Page 8 of Private Reserve
“Three weeks.”
“Plenty of time. You stay with me for those weeks, then when your trip is over, you can fly back home, claim it didn’t work out. We can get an annulment. No one would ever have to know.”
I’d know.
“Don’t worry. It will all be just an act, Olivia. It will be in name only, and once the vineyard is signed over to me, we’d no longer have to put on a show.”
I look at him, taking in the frown lines around his mouth, the worry and fear ghos
ting his eyes. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”
Jesus, girl, you can’t seriously be considering this!
He nods, and my heart misses a beat.
Oh cripes, I can feel myself caving. Stay strong, Olivia—pretending to be his wife, sharing a bed for the next few weeks with him not being yours, will be emotional suicide. I should just slice open a vein and bleed out now. I shake my head. I can’t. I just can’t.
“Gio—”
“We’d be helping each other out.”
I think about the job at East Coast Media. I’d do just about anything to work for a firm that respects the women it employs. “One thing,” I say, hardly able to believe what I’m about to do.
“Name it.”
“You get me the interview. I get the job on my own merit.”
He nods. “One more thing for me, too.”
Anything….
Oh God, Olivia you are so pathetic.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to help me. I’d love to put our brains together, come up with ideas on how to market this place to a younger crowd.”
Brains together…bodies together.
“What do you say, Olivia?”
Chapter Four
Olivia
Why on earth did I ever say yes? I must be some sort of masochist. It’s the only explanation. When this is over, I’m going to wake up in a cold bed feeling like I’d had one too many shots of Patron. Again.
I sneak a sideways glance at the man beside me as he drives along the winding road leading to town. My heart thumps a little as I take in his features. Square jaw, firm chin, hard body that fills me with want. He turns my way, but I’m too slow to react and he catches me staring.
How can I still love him so much?
“Everything okay?” he asks, his hand sliding across the seat to capture mine. He gives a small squeeze, and my lungs constrict with it.
“I’m okay,” I squeak, even though I’m not. I can’t believe that in a few short hours I’ll be marrying the man I never stopped loving, even though his departure took the wind out of me and I haven’t been able to breathe quite the same since.
I glance at my purse and think about texting one of the girls. Would they talk me out of this, tell me I’m absolutely crazy? Which I probably am. Or would they tell me to go for it, enjoy the rights that go with marriage? Needing a distraction, something else to mull over as we drive to town to pick out a dress for the ceremony, I think about my brief meeting with his parents after agreeing to his ludicrous plan.
“Your parents are nice, Gio. I like them a lot.”
