After that kiss, the rest of the evening passed in a blur.
We said our fond farewells and got out of the restaurant without further incident, but as I waited for my Uber to pull up outside the hotel, Ford decided to make a big show out of saying goodbye to me.
Everyone else was trickling out the doors as well, waiting for their own cars to come back from the valet lot, or for private car services to roll up. We had quite an audience.
“I appreciate you coming out tonight,” he said rather loudly, pulling me close and looking down into my eyes. “It really meant a lot to me and my family.”
“Um, you’re welcome?” I didn’t think he could possibly be serious, because this definitely wasn’t how he usually spoke to me. “Thanks for having me.”
“No,” he said, his hands tightening on my hips. “Thankyou.”
“Ford, please. Your Town Car will be here any moment,” his mother said from behind him. “Come and wait with the rest of us.”
I frowned, but it barely had a chance to form on my lips before Ford was kissing me again. It was different this time, because unlike that first kiss, we were standing…which meant the full length of our bodies were pressed right up against each other.
God, he felt good. Solid, strong, warm. He added a hint more of his tongue this time and it made my head swim. I melted into his arms, unable to help myself.
These kisses were going to be the death of me.
I heard Ford’s mother make a huff of annoyance, but I didn’t care.
Without warning, Ford suddenly let go and stepped back. He had a smug, self-satisfied look on his face and I deflated, realizing I’d gotten carried away—that he merely considered that goodbye kiss to be Mission Accomplished.
Just then, my phone buzzed with a text: my car had arrived. It pulled up to the curb beside the Rideshare App sign and the driver’s side window rolled down.
“Uber for Mara,” he said. As if there was any doubt that the one banged-up silver Toyota sedan in a sea of sleek black Town Cars and valeted luxury vehicles could be for anyone but me.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said with a sigh, adjusting the purse over my shoulder.
Ford opened the door for me and gestured for me to get in the back seat, but on impulse I turned back and grabbed his hand, saying, “Drive home with me.”
It was kind of brilliant on my part. Because we had an audience—with his parents and all their business associates standing around watching us, I knew Ford couldn’t question my motives. I had him. Though I was sure he assumed I was just playing along with the whole charade, really giving it my all.
And that was fine with me. If he could manipulate our friendship to make me agree to participate in this whole thing, then I could manipulate his lie to suit my own purposes as well.
Because we really, really needed to talk through this fake dating stuff. I couldn’t keep getting blindsided by surprise dinners where I got unexpectedly kissed every time his mother said something rude. I needed to lay some ground rules. Set some boundaries.
“I’ll cancel my car,” he announced loudly, obviously for the benefit of everyone nearby.
It was clear what this must have looked like. Especially after that public kiss. I was the smitten girlfriend dying to have her boyfriend all to herself. And Ford, for his part, was the boyfriend who was just as excited to be going home with his girlfriend.
He climbed into the back seat after me, with a hungry expression that almost said he hoped this would turn out to be something other than what it was—a show. Was it possible that he thought this was real? That I was actually dragging him home for a booty call, as if we were a real couple? And why did that thought make my skin tingle so hard with anticipation?
It took less than a minute to realize that whatever I’d thought Ford was feeling in the moment was actually just more of the same act he’d been putting on throughout dinner. Because as soon as we pulled away, he pulled his phone out to set up his own ride home from my loft.
“That was a nice touch,” he said, grinning. “My mother is going to have her pantyhose twisted all night realizing how serious we are to be going home together.”
He gave me a brief, approving look.
“Good thinking,” he said. “My driver will meet me at your place.”
A flash of annoyance washed over me.
“Actually, that wasn’t why I wanted you to come with me,” I said. “We need to talk.”
Turning my way, he put his phone back in his pocket and gave me his full attention. For the first time since this whole thing had started, I finally felt like he was focused solely on me.
It made my heart flutter.
