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Simon’s mild expression belied the calculation glinting in his eyes. “How?”
“It’s a job.” Honest work.
“So, I’m offering you the job of my fiancée for the next two weeks.”
The charade continued to disturb her. She wasn’t keen on lying to anyone once, much less spending two weeks doing it. “Don’t you have a little black book full of women you could ask? I’ll bet Francine won’t even remember what I looked like.”
“Maybe.” He drew the word out with a smoldering grin. “But I want you.”
Those last three words did funny things to her on two levels. The first gave her a warm sense of belonging. She’d been on the outside looking in for so long, being wanted filled her with delight. The second left her pierced straight through as his jewel-bright eyes took on a look of sensual consideration. Want as in desired. She curled her fingers inward until her nails bit into her palms.
Speechless, she shook her head.
“Think about what the money can do for you.”
How could she help but think about it? She’d stretched her student loans as far as she could and had no idea how to come up with the money to finish anytime soon.
Just the thought of putting her financial woes behind her loosened some of the tightness in her shoulders. She luxuriated in the notion she could finish law school next spring. All her years of hard work and sacrifice would pay off. Not bad for a small-town girl with no prospects.
But to be paid for taking part in a deception didn’t feel right. “I can’t be bought.”
“No?” He brushed his fingertips across her knuckles. “But I’ll bet you can be persuaded.”
The contact made her nerve endings pay attention. An insistent emotion shimmered deep inside. She liked being touched by him. Unexpected. Usually she shied away from physical contact with strangers. Being on her own for so long, she’d relied on being isolated to keep her safe.
“Persuaded?”
Her pulse danced a slow rumba. Sex appeal rolled off him in waves, setting her head to spinning. Was he planning to seduce her? How would she react if he tried?
“Let me explain why it’s so important that I can’t tell Dane about Francine until after Christmas.” He caught both her hands with his and grew serious. Their knees bumped as he leaned forward. “Six months ago my mother found out she had breast cancer. She finished her last round of radiation two weeks ago. She’s been through so much this year, I don’t want her upset.”
Caroline shifted her gaze to avoid the entreaty in Simon’s eyes and winced as pain ripped through her. Of all the things he could have said to convince her to go along with his plans, this was the one thing she had no defense against. She exhaled in defeat and stared at his large, tanned hands holding her smaller, pale ones.
“If,” she began, emphasizing the word while cursing her susceptibility to Simon’s persuasive skills, “I agree to go home with you, what would you expect me to do?”
“Keep Francine off my back.”
Although Simon looked more like Dudley Do-Right than Snidely Whiplash, she remained cautious. “And that’s all?”
He must have seen where her mind went because one side of his mouth lifted. “Well, naturally there would be some public displays of affection required.”
“How many is some?”
His gaze locked on her mouth as if it were a big, juicy strawberry he was dying to sample. “What if I limit it to one kiss per day?”
Her stomach hit the floor and bounced. He might be making fun of her, but something electric and dangerous sparked, setting fire to her blood. This sophisticated man had moves she’d never even imagined and might prove too big a handful for a girl with her limited experience.
Her pulse hammered out a warning, but his sensual pull was hard to resist.
“I think I can live with that.”
“Anything else?” he prompted.
As fast as he demolished her reservations, she groped for new ones. “Would we be expected to share a room?”
“No. My parents’ house is quite large. You can have your own room.”
Caroline chewed her lower lip. Simon made the whole thing sound so reasonable, but she’d ignored her instincts before and found herself in a tight spot a few times thanks to a smooth-talking operator. Like the last cleaning service she’d worked for. The guy who owned it assured her the money she would make working for him was due to her extensive housecleaning résumé. Before she went on her first assignment, he’d neglected to mention that his clients liked their maids to vacuum in lingerie, a bikini or even less. The ink had scarcely dried on her W-4 when she stormed back into his office and tossed her “uniform” at him.
