. “Our families seem to be a sensitive subject. Probably not the best way to start things off.”

  I smiled faintly. “You got it,” I replied, picking up my cell. “Here, let me take that deck photo of you. The first for our little relationship collection.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Sure. I’ll stand up and look over the edge. You can take it from the side, like it was a candid shot.”

  As she stood up, the breeze picked up, blowing her wavy hair back over her shoulders. She squealed, immediately trying to fix it the way I knew she would, but the wind kept coming, making a frizzy, tangled mess of her locks.

  I looked at her through the camera on my phone, wishing my hands were yanking that hair back instead. Wishing I could take charge, make her give herself over to me.

  Everything about her screamed ‘control freak’—the way she spoke, the way she claimed she was too busy for a real relationship, the way she didn’t take shit from anyone (aside from her mother, ostensibly) and the way she’d risen through the ranks at Harborview to become a creative director at such a relatively young age. That was no mean feat, and she should be proud.

  But it seemed like she was trying to hide her true self behind this wall of control. Even if the rest of the world bought her rendition of a firm, demanding career woman who didn’t have time for a man, I could already see something else beneath the surface from the vulnerable expression in her eyes. There was so much more to her than what she let on, and I wanted to strip back those layers until she showed me who she really was.

  “So there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” I said as I lined up another shot. “This fake boyfriend scheme
of yours. Why me? Out of all the guys you could’ve asked.”

  I didn’t miss the fact that Georgie’s cheeks were slowly turning a deeper shade of pink now. A thrilling jolt shot through me as she turned away, embarrassed.

  “C’mon,” I cajoled. “Tell me.”

  She turned back to me. “You really want to know?”

  I grinned. “Yup.”

  “This makes me look really dumb, so don’t laugh, okay? But I was going to ask a friend of mine called Nathan. I was sure he’d say yes, so I told my mom and sister that my boyfriend’s name was Nathan. But I forgot that he’s halfway across the world right now and wouldn’t be able to do it. So I really needed someone with the same name. Then I saw you and figured, hey… worth a shot. I didn’t think you’d ever say yes, but here we are.”

  She smiled, and my mood soured. “Oh. Right.”

  Idiot.

  I’d actually been cocky enough to think there was another reason Georgie picked me. I kept thinking that she took one look at me and decided I was the perfect guy to ask, out of all those good-looking dudes at the shoot this week. More to the point, I thought she wanted to fuck me and didn’t want to admit it; that this fake dating game was part of a long-winded, secretive way of displaying her interest and getting me involved in her life. When really, she only picked me because of my name. Nothing more.

  Served me right for making the arrogant assumption that all women instantly wanted to screw me. A stupid assumption, too. What sort of woman would offer to pay a guy to pretend to be her boyfriend if she was actually interested in fucking him? No one was that into a guy that they’d plan something so complex just to get him into bed eventually.

  I should’ve known from the beginning that this was nothing more than what she said it was: a fake short-term relationship in return for a free vacation and a cash bonus. She had zero interest in me beyond that. I’d simply let my physical attraction to her get the better of me, and my mind had run wild as a result, filling my head with all sorts of dumb ideas.