Page 17 of The Dating Charade

And all it took was dragging a thirty-five-thousand-pound fire engine across town, handing over every piece of his criminal and financial activity of the last twenty-nine years, and convincing both her friend and his to join in on the fun.

“One hundred billionth visitors,” she said, her arm still looped around his. “That’s a very big deal.”

“Something worth celebrating as fast as possible, I’d imagine.”

He turned her to the hall, enjoying the press of her arm between his own and his side.

“In that case, it’s a good thing I know of a quick exit.” She danced them backward through the crowd to a small, unimportant back door.

7

Cassie

“Oh, that’s right. You hung out with Cole and Stephen on the football team.”

Jett spun his pasta around his fork, a wry grin on his face. “No.”

“I mean, Greg and Jamie from swim team.” Cassie smiled. “Remember how they always walked down the hall in their swim caps?”

Jett lifted his fork, his playful smile growing. “No.”

“The Carter brothers from band?” she asked, desperation rising.

“No.”

“Terry and the chess club?” she asked meekly.

Jett pointed his fork. “Bingo.”

“I knew it.” Cassie snapped her fingers triumphantly, then dropped her napkin over her empty plate. Both the heat from the restaurant’s crackling fire and the swimming conversation the last two hours was flushing her cheeks.

She practically started laughing before she could finish the next question. “Hey, do you remember that after-prom party at Drake’s where Greg Lynley dozed off and woke up floating on an air mattress in Drake’s pool?” Her laughter bubbled over into her words.

Jett grinned. Opened his mouth. Paused. “No.”

Her laughter stopped. “I thought the whole school was invited.”

“Of course you did. You are the Cassie Everson.” Jett wiped his mouth, then laid the crumpled napkin on his plate. Perhaps it was the fire beside them, but his face, too, looked flushed as he bantered back and forth with her, his back resting comfortably against the dining-room chair.

“All right, then, Jett,” Cassie said, flinging her hands in the air. “I’ve tried desperately to jog my memory of you the past two hours, and I’ve given you every chance to lie and make me believe you were cooler than you were. I give up. If you don’t want to embellish your high school days to impress me, that’s your prerogative.”

“Does lying impress you? Because I can lie. I can be the best pathological liar you’ve ever met.” He smiled with ease as he took the bill from the waiter, who was looking down at him suspiciously.

Cassie waved a hand in the air. “Forget it. I looked through the yearbooks anyways. I know about the bowl cut.” She leaned forward. “How about you stick to the present, please. And leave nothing out.”

“Nothing, eh? Don’t tell me you have some grand escape plan worked out with The Cobbler’s Steakhouse too.”

“You kidding me? Guys never make it to the meal portion of the evening. Still, if you see me drop my fork and start crawling beneath tables for the front door . . .”

He laughed. She laughed back.

Both their eyes twinkled.

The luxury-cabin dining room was filled with votive candles and crisp white tablecloths. Busts of deer and elk and bear surrounded them from their lofty positions beneath the ceiling, and Cassie and Jett sat beside one large, roaring fireplace, knees nearly touching beneath the small table.

“Well, let’s see,” Jett began, sliding cash into the check holder and pushing it to the edge of the table. “You’ve already heard about my job. What I like to do. My family—”

“Your sister. Yeah. I remember her.”