Page 36 of Arranged To Be Mine

“See? I told you it would work.”

“So what would this look like?” she asked. “Moving forward. How does one fake date?”

“It wouldn’t take much,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “A few public appearances. Dinner at a trendy restaurant where we know we’ll be photographed. Maybe a coffee run that happens to get caught by paparazzi. We hold hands, smile at each other, generally act like two people who enjoy each other’s company.”

“That last part might be challenging.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m kidding.” She took another sip of beer. “Mostly.”

I grinned. She had a sense of humor.

“The rest of the time, we never have to see each other,” I said. “Just when there’s a photo op or an event. Otherwise, we go about our normal lives. You do you.”

She nodded slowly, processing. “I would need a schedule in advance. I can’t just drop everything because you decide we need to be seen getting coffee.”

“That’s fine. We’ll coordinate calendars like the professionals we are. However, I think this is something we should do, not our assistants.”

She looked appalled.

“The fewer people that know about this little charade, the better,” I said. “I’m sure you can figure out how to use the calendar app. I don’t have any trials coming up on my schedule. I should have some time.”

She picked up another piece of cheese, turning it over in her fingers. “How long would we have to keep this up?”

“Until you’re CEO,” I said. “After that, you can let your work speak for itself. We just need to get you over that last hurdle. Once you’re officially in the chair, people will be too busy watching your actual performance to care about your love life.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring out at the darkening sky. The southern California sky did its thing. Beachcombers were enjoying the last of the sunlight.

“Fine,” she said finally.

I had to laugh. Women were typically more enthusiastic about dating me, real or otherwise. It would have been a blow to my ego if it was from anyone else. But I was confident it was her, not me.

“I do have the Corwin Gems masquerade ball coming up in a few weeks,” she said. “It’s an annual party for the elite. The kind of people who buy the most expensive jewelry.” She paused and wrinkled her nose like she caught a whiff of rotting fish. “It might be nice to have a date for that for a change.”

“Masquerade ball? Sounds fancy.”

“It is. And it’s exactly the kind of event where we could make a splash,” she said.

“In the meantime it probably wouldn’t hurt if you actually learned to loosen up a little.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I can loosen up.”

“Can you? Have you ever had fun? Like, actual fun?”

“Of course I’ve had fun. I was pretty wild in college.”

I snorted. “What, like you went to bed at midnight once?”

We both recognized what it was. A challenge. Without breaking eye contact, she tipped back her beer and drained the rest of it in one long pull. Then she set the empty bottle on the table with a loud clink.

“Got another one of these?”

I stared at her for a second, genuinely surprised. Then I laughed and pushed myself up from the chair. “Coming right up.”

I grabbed two more beers from the fridge and headed back upstairs. When I handed her the fresh bottle, she twisted off the cap herself and took a long sip.

“You were saying?” she asked, one eyebrow arched. “About me not knowing how to have fun?”