One Night Wife (The Confidence Game 1)

That sounded vaguely threatening in an exciting way. “What am I telling you now?”

He took a second to study her, so she made various faces at him, tongue lolling, eyes crossed, forehead scrunched, bottom lip over her top one. That last one came with a monster sound effect.

“That you should be handled with care,” he deadpanned.

For a man determined not to have a good time, she was mighty suspicious Cal was enjoying himself.

He sat on the edge of the desk facing her. “We need to talk rules. When we’re in public, you’re my girlfriend. You’re the sweet, considerate kind who won’t drink too much, insult anyone, embarrass me, leave me and go off with my friends, or fuck someone I’m trying to do business with. You’ll be well briefed on who your best targets are and who mine are. The idea is that we’re that lovely, newly-in-love couple who are nice to have around and don’t cause any trouble.”

She put on a pensive face. “It’s a tough role, but I think I can pull it off. How did we meet? Did you try to steal my cab? Did you spill a drink on me? What’s our backstory?”

“You used me to avoid your ex in an Irish pub.”

“We’re going with the truth?”

“Disappointed?”

Not yet, but it was a possibility. “I was expecting something more cloak and dagger.”

“The truth works perfectly well almost all of the time. Lies are easy to uncover and a bother to remember. Besides, we had a meet-cute. Isn’t that what Hollywood calls it? You jumped me, ravished me. It makes an amusing anecdote.”

“Jumped you. I seem to remember you rolled with it. You’re twice my size. I couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do. You let me drag you down a dark alley.”

“You let me take you to a hotel.”

“Where—”

“The fantasy starts. The only thing that’s not real is that people should think we are in a physical relationship.”

God jogging, for once, couldn’t the fantasy be worse than the reality. “What if I told you I was a method actor.”

“I’d say your method is to do what your director”—he pointed at himself—“tells you to do.”

“I have some rules, too.” He wasn’t getting this all his own way and she’d had time to think this through.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Let’s hear them.”

“I don’t want to worry Lenny. I don’t want her wondering what the heck is going on with us. She’s already bugging out about the money. As far as she’s concerned, we’re dating with all that entails.” Both his brows jumped. “Friends with benefits. We’re fucking.”

“Got it. How will Lenny take our inevitable break up?”

“She’ll hold my hair when I get sick from drinking too much. And anyway, that’s none of your concern.”

“I agree to that. What else?”

“You can’t do anything to embarrass me. No pawing at me.”

“Have I ever pawed at you?”

“Unfortunately, only that once. Right before you dumped me with a hotel room. No letting anyone else paw at me. No making awful jokes at my expense, belittling me or putting me down, abusing or abandoning me anywhere I can’t get home. No putting me in any danger. No—Oh.”

He took her shoulders in his hands. “Finley. I won’t let you get hurt. I won’t humiliate you or compromise your honor or treat you in any way that would make you feel uncertain, scared, or pissed off. If you’re truly worried I’m going to put you at risk, we shouldn’t

do this.”

Looking directly into his violently blue eyes was like being hypnotized. Resist. “That’s what all the axe-murderer, organ-harvesting, white-slave-trader, fake boyfriends say.”

He shifted away. “I’ll admit to fake boyfriend, but otherwise, violence is not my modus operandi. I do a great fake boyfriend. I’m simply not built for anything more and not with a colleague.”