‘Good.’ He pins me in another pensive stare. ‘What do you need me to do?’
Oh my. What I need him to do, and what I want him to do are two completely different matters. Because even though my original illusions about Mr Suave Suit Guy have been shattered, my delinquent brain is conjuring up a magnitude of smoking hot new ones.
I squeeze my thighs together and will away the want that’s curling round my core. ‘I need you to come to a company event with me next week and pretend to my family that we’re dating. And that it’s serious.’
He contemplates it for a second and offers a curt nod.
May as well lay out all my cards on the table. I shoot him my brightest megawatt grin. ‘I also need you to come to my brother’s wedding with me next month.’
‘I’m allergic to weddings.’ He scoffs.
‘And I’m allergic to ex-girlfriends who are going to want to claw my eyes out when they see me with their baby daddy.’ I singsong.
‘Fair point.’ Those huge shoulders dip in a reluctant shrug.
‘I should mention that the wedding is a four-day event on a remote island.’ My smile remains firmly in place like a shield as I brace myself for the reaction I already know is coming.
‘Talk about self-indulgent. Who thinks I’ve got four days to give up for a goddamn wedding?’ He shakes his head with obvious disgust.
A tiny laugh tinkles out of my lips. ‘A Hollywood celebrity, of course. Your research clearly didn't extend to my family members, I see.’
‘I only had ten minutes in the taxi. My priority was to make sure you weren’t a serial killer with a track record of luring men to fancy bars before seducing and killing them.’ He’s joking, I think. But he still doesn’t crack a smile.
‘Look, can you do it or not? I have a lot riding on this.’ Like proving to my entire family that I’m not entirely incompetent when it comes to dating, and that Nate’s investment in my business is a solid one.
Cillian exhales a heavy breath and rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll do it. December’s usually a quiet month for me. Most couples wait until after Christmas before filing for divorce.’
‘How romantic.’ I beam, clapping my hands together sarcastically. ‘Do we have a deal?’
‘Deal. But do you have to be so goddamn smiley all the time? Your teeth are blinding me.’ He extends one huge hand again, and against my better judgement, I take it. That invisible circuit short cuts between us again. Sparks ignite and burst into flames beneath my skin. The smile freezes on my face.
This time it’s me who rapidly retracts. ‘It takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile.’
‘Huh.’ Cillian’s expression is deadpan. ‘So, what now?’
‘We should probably go on a couple of non-date dates to get to know each other, if we’re going to pull this off properly.’ It’s imperative that I convince my family this is real. Given that the man looks like he’s just stepped out of a modelling shoot, it shouldn't be too hard. But I know nothing about him. Other than we’d never cut it as a couple in the real world.
‘But we need to lay out a few ground rules.’ His eyes bore into mine with a depth that makes me want to dive into them.
‘Okay … shoot.’ I drag my gaze back to my drink.
‘No touching.’
‘I come from a family where PDAs are massively encouraged. And not so public displays of affection are discussed over dinner. Right down to the most minute details.’
‘Course you do.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll hold your hand, maybe. But no kissing. No funny business.’
Does he think I’m going to throw myself at him? Pleeaassse! Well, I might have done before I found out he’s the most cynical divorce daddy in Dublin.
‘And whatever you do, don’t actually fall in love with me, okay?’ He drains his whiskey.
Big headed. Much? ‘Honey, I don’t even like you, so don’t worry your handsome head about the other L word.’
‘You think I’m handsome, though.’ There’s a slight smugness to his tone.
‘As my mother always says, “there’s many a good-looking bastard out there”.’ I down the rest of my cocktail and stand. ‘I’ll be in touch to arrange a date.’
‘One second.’ Thick fingers circle my wrist, bringing it to his face. He takes a slow deep inhale before rubbing it against his neck in a motion that sets my soul alight.
