Ian blinks. It’s his turn to look shocked. “You’re serious?”
I pat the paperwork in front of me. “I still want to go through this, and I’m taking you up on your offer of the lawyer. But yeah—I think this makes a lot of sense.”
Since we’re keeping feelings out of this, I won’t go as far as saying Ian’s eyes flood with emotion. But there’s something there that lets me know he’s touched. That he’s really, truly ecstatic.
“This is great,” he says, shuffling the papers into a tidy pile. “Seriously, this means a lot to me.”
“I’m glad.” God, are we going to shake on it? This feels weird, like a business transaction or something, but isn’t that the point? “Maybe we should have a deadline.”
“Deadline?”
“We already agreed to test drive this thing by doing social engagements together,” I say. “So maybe we check back in with each other on a certain date to make sure we’re committed.”
“I’m committed,” he says, folding his hands on the stack of paper. “But yeah, okay. Just to give us both a chance to be sure. What did you have in mind?”
I think about it a moment. “Cassie and Simon’s wedding,” I tell him. “You already agreed to be my date. By then we’ll have a solid sense of whether we’re compatible. Whether this thing will work.”
“Good, yes, that’s good.” He nods, clearly pleased with our agreement. Again, I get the sense he might shake my hand. Like I’ve just sold him a used car. “If both of us aren’t positive this is the right move, we can walk away by that date, no hard feelings.”
“Exactly,” I tell him. “And if we’re still on board then, we move forward. Get a license, set a date, all that jazz.”
“Deal. God, this is great.” There’s that flicker of emotion in his eyes again. Joy, this time, or maybe something a little more melancholy. It’s gone in an instant, and I realize how skilled he’s become at masking it. At shutting off his feelings like he’s tapping the power button on his phone. “Sarah, I’m so?—”
“This cappuccino was supposed to be made with exactly one-third espresso, one-third milk, and one-third soft microfoam.” The woman’s loud voice snaps our attention from this conversation as she marches past our table. “The proportions are all wrong, and I can tell the foam was spooned and not free-poured. What kind of place are you running here?”
I look at Ian and giggle. “Should we call the police?”
He shakes his head morosely. “It’s too big an offense for that. We should go straight for public stoning.”
With the heaviness lifted from our conversation, it’s time to move on to the reason we’re here. “So tell me about this dinner tomorrow. Am I going as your fiancée or your girlfriend or what?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he says. “You’re there as my moral support. And to humanize me.”
“Humanize you?”
“Yes.” Ian looks down, his cocksure attitude slipping just a little. “Apparently the execs at Wyeth Airways have been happy with my work on this contract, but for this COO role, they’re looking for someone who’s not so?—”
He trails off, so I’m forced to guess. “Impersonal? Stoic? Robotic?”
“Thanks.” He grimaces, but I can tell he’s not really hurt. “See, this is another reason I need a wife. Who else would be able to finish my sentences like that?”
I grin and do a little hand-flip to urge him to continue. “Come on, tell me who I’ll be meeting.”
“The CEO and the CFO,” he says. “And their respective spouses.”
“Oooh, do I get to play the Stepford wife?” I rub my hands together as I imagine myself charming the other ladies with my chit-chat about banana bread and—actually, I have no idea what I’d talk about. I’m not much of a Stepford wife. “We can make bathroom runs together, me and the other corporate wives. We’ll swap stories about the best places in town for manicures.”
Ian smirks. “Your preconceived marital stereotypes are showing.”
“What do you mean?”
“The CEO is a woman,” he says. “Her name is Dana Peschka, and she was named one of the top female entrepreneurs by Oregon Business Magazine last year. And her husband is a stay-at-home father to their triplet daughters.”
“Oh.” Okay, now I feel like a narrow-minded idiot. Of course CEOs can be female. That was an asshat assumption on my part. “She sounds impressive.”
“She is, but she’s terrifying. In the two weeks I’ve known her, I’ve never once seen her smile.”
“Maybe you’re not that charming,” I tease.
