Page 40 of Substitute Bride

“Sure. Maybe if we treat it as a game too, we can get through it.”

Something about her words spurred a flicker of worry. “You’re okay with this, aren’t you?”

“It’s a little too late to pull back if I’m not,” she said, amusement in her voice.

He’d been opening the door for her but he paused, holding her gaze. “You need to tell me right now if this isn’t all right for you. You know you don’t have to do this to keep your job or anything.” He felt an intense stab of guilt and cursed under his breath. “Shit, I never should have agreed to this. We can just call it off and say it was a practical joke or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, James,” she said, reaching up to put a hand on his chest. “I didn’t feel any pressure. I wanted to do it. I want this situation resolved as much as you do. My grandmother got us into it after all.”

“No, she didn’t. Me and my baggage got the ball rolling, so you shouldn’t take any blame on yourself. Don’t do it out of guilt or anything.”

“It’s not out of guilt. It’s really fine.”

“You’re sure?” He reached up to cup her face so he could see every emotion in her expression.

“I’m sure,” she said, her eyes unwavering. “So stop stalling and let’s get going.”

She looked like she was telling the truth, and James had no choice but to believe her. She was going to be his fiancée—at least for tonight.

Rose had been really nervous about the evening out with James, but the whole thing ended up going fine. They went to one of the most popular restaurants in the city—where they could be sure to be seen by the most people—and then they walked around some downtown streets until they found a cupcake place. They ate cupcakes and bought two to take home for the girls.

They had wine with dinner and champagne with the cupcakes, so both of them were a little tipsy on the way home as they sat in the backseat and laughed about a couple of James’s acquaintances whom they’d seen tonight. Both men seemed very impressed with his “score,” a fact that Rose couldn’t help but be flattered by.

She’d never in her life considered herself a “score” before.

The only bad moment was when James had given her a ring that must have belonged to his wife. It obviously wasn’t an engagement ring. It was beautiful and Rose would have loved it, but she didn’t want one of his wife’s leftovers, something he’d just grabbed to meet a need. She didn’t want to be some sort of substitute or replacement filling a gap left in his life by his wife, and the ring made her feel that way.

She’d stopped thinking about it now though, and the rest of the evening had been just fine.

When the car felt like it was spinning around her, she realized she’d probably drank a little too much. Her brain was buzzing pleasantly, and James seemed particularly relaxed and sexy, sitting beside her with his collar unbuttoned and the front of his shirt wrinkled.

She wanted to brush out the wrinkles. After several moments of pondering, she decided the best thing to do was to reach over and do just that.

James stared down at her hand as she pressed it against his shirt.

She stared down at it too, startled by the sight of her pale skin and neat, unpolished fingernails against the fabric.

His body beneath the shirt felt firm, hard, really nice.

It was a minute before she realized she was supposed to be brushing out the wrinkles.

She glanced up to his face and saw he was looking at her. “Your shirt was wrinkled,” she told him by way of explanation.

“Oh. It’s not much better now.”

“It’s a little better.” She rubbed at the fabric to prove her point. It was still wrinkled.

“No it’s not.” His voice was warm, very appealing. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“You like wrinkled shirts?”

“Not really.”

“But you said you weren’t complaining about having a wrinkled shirt.”

He moved his hand until he was covering her hand on his belly. “I wasn’t complaining about you trying to fix it.”

“I’m good at fixing things.”