Fake Marriage Box Set

“Because I thought that you and Janice might want to decorate some cookies and surprise us,” Andrew said, winking over at me.

Emma gave him a long-suffering look. “Daddy, it's not a surprise if you already know about it,” she said matter-of-factly, and I had to stifle a laugh.

“Indeed,” Andrew said, grinning over at me. “Then I guess you're just going to have to think of a new surprise with Janice.”

“Okay!” Emma cried, jumping to her feet and tearing out of the room.

I raised an eyebrow at Andrew. “You're stealing me away for the night?” I asked.

“I figured it had been a while since you'd had some time off from Emma,” Andrew said. “And it's been a while since I did something that wasn't work or hanging out with you and Emma. So, I thought that, just maybe, we might both benefit from an adults-only fun night.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering exactly what he was suggesting. We had barely touched since the night we'd slept together again, and I wasn't sure how to bridge the space that seemed to lurk between us. I wasn't sure what Andrew was thinking, if he didn't want to bridge that space or if he also wasn't sure how. It seemed like he had plans for us tonight, though.

“I made dinner reservations,” he finally elaborated. “It's nothing quite as fancy as our first date. I just wanted something a bit more relaxed. I hope that's okay.”

“That sounds great,” I said. I looked down at my jeans and the old t-shirt that I had on for painting with Emma earlier in the day. “I guess I should shower and get changed.”

“You have plenty of time,” Andrew promised. “Our reservation isn't until seven.”

“Cool,” I said, pushing myself to my feet.

I showered and then stared into my closet, wondering what I should wear. Andrew had said casual, but I knew that when he said “casual,” he didn't mean the sort of casual I would have meant in the same situation. A casual date for him meant that I didn't need to wear a full-length gown, but it definitely didn't mean jeans would be okay.

Fortunately, he'd handed me a credit card and sent me shopping a couple weeks ago, claiming that all my clothes made me look like a homeless person or a college student. That wasn't the kind of role model he wanted for Emma.

I'd been defensive about my clothing at first, but when he pointed out that nearly everything I owned was stained and/or had holes in it, I'd had to admit that he was probably right. I could use a few new outfits. I still felt weird about the outing, but Misty and I had had a lot of fun trying to figure out what kinds of clothes would be appropriate for my style makeover, so I couldn't really complain.

I finally settled on a lacy white shirt and flowing, knee-length green skirt. The skirt hugged my curves, and I figured the outfit as a whole would be appropriate for whatever we were about to do, especially paired with that soft tan cardigan that Misty had picked out and the matching tan oxfords that I'd had forever.

I clipped back my hair and then I bit my lip as I looked at myself in the mirror. I could hardly recognize myself, but it wasn't a bad thing. In fact, I kind of liked it. I only hoped that Andrew was appreciative of my efforts.

When I came hesitantly downstairs, Andrew was waiting in the front hall. His eyes widened as he took in my appearance. “You look really cute,” he told me, pulling me into his arms.

It was the first real touch that I'd had from him in a few days, and I leaned into the hug, smiling easily at him. “Thanks,” I said. “You look good, too.”

And he did, dressed in his khaki shorts and a plaid, button-down shirt, his hair tousled to perfection. The outfit did nothing to obscure the muscles that I'd seen on him the other day when I'd walked in on him. For a moment, I wondered if we even had to go on a date, or if we should just go upstairs and have our way with one another instead.

But Andrew pulled away from our hug and held open the front door for me, leading me out and to his car. We had a nice dinner at a seafood restaurant on the lake, and as promised, the place was nowhere near as fancy as that first date we'd gone on. It was still nice, and the food was great.

It was what came after dinner, though, that really shocked me.

“This isn't the way home,” I commented, looking out the window and then looking quizzically at Andrew.

“No,” he agreed. “Emma's probably already in bed, so there's no reason to head home already. Janice is all right with watching her until midnight.”

I frowned. “What are we going to do until midnight?” I asked.

“You'll see,” Andrew said mysteriously.

We pulled up at the airport, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “You wanted me to learn the history of the Boeing Company?” I asked him.

Andrew laughed. “We're not here for the museum,” he said. “Come on.”

He led me past a line of hangars and out toward the runway, his hand warm at the small of my back. He stopped us in front of a sleek silver jet. “There are some perks to being a billionaire, and this is one of them,” he told me, smiling up at the plane.

I blinked. “You have your own jet?”

Of course, it made sense. I knew that he went to business meetings all around the world. But I supposed I'd picture him flying first-class on standard commercial flights.