“Yes. Well, kind of. You need a fake wife.”
He chuckled. “It seems I do. And I have no idea where the hell I’m going to find one. Do you have any ideas for me? Know any actress friends?”
“How about I solve your difficulty and pose as your wife?” she said indignantly.
He shot her the sexiest smile on the planet. He was sure she felt weak in the knees. “You would consider the job?”
“Yes sir. I would.”
“Why? When you work here.”
“I’m having some, um, money problems. And it would really help me get back on track.”
He looked her up and down. “You would be a wonderul candidate, I assure you that. But...” He paused in thought. “I feel like I’d be taking advantage of an employee and that might be improper. I won’t be engaging a current or past employee for a personal matter. It’s a matter of professional ethics.”
“Professional ethics? Kind of rich from a guy who’s going to pay a fake wife. I guess faking a marriage isn’t unprofessional?”
“It’s a professional necessity at this point. I assure you, I wouldn’t seek a wife for any other reason than expedience.”
“So you’re a true romantic,” she said sarcastically. If only it didn’t sound so alluring when she said it with a roll of her eyes. They were brown, dark as coffee like her hair.
She was beautiful, he decided. The sort of apple-cheeked prettiness that he’d liked as a teenager on the rare occasions when his prep school got to consort with the nearby girls’ academy. Fresh-faced and ponytailed, she could’ve been his fantasy at seventeen. But she was too sharp-witted to be the adoring cheerleader he’d dreamed of then. She was the sort of woman described as feisty, a handful, a firecracker.
He rubbed his chin. “I’m sure I’m every bit as romantic as the average man of voting age. It’s a notion one tends to outgrow, or at least men do.”
“I’m not holding on to any illusions myself. I don’t sit around watching those Hallmark channel Christmas movies and crying into my cat’s fur.”
“You have a cat though,” he smirked, deciding she was a single lonely heart with probably two cats—so they wouldn’t be lonely while she was at work.
“No. No pets. How about you? Secretly adore your yellow lab? Or are you more of a cactus man?” she teased.
“I never had any desire for either. I do own a racing stable in Surrey, so that may count as pet keeping,” he said.
He was baiting her, knowing she’d say something about nurturing or companionship or how it was barbaric to raise animals for sport. Luke wasn’t sure why he wanted her to rise to the occasion, why, indeed, that he kept her talking at all. He should dismiss her. But the air crackled with something lively and invigorating between them. He wasn’t sure if it was mere attraction or if it was the sheer novelty of finding someone interesting. Luke was accustomed to being completely bored in virtually every conversation.
Her eyes twinkled as he peered at her. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“A high-ranking executive who is with the in crowd.”
“I’m Luke Conners.”
The color in her face drained as she looked down at the folders with his name on them. “Oh, shit.”
This was Luke Conners, the playboy grandson of the old CEO. She’d had listened to the CEO discussing his problems with a publicist. And then propositioned him. Oh dear! Not her best moment.
He sighed. “That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. I was hoping you’d be at least a little bit impressed.”
“No, I’m impressed. I am! But I had no idea I just proposed to my boss.”
“Fake proposed.”
She took a deep breath. “Sir, I am so sorry. I don’t usually do stuff like this. And I asked if I could be the CEO’s wife. What is wrong with me?”
“Fake wife. Can’t emphasize that enough.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You said that. Listen, it’s okay. It’s natural to panic after the proposal. And I’m thinking next time you could get on one knee, maybe even make it over-the-top. Boy, you talk about me not being romantic.”