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She laughs. That’s it. No other response, as if she won’t be baited. As if she knows that’s his intent, and she just isn’t going to play his game.
How can she see that so clearly?
“We should toast to all of our youthfulness,” Heather says.
Bless her.
Clover nods. “Absolutely. Oh, look, we don’t have any wine yet.” She drops her hand to my thigh—mythigh, which has no choice but to tense under her touch—and squeezes.
My hand falls on top of hers. To remove her touch from my body, I tell myself, but then I find myself squeezing her fingers. Pressing her hand down instead of removing it. “We should get a bottle,” I hear myself saying. “Bordeaux, if we’re all going to have steak?”
Andrew flags down a waiter.
Menus get distributed and small talk is made. The whole time my hand stays heavily on top of Clover’s, as if her grip on my thigh is my only tether to keep me from being snapped to another dimension where my assistant has not just shown up out of the blue and assumed the identity of my fiancée, who was one thousand percent modeled after her, anyway.
A house of cards that will surely tumble down around me before dinner is over.
“Rufus tells me that you live overseas.” Clover says, putting Andrew in the seat of having to answer questions.
I suppose that is technically true. I did tell her that about them.
My business partner frowns. “When did he say that?”
“I don’t remember exactly,” she says smoothly, glancing my way. “Was it when we started dating?”
A leading question I recognize from times she’s interjected in conversations with business leads, filling in gaps I’ve missed. She’s asking me when we started dating. When did I lie to my partner and tell him I was no longer a determined bachelor?
I swallow hard. “Almost this time last year.” My voice sounds rough. Fuck it. Truth time, one way or another. “I probably told you about Andrew the first time we met. And then I told him about you soon after.”
Her eyes flare wide.Did you really?
I force myself to hold her molten gaze.Please don’t hate me.
Andrew laughed. “He sure did. It was Jane this and Jane that. I was convinced you weren’t real, I have to be honest.”
Clover’s hand tightens on my thigh. “I’m very real.”
“Indeed. Although it’s taken so long for us to meet…” He trails off as the wine arrives and we order food.
I turn our hands so I can interlace our fingers. That feels less like a maniacal grip and more like something akin to how an engaged couple might hold hands. However my gorgeous and clever assistant found her way to this chair beside me tonight, it might be my only chance to live out this fantasy, and I want to know what her hand feels like in mine from every angle.
Chapter3
Clover
I’m tryingmy best to keep up with the conversation, but Rufus keeps stroking the side of my hand with the pad of his thumb, and I’m melting down inside.
I thought I could do this. Icando this. For him, and a little bit for me—to prove to us both that I’m more than an assistant, that I can be anything and everything he needs—but oh my God, is it ever hard to stay in character when I just want to crawl into his lap and rub my face into his neck like a cat.
If his business partner wasn’t glowering at us from across the table, this would be a seriously magical first date.
Who knew all I needed to do to get my boss to hold my hand possessively was to dress up like a caricature of myself and pretend we’ve been dating for almost a year?
Because based on everything Andrew and Heather bring up, itisme that he’s been in a relationship with. Only identifying details have been changed—like my name, and where I work. And the minor detail like, I didn’t get any of the relationship perks, since I didn’t know I was his secret girlfriend.
Did I miss out on a year of being kissed goodnight by Mr. Newton Smith?
I go still, and Rufus immediately tightens his grip on my hand, a warm squeeze. Since when is my oak tree of a boss the “warm squeeze” type of person? I glance sideways, and he’s frowning. That’s more familiar. He frowns a lot.
