Page 79 of Fake it for Keeps

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HALLIE

The champagne had gone straight to my head. Or maybe it was the way Colt had held me on the dance floor. The way he’d looked at me like I was the only person in the room. The way he’d kissed me like he was drowning and I was air.

Either way, I was floating.

We made the rounds after that, Colt introducing me to what felt like every wealthy person in Manhattan. My cheeks hurt from smiling, but I kept it up. This was the job. This was what I’d signed up for.

Except it didn’t feel like a job anymore.

Not after that kiss.

Someone called me Hallie Jesson, saying the double J initials were cool. It took me by surprise. I played it off, but I realized people were going to be calling me Hallie Jesson for the next six months. Well, after Valentine’s Day.

The name felt strange, like trying on someone else’s identity.

“Don’t you think, Hallie?” The hedge fund manager was looking at me expectantly.

I had no idea what he’d asked. “Absolutely,” I said with what I hoped was an intelligent nod.

Colt’s hand tightened on my waist, in amusement, I thought. He knew I hadn’t been listening.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Colt said smoothly. “I’d like to dance with my fiancée again.”

Thank God.

He led me back onto the dance floor, and this time when he pulled me close, I didn’t hesitate. I melted into him, letting my body follow his lead without thinking.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured in my ear.

“What?”

“You had no idea what Gerald was talking about.”

“Was that his name?” I looked up at him. “I thought it was Gary. Or George. One of those G names.”

He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. “You’re lucky you’re beautiful. It makes people forgive your complete lack of interest in their boring conversations.”

“I’m not that beautiful,” I said automatically.

His expression shifted, becoming serious. “Yes, you are.”

The champagne made me bold. “Even compared to your usual type? The models and actresses and socialites?”

“Especially compared to them.” His hand slid lower on my back, dangerously close to inappropriate. “They’re beautiful like paintings. Nice to look at but ultimately flat. Two-dimensional.”

“And me?”

“You’re beautiful like…” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Like architecture. Complex. Interesting from every angle. The kind of beauty that reveals more the longer you look.”

My breath caught. “That’s the champagne talking.”

“I don’t get drunk, Hallie. That’s just the truth.”

We swayed together. I felt drunk on something that had nothing to do with alcohol. The way he was looking at me. The way his body moved against mine. The memory of that kiss still tingling on my lips.

This was dangerous. So dangerous.