Fake Marriage Box Set

next to Gretchen, as tan as she was. It just wouldn't look right. Blue, on the other hand, might.

I searched through the racks at the shop that Mark brought me to, fingering the material, pleased to find that it fit my standards pretty well. Of course, the material was all a lot thinner than what I'd find back home, but that only made sense given the heat in Hawaii. I didn't want to wear something thick and coarse in 80-degree heat; that would be crazy. It got a little cooler at night, but not that much cooler.

“This is the one,” I said, pulling a navy-colored suit off the rack. “Just need to get it fitted.” I glanced over at Mark. “You might as well pick something out too,” I told him. “My treat. You've been great while I've been here, above and beyond what I would expect from a cab driver.”

Mark raised an eyebrow at me. “Who are you dating tonight: Gretchen or me?” he asked teasingly.

I rolled my eyes. “I don't go that way,” I told him.

I stood still as the seamstress measured me and made some sketches in chalk on the suit. I frowned when I saw Mark was looking at plain black suits, though. “Come on,” I told him. “Unless you have a fucking funeral coming up, when are you ever going to wear a black suit?”

Mark looked over at me, seemingly startled. Poor kid didn't know anything about fashion. I couldn't help rolling my eyes again. “No one wears black suits anymore, man,” I told him. “Grey, or blue, or you're a surfer, you could probably pull off coral jacket even if you wanted to. Just don't go with black, of all things.”

Mark laughed a little, shaking his head ruefully. Then, he bowed ironically. “I defer to your judgment,” he said. Then, he frowned. “But coral pink, man? Seriously?”

I shrugged, much to the dismay of the seamstress. “I mean, probably.”

“What about tan?” Mark asked.

“Boring,” I said, not even having to think about it.

“You don't know the women around here, though,” Mark said.

“And what, you do?” I asked, scoffing a little. It was a tease, but I could see from the expression on Mark's face that he didn't appreciate it.

“Rude, man,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said, only partly sincere. “But seriously, what do I need to know about the women here? Women are women no matter where you are, right?”

“Oh no,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Your New York women are impatient. The New York women who come down here book up their days with massages and beach appointments and they drink all day. It's just not anywhere near the same. Our women here, they're sweet. They're soft.” He paused. “I don't want to tell you this because you're Christian Wall, of course, but know that Gretchen isn’t going to fall into bed with you tonight. That just will not happen.”

I frowned over at him. “Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Mark said, sounding a bit more confident as he saw that I was listening to him. “You can take her to a nice place and everything, and girls like that, they respond well to money. You're going to have no problem impressing her and whatever. But don't expect that to automatically get her into your bed.”

“So, how do you get a sexy Hawaiian girl into your bed?” I asked, even though honestly, I didn't think I needed his advice on the matter.

Mark shrugged, though, looking glad that I'd asked for his opinion. “The thing to remember is that no matter how hot you think Gretchen is, she's just another woman at heart,” he said. “Sure, she's just like other women here, she's independent, and she'll want you to remember that. And she's probably got a stubborn streak. But at the end of the day, the thing to remember is that she isn't so different from other women.”

I laughed. “You sound cynical, Mark,” I observed.

He shrugged eloquently. “I am cynical,” he said, giving me a knowing look.

“The girl you like still isn't putting out for you?” I surmised. I could tell from his grimace that she wasn't. “Come on, get a suit,” I urged. “You can take her out someplace nice at some point, and I'm sure she'll be all over you after that. We all know women love a sharp-dressed man.”

Mark laughed. “I could never afford to take her someplace nice like that,” he said.

I snorted. “Are you asking for a raise?”

“Maybe,” Mark said cheekily, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes but made a mental note of it. It wasn't like I couldn't afford to give him a little extra money, and he was a good driver.

When I got to the restaurant that night, Gretchen was already there and seated. I grinned a little, remembering what Mark had said about her being independent and probably stubborn. I'd probably expect most girls to still be hovering by the door, waiting for me to show up. But not this one.

And I kind of liked that.

I slid into the seat across from her, grinning. “You're looking lovely this evening,” I told her, even though I'd only given her dress a cursory glance.