Mister Fake Fiance

“If you aren’t sure, just buy one of each.” He gives me a sleepy smile and leaves.

I rub my forehead. He’s right about these products being personal. They go flush against sensitive areas. Would a woman want just any old dick near her lady parts? It’s the same principle.

I start to grab one of each, minus the scented kind. At least Cora helped me narrow the field down a little. Then I realize maybe I need a cart, but I don’t feel like walking back to the front of the store to get one. So I make a huge stack, balancing the lot against my chest.

Satisfied, I make my way carefully to the register. One very large woman sees me and tracks me with her eyes as I walk past. I check myself out, then get two bags so I can carry everything.

When I arrive home and go upstairs, Erin’s door is open. She’s up, waiting for me, with her hands on her arms. She keeps pulling in her lips, then biting the lower one in her typical nervous gesture.

I place the bags on the bed.

Her eyes widen.

I pull the boxes out one by one. “Sport in case you want to exercise. Fitness in case these serve some other, uh, sporty function. Security because hey, with all those reporters around, right? Radiant in case you want to, you know…glow. Pearl for if you want…” I trail off. Pearl? Are these, like, those strings of sex beads? I clear my throat. “Anyway, Pearl for when you feel, uh, smooth and pearly. Pads without wings…and with wings if you need, I don’t know, aerial support. And nine brands of panty liners if you want a secondary defense in case the primary defense fails.”

Erin doesn’t say a word. She just stares at me, eyes wide. Probably impressed with how thorough I am. Hell, I’m impressed. “Hopefully this will have you covered,” I say, confident that it does.

“Wow. Um. Yeah. Thank you. You really didn’t have to buy so many. Let me give you money.”

I wave her ridiculous offer away. “No, no, glad to help.” Her gratitude is more than enough. “Anyway, good night, Erin.”

Shoulders straight and chest out, I return to my room, feeling like Alexander the Great after conquering both Persia and the Gordian Knot.

Chapter Twenty

Erin

I’m up early the next morning. The strange bed makes it hard for me to fall asleep and stay that way. I wash my face, put on my work clothes and go downstairs with my purse, which contains several of the tampons David bought.

I still can’t believe he got so many. Or the way he explained why he picked them. It’s obvious he’s never done it before, but it was sweet of him to go to the store for me so late at night. And I appreciate it that he acted like it was no big deal, which did a lot to lessen my embarrassment.

I really need to bake him something special. Hmm. I know brownies sounded like a great idea, but maybe not. It might not be satisfying to have something that isn’t quite as good as what he’s used to. Since he’s going to have his mom’s in three weeks, maybe I should make something else. There are a lot of options in the videos he bought me.

He hasn’t come down to the kitchen yet, so I start the coffeemaker. I look in the fridge, wondering if it’ll give me some clues as to what he eats for breakfast. But no. Just some soft drinks, beer and the leftover pizza from yesterday.

“You hungry?”

I start at the question. Straightening, I shut the door and face him. “Oh! Hi. Good morning. I was trying to see what there was for breakfast.”

He presses his lips together. He’s clean-shaven and clean-cut in a pale blue shirt and black slacks. He almost never wears a tie. I thought about getting him

one for his birthday last year, but Jan told me not to. Said he hates them because they feel suffocating. Also, not having a tie makes him look more approachable than some of the other managers.

Now the skin of his throat shows beneath the undone collar. It isn’t even an intimate part of his body, but the view feels erotic, like a nude photo.

I swallow, even though my mouth is utterly dry. Maybe I’m being weird because he’s so close. Normally when we deal with each other in the morning there’s a desk between us.

“Not much, I’m afraid. I usually grab something from the office cafeteria,” David says.

What were we talking about?

“On a day like this, I’d just reheat the pizza.”

I finally remember. “Pizza for breakfast?” I wrinkle my nose. That seems like such a…frat-boy solution, not something I’d expect from my suave billionaire boss.

“It’s awesome,” he says, reinforcing the frat-boy vibe. “Wanna try it?”

I’m skeptical, but his eyes are twinkling with good humor. “Okay, maybe one slice.”