Her tears are like a spear through my heart. Never do I want to see her upset again over this. Her ex needs to pay for what he’s done and for what he’s putting her through.
Spinning her around so I can face her, I hold on tight when I say, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you areunbreakable. You have survived nasty beauty pageants, naked photos, a humiliating breakup, and a media circus hounding you. Not many people could get through all that without major damage. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve got this.”
She gives me a small smile. “After all the years of hating each other, never in a million years would I have thought we would be here like this.”
“We’re meant to be—” I bite my tongue before I saywe’re meant to be together. She looks at me intently, like she’s wondering what I was about to say. “We’re meant to be friends,” I correct myself.
She nods, her eyes downcast. Is she disappointed? God, I hope she’s not feeling things other than friendship and lust for me. Feelings I can’t return.
Having her living in my apartment is blurring the lines between friendship and love. We’re saying this relationship is fake, yet we’re sleeping in the same bed every night. Having breakfast together. Talking about our lives, our goals, our dreams. I spend more time working from home than in the office. When I’m in the office I’m excited to get home because I know Penny is waiting for me.
Just like a real couple.
Dropping my hands from around her waist, I step away. I need to pull back and put some distance between us—keep emotions out of it. Shit! This is the worst time. We are about to walk into a pack of wolves. All eyes on us. Every move will be monitored. This is not the time to fuck this up.
I clear my throat. “Are you ready?” Am I? I have to be. This was my idea.
“Yes.” She picks up her purse from the dresser, and I follow her out of the room. Her hips sway with each step and my gaze follows. I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t think I’ll have a problem proving I’m into her.
Stopping in front of the restaurant, I grip the steering wheel and stare out the windshield. This is it. When we get out of the car it’s game on. No backing out.
“Hey, you’ve been quiet all the way here. Is something wrong?” Penny asks as if she senses my unease.
“No,” I say.
“Are you sure? Because you’ve been frowning since we left the apartment. If you don’t want to do this, it’s okay. You have done so much already. This is my mess to fix. I’ll think of another way to win back the public’s affection.”
I give her a quick glance. “I’m a little nervous,” I admit.
Putting her hand on my thigh, she says, “Me too. Let’s turn around and go home.”
I shake my head. “No, we’re here now. Let’s see it through.” I reach for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. I don’t need to hold her hand; no one can see us. Yet my instincts have me touching her every chance I get. “Are you ready to go inside?”
Biting her bottom lip, her gaze locks on mine, her eyes a little wide with fear. I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles to try and steady her nerves. Hell, it’s to steady mine too. So much for keeping my distance. This is not pulling away.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says with a too-bright smile.
“That’s my girl,” I say, and her eyes snap to mine. I keep doing and saying things I shouldn’t, yet every fiber of my being is screaming sheismy girl! I drop her hand and open the door. “Let’s do this.”
We get out of the vehicle, and I move around the hood of the car to Penny. Once again, I take her hand. It’s small and soft in mine. This time I’m holding it for no other reason than for show.
Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.
A valet hurries to the car, and I hand him the keys, and we make our way inside.
We chose the Italian restaurant for its location. It’s not a hotspot in the center of the city where celebrities go to be seen and photographers line the streets to get a photo. If we turned up at a place like that, it might look too obvious that what we’re doing is all an act. This restaurant is still busy enough to get noticed in a more subtle way. If all goes well, the paparazzi will get wind we are here.
The hostess greets us with a smile before she does a double-take. Okay, here we go. She’s recognized us. That’s a good sign. She picks up leather-bound menus and guides us to a booth in the corner of the restaurant and in front of a window. We are exposed to the diners and to whoever walks past outside.Claudia picked the restaurant and arranged for this table, said it was the perfect position to be seen.
As we take our seats, I glance around the room. People are looking our way and whispering to each other behind their hands. We’ve attracted their attention. It won’t be long before they take what they think are sneaky photos of us and upload them online.
With jerky movements, Penny opens her menu. Her face is pale and stiff. This is hard on her. I hate that she has to go through all of this because she picked an asshole for a fiancé.
“Hey, Pixie,” I say, my voice lowered. “You won’t convince anyone we’re in love if you’re firing daggers at the menu.”
Her head snaps up. “They’re talking about us and staring.”
I nod and smile like she’s said something sweet. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”
