Mister Fake Fiance

“Cut it out,” David says with a good-natured laugh.

I nod and smile, since there isn’t any other option, but I wish I could shrink down until nobody could see me. Don’t we have to start the meeting? Talk about marketing stuff? This is really awkward, especially since most people never pay attention to me in meetings. David’s always the star.

Feeling so many gazes, I try to look as radiant as possible, the way a happily engaged woman should. But I’m dreading what they’ll say when the engagement quietly ends in three months.

I really should’ve thought things through more carefully.

Chapter Twenty-One

Erin

For dinner, we pick up Chinese, since we had Italian last night. I offered to whip something up, but David declined…rather forcefully, it seemed to me.

“We’re tired after work. There’s no reason for you to cook. Really. I know a great Chinese takeout. My treat.”

“But I’m imposing on you by staying at your place,” I said. “Dinner would be something nice for me to do for you…”

“No! No, no. Ridiculous. You’re my fiancée, not my cook. And I most certainly didn’t agree to the engagement to have you feed me. Please. I feed my guests, not the other way around. Hospitality. It matters.”

Maybe David’s just old-fashioned about stuff like this. Is it just the way he is, or was it his upbringing? His mom seems pretty laid-back and modern, but I’m certain she had a ton of influence in his becoming the man he is now.

But I also wonder just how much he loved Shelly that he became such a player after breaking up with her. She’s really pretty. And so self-assured! I kind of want to look her up, but at the same time kind of don’t. It’s wrong and unprofessional. How would I feel if David Googled the few exes I have?

Violated and annoyed. That’s how. So I should stick to the Golden Rule.

We arrive back at his place and split the food. He has Peking duck and crab fried rice; I have shrimp and veggies in a rich black sauce and sweet-and-sour soup.

He offers me wine, and I accept a glass of white. Some Chardonnay from Napa. Since it comes from his collection, it’s probably going to be good.

I watch him twist the corkscrew in, forearm muscles flexing like tiny bridge cables under his skin. It’s somehow mesmerizing. I never thought a male forearm could look this enthralling.

Then there’s the quiet concentration on his face as he pinches his eyebrows. My index finger itches with the need to reach over and rub the furrowed spot. Not because I want to undo the frown, but just because I want to feel the bare skin of his face. I want to know if it’s as soft as it looks.

My fingertip between his eyebrows wouldn’t appear intimate or bold. Definitely not sexual, either.

Nor would it be professional.

A flutter of nerves passes through my belly, and my cheeks and neck feel warmer.

I squirm. Stomach cramps and PMS, I decide. Must be. Why would it be anything else, even if he does look unbelievably hot under the kitchen lights?

A soft pop jerks me out of my reverie. He has the cork out of the bottle and sets it aside, then pours me a full glass.

I take a quick sip to cool my body. But it doesn’t seem to work very well. I take another, then wonder if we’re going to talk, and if so, what we should talk about.

Something not too personal.

So I bring up a presentation we’re doing for a new advertiser tomorrow as we eat. David goes along, probably because it’s on his mind, too.

The marketing team has spent so much time and energy working on wooing this particular account from Korea. The Ivy Foundation is a charitable organization that funds education for aspiring classical musicians. Currently it’s offering scholarships to over fifty students. The person in charge—Yuna Hae—wants to use our app’s video capability to have the students who are accepting money from the foundation post their performances, and use that to promote her foundation’s mission and expand its reach to more would-be musicians. Based on our demographics and technology, she thinks our app will be a good fit.

“I already double-checked everything,” I say, then finish the last sip of wine. “But I’ll check again tomorrow so nothing goes wrong.”

“Thanks,” David says. “It’s a big deal, and Alexandra’s watching it closely.”

“But why? It isn’t like the foundation’s offering the most money.” We have other corporate advertisers that spend more than the Ivy Foundation. And since Alexandra isn’t doing it for free, I presume her motive isn’t charity, either.

“It’s the market,” he explains. “Our app is the second most downloaded in its category in Korea.” He takes a big bite of fried rice.