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“Be who?” I ask, confused.
“My girlfriend.”
Now it’s my turn to snort my sake. “You have got to be kidding me!” I exclaim.
“It wouldn’t be for long,” Dash says quickly. His voice takes on a charming, seductive note. “She’s hosting this gala for the weekend in Palm Beach. We drop by, convince her I’m a stable, productive member of society, get my trust released, problem solved.”
“It’ll take a lot longer than that to make anyone think you’re stable,” I mutter.
Dash reaches across the table and captures my hand. “Come on,” he says, turning that mega-watt charm full force at me. “Say ‘yes’. We’ll have a blast together…”
His thumb absently strokes my palm, and just like that, all the nerve endings in my body come firing to life. His gaze turns smoky, holding my eyes. “So, we got off on the wrong foot,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Give me another chance. I can be very, very fun once you get to know me…”
He caresses my palm again, and my heart beats faster in my chest. The room seems to melt away, leaving just the two of us, and Dash’s blue eyes, and the feel of his thumb rubbing back and forth, back and—
“Salmon sashimi.” The waiter brings my food, breaking the moment.
I snatch my hand away, sucking in a breath of air.
What the hell just happened?
Phineas Dashford the Fourth, that’s what.
“Oh, you’re good,” I say, almost impressed by his seduction. “It’s no wonder you have half the city swooning for you. So why do you need my help? Get one of your numerous girlfriends to play house.”
Dash gives a half-smile, like, ‘too bad.’ “Because they might get the wrong idea,” he admits, pushing a hand through his hair.
“You mean, they might think you have a single honest bone in your body?” I ask, before quickly adding, “Don’t even say it.”
“Too easy,” Dash grins back at me. “Let’s just say, if they play at being the Future Mrs. Dashford, they might get too comfy with the role and start thinking they can make it real.”
“Well, there’s no chance of that happening with me,” I crack, and he leans forward.
“Exactly! This would be straight business. You help me with Zelda, and in return…” He trails off.
He’s serious, I realize. The man is actually sitting here asking me to play his fake girlfriend.
Did I stumble, trip, and fall into a rom-com?
I narrow my eyes at him. The man is clearly insane, but… “What are you offering in return?” I can’t help asking. “You know, for curiosity’s sake.”
He shrugs. “Name your price.”
“One million dollars,” I say immediately, pressing my pinky finger to my lips, a la Dr. Evil.
He smirks. “Be serious. I bet some extra cash would come in handy to help your little makeup business.”
“Little makeup business?” I repeat, my hackles rising at his patronizing tone. “I’m not setting up a lemonade stand, here. Cosmetics are a billion-dollar industry. Makeup generates more profits per year than cars or professional sports, but God forbid we take them as seriously. After all, it’s just women spending, not you big, important, manly men.”
Dash’s lips quirk with amusement. “I stand corrected,” he says.
“Good.” I scowl back.
“Does this mean you’ll do it?” he asks hopefully. “Come with me to Florida?”
“Nope.” I vow, getting to my feet. It may not quite be selling my body to play along with this fake girlfriend thing, but I’d be renting my dignity out for sure. And if I can’t make it through lunch with the man without wanting to slap him, I’m sure as hell not going to be able to deal with a romantic getaway with the guy.
24/7 bachelor overload with a side of condescension? No way.
