Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth fell open. “Why?”

“Why you or why do I need a fake girlfriend?”

“Both.”

“Why I want you is easy.” I shifted so that my leg bumped hers and I reached out and flipped the ends of her dark hair. “Because I want you. We have chemistry that is very believable.” I eyed her lips. I really wanted to kiss her.

She bit her bottom lip, further enticing me. “There is truth to that. But why do you need to lie to your parents?”

“Because they are obsessed with me being in a relationship and my father is threatening to fire me if I don’t produce a girlfriend. I can’t let that happen. I’ve worked my ass off at the company.”

“That seems very manipulative,” she murmured. “On their part, I mean.”

“Very. My parents’ anniversary party is next weekend. We would go up Friday and come back Sunday.” I ran my hand down her bare arm. “You’d have to, you know, kiss me and pretend to like me. Share my room. The usual.”

“I see.” She glanced back at the stage. “No.”

Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact. It took me a second to realize she was rejecting my offer. “What? Why?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not an escort. You should hire one. I’m sure there are reputable escort services that men like you know about.”

I’d offended her and I hadn’t meant to do that. The accidental vibrator delivery definitely hadn’t helped plead my cause. “I don’t want an escort. I want an actress. I know you’re an excellent one and I happen to like you, Leah.”

Leah studied me. “I can’t spend a weekend with you, pretending to be your girlfriend and having sex with you, for money, without feeling weird about it.”

Okay, so that had come across all wrong. Time to change tactics. Give the control to her. “I made no assumption sex was part of the deal. It’s only two nights and we’ll be in my parents’ house.” We could have sex when we got back to Manhattan and I was no longer paying her because I had already tossed out the window the idea that I could resist Leah indefinitely. But for a weekend? I could manage to keep my hands to myself. Self-discipline. It’s my middle name. “I solemnly swear I won’t have sex with you so as not to complicate the situation.”

She frowned.

“That way you can take a paycheck for pretending that you would be crazy enough to commit yourself to me. It could

be the role of a lifetime. Challenging enough to be worthy of a Tony.” I gave her a charming smile and pulled the contract I’d had written up out of the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “At least consider it.”

Leah opened the tri-folded contract and made a sound in the back of her throat. “This is a very generous pay rate.”

“It’s because it’s not easy to date a bossy guy like me. Even if it’s fake.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “You are bossy.”

“A leader.”

She rolled her eyes. “So what would my role be? Are you the reluctant bachelor to my clinging stalker?”

That sounded way too much like real life with previous relationships for me to enjoy that.

I wanted Leah, as Leah. Sassy, flirty, fuck-with-me-a-little Leah. “Hell no. I’m supposed to be very into you and you’re supposed to adore me.” I gave her a smile. “Hence the acting. It’s not easy to adore me.”

That’s where Grant was wrong. So very, very wrong. He was actually very easy to adore and I imagined he had plenty of women in real life vying for his attention. So why did he want to hire a fake girlfriend to appease his parents? He could have a real girlfriend in a heartbeat.

I tried to picture spending a weekend with Grant and his family in the Hamptons and couldn’t quite imagine it. It sounded both amazing and horrible all at the same time. “Am I supposed to be me or someone else?”

“You’d be Leah but you can’t be an actress or they might catch on to what is happening. So we’d have to create an identity for you as close to the truth as possible.”

I could do that. Easily. But I wasn’t sure it was wise. It had the potential to get very complicated because well, I was still hot for Grant. No question about that.

I glanced at the figure he had in the paperwork. One weekend would pay my rent for six months. I bit my lip. I had told myself no. That Grant was far too tempting and far too rich for me to get involved with him.

But this wasn’t getting involved. This was a job. With a man I was deeply attracted to and had already lifted my poodle skirt for. Or allowed him to lift my poodle skirt. Still. It was just an insanely high-paying job that would require me to spend three days in the lap of luxury in the Hamptons, which I’d never been to. Not exactly a hardship.