“I have a proposal for you,” she said.
I regarded her. “Did someone send one over? What industry is if for? I’ll assign it to one of the project managers.”
“Not a company proposal,” she said. “It’s a proposal between us.”
“And here I thought you weren’t going to have anything interesting to say this morning,” I murmured.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What’s the proposal for?”
“Marry me.” Her gaze was steady.
“Excuse me?” I said after a moment of silence.
“I need a husband, immediately, before my half sister gets married.”
“I’m not involving myself in petty female games,” I growled. For some reason, I felt almost hurt, but I squashed it. I had thought maybe Avery and I were, well, not friends, but friendly, like we had an understanding.
“It’s not petty female games.” She huffed, shifting on the edge of the desk. “Which is rich coming from someone who squabbles like a toddler with his brothers.”
“I don’t squabble.”
“You do,” she countered. “No, this isn’t about that, this is about business and spite and money. Surely a man like you could understand that.” The last part was said in an ironic drawl. I didn’t know if she was making fun of me or what.
“Why can’t you find someone on Craigslist?” I suggested.
Avery barked a laugh. “I need a husband so my grandmother will give me a mansion and five acres in Harrogate worth eight million dollars. She said that one of us could buy it off of her, but it’s not like I have the money for that lying around, so marriage it is. If I married Joe Blow from Tinder, he would insist on part of the house in the divorce.”
“And you think I wouldn’t?” I steepled my hands and leaned back in my chair, enchanted by the audacity of her request. Not that I would do it, of course. Men like me didn’t become involved in fake relationships. I wondered why she didn’t auction off that watch of hers. Because it was such a rare antique, she could sell it and still have enough to pay for renovations.
“Since you didn’t immediately fire me,” Avery said, breaking through my thoughts, “I’m assuming that means you are considering my offer.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll give you anything you want. I have to have that house.”
My eyes flicked briefly to the bare skin at the hem of her skirt, then back up to her face. She didn’t seem nervous, just determined.
“What if I ask for something you don’t want to give?”
She shrugged. “I have done a lot of things I regret. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for the house.”
“Yes, I supposed someone who lies on their resumé would live her life by that philosophy.”
She jerked back. “How did you know?”
“Please,” I scoffed. “You didn’t try that hard to cover your tracks. The number of one of your references was that of a man who slept with a bartender at a company holiday party you were attending.”
She huffed. “Then why didn’t you fire me?”
“You were interesting.”
She glared at me. “So what can I give you in exchange for being my fake husband?”
I looked at her, perched on my desk. My brothers didn’t think I could get a girlfriend, fake or otherwise. Then there was the watch. Would she give it to me? Which meant more to her, the house or the watch?
“It just so happens,” I said, “that I myself am in the market for a fake girlfriend. The Harris & Schultz CEO is family oriented. We need to show that ThinkX is too.”
