Faking It to Making It

“You think I have nice skin?” he asked, his voice dropping a notch.

Her head tilted, as if she was considering answering. Fearlessness won. “I think you could do with some ruffling.”

“Ruffling?”

“You’re so clean-cut. Even your background is pristine. No parking tickets.”

“I fob those off on my driver.”

She laughed—a husky sound he felt as a tightening in his gut.

“No restraining orders.”

All she got for that was a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve taken out three. Two of them against the same guy.”

Again Nate found himself sideswiped by the sudden urge to tear a complete stranger limb from limb. Time to call this meeting over. He pointed a hand towards the door. She hitched her bag and headed that way.

“You’ve clearly been dating the wrong kind of men.”

“Tell me about it.”

He got a knowing grin over her shoulder for his efforts.

“I certainly have a type.”

“What type is that?” he asked.

She thought about it a moment, her mouth twisting. “Men with needs I can’t help but fulfil.”

He gripped the doorjamb to stop himself from fulfilling his own rabid need to dive his hands into her hair and ravish that mouth till she could no longer feel her legs.

When she hitched up her big bag again Nate slid a finger under the strap and tucked it over his own shoulder instead. Then he stepped through the door, dragged in a lungful of air filled with the scent of cleaning product and money and inside his head started listing stock exchange codes...alphabetically.

“Anyway, that’s by the by,” she said, smiling at his assistant as they passed by her desk. “I’m with you now.”

Nate’s assistant raised her eyebrows at Nate, who mouthed, Get back to work.

They walked companionably towards the lift. Nate nodded to any staff they passed, each one casting glances at Saskia, no doubt desperate to know who she was. He wondered if any thought they might be a couple.

“How about you?” Saskia added as they hit the vast foyer.

Nate put a hand to her back to ease her around the scattered chairs. “Do I intend to fulfil your needs?”

“Identifying marks,” she said with a smile.

For once it didn’t seem too much to ask. “I have an appendix surgery scar and a birthmark on my inner thigh.”

“Shape?” she asked.

Her eyes slanted to his lap. Nate had never had cause to wonder about death by abstinence, but in that moment he was beginning to imagine the possibility.

“Texas,” he lied, and thanked God when her eyes shot back to his. “Kidding. It’s roundish.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

The lift door opened and she held out her hand. He was half a second from taking it, using it to drag her in for one last kiss, before he realised she wanted her bag back.

He waited till the lift was clear bar anyone but her before saying, “So, next is my family lunch on Sunday.”

Her shoulders flicked to her ears. “Nervous?”

“Not a bit,” he said as the lift doors began to close.

“Liar.” She grinned.

His laughter continued even when he was looking at nothing but the lift door.

“So that’s your date?”

Nate turned to find Gabe leaning against the reception counter, his eyes on the lift. Nate made a beeline for his office, not keen on having this conversation in the foyer.

“Not what I expected,” said Gabe, falling into step.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Not a thing. She just seemed...normal.”

And even though Nate knew he was being baited he rose to it before he could stop himself. “What she is is cool. And funny. And mouthy.” He pictured her standing in his window, hands on her hips, opened to the city view, the light shining through her clothes. “But mostly she’s got this level of contentment I never even knew was possible.”

“I think Nate has a crush on his pretend girlfriend.”

Nate shook his head. “What Nate has is a contract to read for the third time.”

Gabe winked at Nate’s assistant, who giggled like a schoolgirl, then stopped in the office doorway, grinning. Nate pointed a sharp finger at his business partner. “You’re going to Vegas.”

“I am?” Gabe asked, standing straighter, his dark eyes shining with thoughts of treasure.

“With Bamford Smythe.”

“The hell I am.”

“He likes M&M’S. You’re taking him to Vegas and getting him a private tour of M&M’S World. And when he’s nice and high on chocolate fumes we’re getting the nitty-gritty of this damn deal locked in.”