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My dad flinches.
“So now imagine what it’s like to meet him, in passing at a coffee shop, and have him turn your whole world upside down.” Amelia looks at me, her smile conspiratorial. I feel heat lick through my entire body at that smile.
“Imagine,” she says softly. “You think that’s the end. But then it turns out he’s at your new job. And it’s like no time has passed at all.”
I’d laugh if she wasn’t so damn convincing. If there wasn’t a part of me that wants to believe the lie she’s spinning.
“Didn’t you try to spray him in the face with hairspray?” my dad points out.
“It was a rough breakup,” I admit. “I get why she was mad. But when I saw her, I knew I needed her back on my side.” Myvoice gets lower, softer. More honest. “It couldn’t be anyone else but her.”
If possible, her smile widens.
“You really are doing this,” my dad says, sounding disgusted. But also, finally convinced.
On impulse, I kiss Amelia. It’s a quick brush of lips, my hand cradling her face. I can tell myself it’s for my dad’s benefit. But I know the truth.
It’s for me. Touching her, being gentle toward her, breathing in her scent—that’s all for me.
“Can we get out of here yet?” She murmurs against my lips.
“God yes.” We did what we needed to. We convinced my dad. Now he’ll complain to his favorite board members, and they’ll talk to others, and before you know it the whole board will know the balance of power is about to shift in my favor.
Which means I don’t have to subject Amelia to a second more of my dad’s presence.
Amelia stands and grabs the wine bottle. “Goodbye, Howard. It’s been...an evening.” Then she grabs my hand and tugs me to my feet. I’m pretty sure she’d forget our coats if I didn’t grab them.
I follow her to the elevator, trying not to feel rescued. Amelia Maguire is so much more than I bargained for.
“How’d I do?”Amelia asks as she cracks eggs into a pan. We’re back in my apartment, trading swigs from the open wine bottle, while Amelia makes breakfast for dinner. I told her I could order something. But she said that wasn’t necessary.
So now I’m braced against the counter, watching her flit about my kitchen. She’s barefoot, in that fluttery pink dress that makes her look like something out of a fairy tale.
“Am I a good fake fiancée?” she asks.
“You’re marvelous,” I say. My voice comes out rougher than I intended it to.
Amelia plucks four slices of toast from the toaster, slathers them with butter, and drops them on two plates. She’s gracefully efficient as she flips the eggs onto the toast, then places one of the plates in front of me.
We could move to the dining room table. There’s a whole fancy room behind us. But instead, we eat leaning against the kitchen island, like we’re starving and can’t wait a second longer.
I’m definitely starving for something; I think as I watch Amelia sip hundred-dollar wine like it’s two buck chuck.And it’s not the food.
I clear my throat. I shouldn’t be thinking like that. Amelia’s going to be living with me for the next six months. Yes, we have chemistry. But if I make a move on her, things will get messy fast, and I’m not a man who does mess.
And I have no intention of spending the next few months pining like a lovesick fool.
So I’ll stop thinking about what her body does to mine. What mine could do for hers, if she let me back her into a wall, spread her legs, shove that filmy pink skirt out of the way...
I crack my jaw, casting about for something to talk about. Anything.
“This is the second time I’ve had breakfast food late at night with you,” I say. It’s possibly the dumbest, most boring observation in the history of the world. I feel like I’m in eighth grade again, trying to learn how to talk to a cute girl without letting her suspect I have a crush on her.
Not that I have a crush on Amelia. The thought’s ridiculous. I’m far too old for crushes.
I’m horny because I haven’t gotten laid in a while. That’s all. I’ll watch some porn, jerk off, and get over it.
The problem is, porn sounds kind of boring compared to Amelia in her pink dress. Or that black sexy thing she wore to her friend’s bachelorette party. Or that flowered thing she was wearing when we met at the Edwin club, and she told me for the first time that she wants to start her own business.
