Page 32 of The Image of You

She sighed. “Yes. I told you we dated.”

“Did you like it?”

She shook her head. “There was nothing there—no spark.” She took in a deep breath. “I didn’t feel the way I do when you kiss me.”

“Which is?”

“Like I never want you to stop.”

“Good answer,” I huffed, still annoyed, yet finding my anger dissipating in the face of her explanation.

“How long ago did you start going out?”

“About seven months ago.”

“So, you’ve been fake dating him for seven months?”

She shook her head, peering up at me with an impish grin. “No, I played hard to get, so we’ve only ‘fake dated’ for about four months.”

My lips twitched. She wanted me to laugh with her and see how simple this was. Two friends helping each other.

“Was this your idea?”

“No, he suggested it. I thought it was a bad idea, which is why it took a while for me to agree. But he was right. My mother, Ronald, and his dad backed off. It’s made things easier for me.”

“Why him? Because he’s a doctor? The right kind of people?” I sneered.

“He comes from old money, yes. Just like Ronald. His father is well-known and respected.” She sighed. “It’s the sort of match he approves of.”

“In other words, he gets something out of it too.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t like it. I get it…but I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why do they want you married off so badly?”

“Then I’m not their responsibility anymore. They know there’s a good chance Bradley will move to another city at some point—he has his sights set to go out west. They can ignore me completely then because I’ll be someone else’s problem.” She shrugged. “Out of sight, out of mind. Any embarrassment I cause, they can blame on someone else. It’s all about image with them. If it weren’t, Ronald would have turned his back a long time ago.”

It was also about control and punishing her, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

I crushed her to me, holding her tight. “You’re not a problem or something to be given away. Stop thinking like that.”

She clung to my waist. “Not to you.”

I held her for a long time. When I pulled back, I stroked her cheek. “Friday night, then? Or better yet, would you come here after your lunch?”

“I’ll probably sleep.”

“That’s fine. I can watch you sleep.”

“Pervert,” she mouthed with a grin.

“When it comes to you, definitely.” I caressed the back of her neck, kneading the tense muscles. “But I don’t want to wait until Friday to see you again.”

“Really?”