Faking It to Making It

Saskia blinked, the meaning of his words coming through slow and sluggish. “You want to do all that...with me?”

His nostrils flared slightly, as if he was weighing his options one last time. Well, to hell with that. She was nobody’s—

“Yes,” he said with a determined nod.

“Right.”

Saskia so wished she had pen and paper at hand as what-ifs, problems and possibilities, questions and escape routes burst inside her head, spearing away into a million tangents.

“But...can’t you just tell your sisters no? Tell them...whatever your problem really is?”

Secret wife? Secret difficulty in the bedroom? Secret identity? She itched to ask.

But when a muscle flickered in Nate’s cheek and a moment later he lifted a thumb to his right temple, she thought best not. Best not tell him his idea was crazy either. Pretend girlfriend. Sheesh! Only he didn’t look crazy. He looked as if he was at the end of his rope.

And just like that the curly tingles in her belly pinged into perfect straight lines.

Could it be possible that Nate Mackenzie needed her after all?

It had been months since she’d felt that flicker of purpose. Just because one man had thrown her benefaction back in her face so cruelly, it didn’t mean she wasn’t damn good at it.

“You’re serious?” she asked.

Nate’s thumb stopped rubbing his temple and he looked her dead in the eye. Saskia tried her very best to not wriggle as all that gorgeous intensity trickled through her like over-carbonated bubbly.

“As serious as a man can be,” he said.

Mr Rita and his boys arrived at that moment, with plates of colourful bruschetta and fat, shiny strips of barbecued calamari and green salad. But, while Saskia usually had to stop herself from leaning over and kissing the plate, her eyes never once left Nate’s.

“Buon appetito!” said Mr Rita.

As one Nate and Saskia said, “Grazie.”

And then they both smiled.

Saskia took a breath. “I’m...” Flabbergasted, bemused, actually considering this? “I don’t know how to put this, but I’m not sure if I can pull it off. You’re—not the kind of man I usually date.”

“You might be surprised to know you’re not the kind of woman I usually date either,” said Nate, laughing as if the world had finally found its natural order.

She kind of wanted to kick him in the shin. In fact...

“Oof!” he said, sitting up and rubbing at the spot.

“Sorry.” She shuffled on her seat, as if that had been her intention the whole time. “So how would this work, exactly?”

“It’s the first Saturday in spring. You free?”

She did the math in her head. “I believe so.”

“That’s how it’s done.” And then he smiled, as if the deal was done. Poor love. He had no idea what he was in for.

Saskia bit into her calamari, enjoyed every succulent drop, before asking, “So, what do I get out of it?”

“Hmm?”

“The deal. You’re getting a girlfriend...” She paused when the guy actually winced at the word.

“What do you want, Saskia?” he asked, charm forming between the words like mercury.

“I want what I wanted from the beginning. To get the low-down on online dating.” But if she could save time, money, by having a guinea pig do it for her...

“Here’s the low down,” said Nate. “It’s as much of a crap shoot as closing your eyes and picking someone out of the phone book. I should know. You’re my seventh.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve asked six other women to pretend to date you?”

His mouth kicked into a smile while his eyes came over all dark and intense, lit with that flicker of heat. “I’ve been on six dates,” he corrected. “I asked only you.”

“Oh.” Well, that was kind of nice. “But I still need first-hand experience for my study—”

He shook his head, his eyes not leaving her. “No dating between now and then. I won’t either. Goes without saying.”

“Good to know. But I was actually going to suggest that maybe you could be the subject of my piece.”

A muscle flickered in his cheek and she wondered how long it would be before he was rubbing at that temple of his again. “Saskia, I’m not talking to you about my dating habits. My private life is just that. Private.”

He looked as if he meant it. But Saskia had always found that men liked talking about themselves. So she wasn’t really worried on that score. She’d find a way to get to the heart of the man—especially if she had a few weeks to do it. At the thought of a few weeks in the company of this man the curls of sensation were back in her belly.