“Never heard of him.” Helen eyed the silver platters of leftover food, her mouth watering and her stomach growling. “Has everyone gone now?”
“As far as I know.”
“If that food is going to waste, can I have some? I’m starving!” She’d been too nervous about her court appearance to eat breakfast this morning and all she’d eaten the night before were the strawberries she’d picked from the garden. No wonder the wine had gone straight to her head. “I really need to sober up before my brother comes.”
Liz looked unsure. Helen opened her mouth to tell her to forget it, but Liz rummaged in the box and handed her a badge. “Take this in case you bump into Pencil Neck. You can be Cassie Phillips. She didn’t turn up. If anyone asks, say you were running late and bring the food back here. No one will see you eat in that corner booth over there.”
“I won’t get you into trouble, will I?”
“Not if you’re quick.”
“Amazing!” Helen thanked her and pinned the badge to her chest. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She hopped off the barstool, tottered off on her heels as fast as her wine-fueled legs could carry her, and a few seconds later, began piling her plate with breaded chicken, potato salad and prawn toast. If only she had a container with her, she could take the rest away and live off this food for a week! Helen stuffed a mini quiche into her mouth, answering any odd looks from the staff with a thrust of her chest to show off her badge. They turned away, leaving her in peace to victoriously scoff a stuffed olive.
Delicious.
Free booze and a free meal, what an unexpected silver lining to a crappy day! Stress eased away from her shoulders and she popped another olive into her mouth, debating whether or not she could carry the whole plate of hors d’oeuvres back to the bar area.
“I’m so glad you made it.”
The masculine voice behind her made her choke. Helen gulped and turned, and came face-to-chest with a man—a very tall, very broad man. Her gaze shifted up, past wide shoulders and a clean-shaven jaw to rest on a pair of dreamy-blue eyes. They were zoned in solely on her.
“I was getting worried when you didn’t answer your phone,” the beefcake was saying in a soft, rounded accent. He shook her hand, ignoring the large plate of food she held in the other. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cassie.”
Cassie?
Oh, shit.
Helen glanced down at the name badge pinned to her left breast, but as she opened her mouth to explain, a lean, narrow-faced man in a hotel uniform entered the room.
Pencil Neck!
He smiled, his wide grin making his features look even narrower. “I see your guest has arrived at last.”
“She sure has.” Mr. Beefcake rocked satisfactorily on his heels as Helen recalled what Liz had said about a Canadian swimmer.
Her stomach dropped. “You must be Sebastian Clarke.”
He smiled, showing even white teeth and dimples. “What gave it away?”
My shitty luck, of course.
Chapter 2
Sebgrabbedaplateand loaded it with food. He hadn’t gotten a chance to eat much during the conference because he’d been too busy meeting financiers, reporters and event organizers.
In fact, since touching down on British soil very late last night, Seb had barely slept, let alone eaten, and had spent the past hour—while waiting for Cassie to show up—pacing the hotel’s courtyard, figuring out how to explain that hisgirlfriendhad stood him up on day frickin’ one.
Not that anyone on the Get Living Campaign knew this was the first time Seb had met Cassandra Phillips. Seb hated lying—especially to Michael—but,man, he needed this job after that crazy incident in Vegas last month!
He now had six weeks to prove to his sponsors, Strive Sportswear, that he wasn’t the drunken, womanizing douchebag the media had made him out to be—and the best way to do that? Promote health and fitness by working as a sports ambassador—a sports ambassador who was in a steady, committed relationship.
All Seb needed for Operation Fake-Girlfriend was a charming and sophisticated woman. Someone who looked good on his arm, was capable of polite dinner conversation, and who would then fade into the background when it was time for him to return home and continue with his training.
So, enter Cassie Phillips, an Oxford University librarian. Seb’s best friend Jimmy had worked with her last year while on another of his summer study programs. With less than twenty-four hours’ notice, Jimmy had made the introductions via email, but hadn’t been able to send any photos, so today was the first time Seb saw what she looked like.
First impressions?
