“I’m not comfortable lying about being your fiancée.”
Simon must have heard capitulation in her voice because he nodded. “But you’ll do it.”
“I’ll do it, but under one condition.”
With her answer, his grin bloomed, roguish and compelling. “Done.”
His quick agreement worried her. What was she getting into? She knew nothing about this man. Why had she let him entice her to stay and listen? No matter how attractive the man or desperate his circumstances, she was crazy to get caught up in his family drama. She should run out the door, jump on the elevator and not look back until she reached home. What he proposed activated every alarm in her body, but the notion of being able to finish school on time messed with all practical thought.
Or maybe she was so exhausted she’d rationalize anything if it meant taking a two-week, all-expense paid vacation. Didn’t she deserve a little rest and relaxation? She’d return from the holiday rested and refreshed. No more worrying how she was going to scrape together enough to pay the rent on her crappy studio apartment, eat and pay tuition. It was like being sprung from jail on a technicality.
“Don’t you want to ask me what my condition is?”
“I can’t imagine it’s too outrageous.”
Okay, so she was conservative by nature. Besides, her life hadn’t afforded her the luxury of taking risks and making impulsive decisions. No need to feel resentful that Simon had assumed she wouldn’t demand something excessive.
“I will take your money, but only as a loan. I’m going to pay you back everything, with interest. Okay?”
“Yes to the loan. No to the interest.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
She hesitated before putting her hand into his. As a law student, she knew a handshake and a verbal agreement were binding. Every instinct screamed at her to turn him down. “Deal.”
“Here’s my business card. Call me after your last class, and we’ll make plans for the trip.”
She stared at the card to avoid meeting his gaze. Beneath Simon’s name embossed on the expensive cream vellum were gold letters that read: President and Owner Ho
lcroft’s Fine Wines. She noted the website, intending to check out the company when she reached home. Ever since she began cleaning the condo, she’d developed an overactive curiosity about its owner. Meeting him tonight, especially in such an unorthodox manner, had raised as many questions about him as it had answered.
“I hope you realize how much I appreciate you helping me out,” he said, rousing her from her musing.
She’d been so consumed by her thoughts she hadn’t noticed they’d stepped into the hall and now stood before the elevator. The familiar weight of her backpack tugged at her right shoulder. She clutched her law book to her chest like a shield.
Simon’s wide, muscular chest filled her vision, the sort of raw masculinity that tempted a girl to forget about studying for final exams. Strong, persuasive impulses erupted. Unnerved by her body’s acute and persistent joy at his proximity, she took a half step backward, discovered a wall behind her and realized she had nowhere to run. Her heart tripped, steadied, then tripped again as he offered her a knowing grin. He recognized his effect on her. No doubt seduction came as easily to Simon Holcroft as walking.
She jabbed at the Down button, noticing too late he’d already called the elevator. “I hope you realize what an insane idea this is.”
“It’s going to buy me a peaceful holiday with my family. I’m not going to stay silent forever. I just want to pick the right moment.”
He looked so damned satisfied now that she’d agreed to help him. She couldn’t leave without reminding him that this situation could go very wrong.
“I hope your family doesn’t find out you’re lying to them.”
His amusement dimmed, throwing shadows over the bright blue of his eyes. He tapped her law book where it rested against her chest. The vibration passed through two cardboard covers and five hundred pages and made her nipples contract.
“If we do this right, they’ll never know.”
* * *
Simon pinched the bridge of his nose to distract from the pounding in his temples as his mother’s voice poured from the speakerphone and surged over him like class-five rapids.
Elizabeth Holcroft stood five feet, three inches tall and weighed all of a hundred and ten pounds. A dainty package of Southern graciousness, she managed her family with ruthlessness wrapped in ruffles.
“I just had lunch with Minnie Gervase,” his mother said. “She is planning a little get-together for the Thursday after Christmas. She said her daughter’s in town for the holidays and would love to see you. You remember her, don’t you? She’s the face of Eden Cosmetics.”
“Vaguely.” Simon summoned a memory of an ultrathin woman who looked as if she’d blow away in a good wind.
Since he’d turned thirty, his mother had become obsessed with seeing him married and producing the next generation of Holcrofts. In theory, he didn’t disagree with the goal, just the urgency. Every visit she found new ways to put women in his path.