There was no denying he had issues.
“This is a complete waste of time.” She didn’t bother to signal before cutting someone off. “The only person at this dinner who doesn’t know our engagement is fake is my sister-in-law. Why do we have to pretend for Amelia? It isn’t like she’s involved in the family company. All she thinks about outside of Jonathan is her precious cello. She’s hardly likely to notice there’s anyone else in the room, let alone that you’re supposed to be my fiancé.”
“Your father seems to think this dinner will be good practice for convincing the rest of your family.”
“I honestly don’t see how.”
“Just go with it. There’s no point in letting it upset you.”
“Upset me?” She cast him a glance full of outrage. “This isn’t upsetting me. This is nothing but an irritation. I’m more annoyed that my weekend plans were ruined by your pathetic need for my assistance.”
Oh yeah, she could flay the skin off his balls with one sentence. And why the hell did that make him want her more? Harvard was beginning to think his closest friends were right: his taste in women was going to get him killed one day.
But what a way to go.
“Why are you smiling like a lunatic?” Rachel demanded as she raced through the motorway traffic at a speed that would likely get her pulled over by the cops. Then, of course, he’d have to step in to make sure she didn’t make things worse by opening her mouth. It was one of Benson Security’s standard operating procedures for anyone who had the misfortune of being a passenger in her car.
You had to love a business that had company guidelines for dealing with a boss who enjoyed breaking traffic rules.
“Stop smiling like that,” Rachel snapped. “It’s disturbing.”
He did his best to appear somber. “We need to get our story straight before we reach your parents’ house.”
“What’s there to get straight? Even I know that spies do a better job when they stay as close to the truth as possible. So, we tell Amelia we met at work, and”—she grimaced—“we fell in love.”
“Yeah, say it exactly like that. I’m sure you’ll convince everybody present that your feelings are genuine.”
“I don’t need to convince everyone. Just Amelia. Surely we can work out the details of this farce before we meet everyone else.”
She slid between two cars, barely missing one, and it promptly blared its horn at her. From the look on her face, Harvard would bet she was wishing her Aston Martin was as tricked out as Bond’s so she could fire a rocket at the offender.
“It doesn’t matter that this dinner’s only close family. It doesn’t even matter that most of the people present are in on the lie. This is a chance to establish our story for when other people ask questions. Which we should have been doing today.” Instead, she’d disappeared off the face of the planet and refused to take his calls. “Did you read over the cover information I sent you? We need to be on the same page here.”
She shot him an irritated glance. “Of course, I read it, and our cover story isn’t exactly a stretch to memorize. We met at work. We clicked. We’re getting married. What else is there to say? It’s going to be harder to convince everyone I need a bodyguard. Couldn’t you just turn up at TayFor to visit me? Do you really need to act as my bodyguard to get access to the offices?”
“Rachel, would you ever, under any circumstances, let a lover hang out at the office with you?”
He didn’t need to hear the answer to know what she’d say because, along with every single person on the planet who’d ever spent ten minutes in her company, they both knew the answer was no.
“Perhaps I’ve softened now that I’m betrothed?” She looked a little nauseous.
“Yeah, I can’t see us selling that either. But we can sell the fact that you pissed off some dangerous people during your time at Benson Security, and until the threat they represent disappears, you need a bodyguard. That’s where I enter. Who better to protect you than the man who adores you?” If only that weren’t true.
“I think I vomited a little in my mouth.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
“Are we hiding the fact that you used to work for the CIA?”
“See? That’s the kind of thing we should have talked about today.”
She glared at him.
“Nope,” he said. “We aren’t hiding my past career. It won’t make any difference if they know about it anyway, but let’s lay off the spy references and tell them I was an analyst instead.”
“Does anyone ever believe that?”
“The CIA has hundreds of analysts. Offices full of them. It isn’t a fake job.”