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“I was partner at my old firm,” he says. It sounds almost like a boast, but there’s a guardedness creeping into his eyes. I’m starting to notice that it comes up whenever he talks about his past. Or when I stare too long at his hands.
Rather than press him for more information, I tease. “I’m relieved.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“The chances of you being an ax murderer just decreased by fifty percent.”
“Just fifty?”
“I thought I was being generous.”
His lips tilt up.
I smile back.
This is okay.
We can do this.
I can totally marry a man I don’t know.
Whatever.
It’s fine.
Perfectly fine.
Brogan poises his slender fingers over the keyboard.
I take a deep breath. “Rule Number One: no one can ever know this is fake.”
“No one?” He glances at me. “My friend Lucas knows.”
“Lucas?”
“He’s trustworthy.”
“Okay. No one except Lucas. And definitely no one in my family.” I shudder to think of Novah getting her hands on this information. She’d lord it over me for life. “We have to convince my mom and the rest of them that it’s real.”
He nods.
“So if that requires some physical interaction,” I study his expression to see how he feels about that, “we might have to do it.”
Brogan just shrugs.
“Kissing,” I say hesitantly.
He writes it down.
“Hugging. Handholding. The usual.”
“Got it.” He nods as if we’re discussing what we’ll order from a menu and not how we’ll handle PDA. “Anything else?”
“No sex,” I add.
He glances at me with an incredulous look.
I shrug. “We’re being thorough.”
