Page 12 of Fake it for Keeps

5

COLT

Ilounged in the back room of the Faux dating agency, trying to look like I hadn’t spent the entire night staring at my ceiling, willing sleep to come.

It hadn’t worked.

The dream was back. The one I’d managed to avoid for months. It was the same one that left me sweating and gasping for air in the dark. Last night, it had hit me full force. Worse than it had been in a long time. I’d woken up at four with my heart trying to punch through my ribcage. No matter what I did, I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep.

I blamed the empty bed. I had gone home alone and I always slept more soundly after I worked out all my energy making a woman come undone over and over. Plus, if there had been a hot little thing in my bed, when I woke up from a nightmare, I would have just buried myself in her to banish the old demons. It was the best medicine.

So here I was, exhausted and on edge, waiting for Hallie to walk through that door so I could pitch her the most insane idea I’d ever had.

The door to the conference room opened, and a young woman—early twenties, blonde, too much makeup—poked her head in with a bright smile. “Mr. Jesson? Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

I forced myself to sit up straighter and turn on the charm. “Coffee would be great, sweetheart. Two sugars. The real stuff.”

She giggled and I turned it up a notch.

“You know,” I said, letting my gaze drift over her in a way that made her cheeks flush. “You have the most incredible eyes. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Oh my gosh, thank you.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, practically melting. “I’ll get that coffee for you right away.”

“Take your time,” I said, flashing her a grin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She disappeared, and I slumped back in my chair, the exhaustion crashing over me again. The charm was automatic at this point. It was a reflex I couldn’t turn off even when I was running on fumes. It was easier to flirt than to think about the nightmare still clinging to the edges of my mind.

The door opened again, and I straightened, expecting the blonde with my coffee.

Instead, Della walked in. The woman was a character. When I first met her, I really thought she was playing a role. It didn’t take long to figure out she was really that eccentric. Like old school mob wife with a dash of streetwalker, a la Pretty Woman.

She was one of a kind.

But Della’s appearance wasn’t what made my breath catch. Because right behind her was Hallie.

She looked different in the daylight. Less polished, more real. She wore jeans that hugged her curves in a way that should’ve been illegal, and an oversized sweatshirt that somehow made her look even sexier than she had in that gown. Her long black hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her face was bare of makeup, revealing a smattering of freckles across her nose.

How the hell did she look this good in casual wear? I knew some women were prettier without makeup, but Hallie was enchanting.

I stood up, moving toward her on instinct, reaching for her hand. But something in her eyes made me pause. A flicker of what? Panic? Anger? Recognition?

No, that couldn’t be right. We’d never met before the gala. I would remember someone like her. Those curves were unforgettable.

“Mr. Jesson,” Della said smoothly. “May I introduce Hallie Bellrose? This is who you’ve requested as a faux date.”

“Faux fiancée,” I corrected, my eyes still locked on Hallie.

Hallie’s face went pale. Then red. Then she started backing toward the door.

“Fiancée?” Hallie repeated. “I don’t know about all that.”

I looked at Della. “I didn’t have a chance to give her the details,” she said. “Although I did say it was long term.”

“Absolutely not,” Hallie said, her voice tight. “No. No way. I’m leaving.”

“Wait.” Della stepped between Hallie and the door, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “Just hear him out, Hallie. The terms are very generous.”

“I don’t care how much he’s offering,” Hallie shot back. “I’m not doing this.”