Page 4 of Fake it With Me

But I was a man. A man that hadn’t gotten laid in way too long apparently.

Full lips with zero lipstick. A light gloss if I had to guess. My mind went straight to the gutter. That mouth on mine. And other places.

I just sat there like an idiot, my brain short-circuiting, my mouth refusing to form words.

It was not like me to sit around like a bump on a log. I was a take-charge kind of guy. I spent my days barking orders at crews of shipbuilders, men twice my size who’d been working boats since before I was born. I’d built a billion-dollar company from nothing but a dream and a willingness to work until my hands bled. I didn’t get tongue-tied. I didn’t get speechless.

And yet there I was, struck dumb by a woman in jeans and a blouse that looked like it had been on the bottom of a laundry basket.

She started walking toward me. This was it. Could I do this?

I had to. I was out of options.

Get your shit together, Sullivan. It was a business deal. How she looked didn’t matter. What mattered was her helping me keep Daisie. The thought of my daughter snapped me back to reality faster than a bucket of ice water.

I stood as she approached, extending my hand like a normal human being who knew how to interact with other humans. “Liza?”

“That’s me.” Her handshake was firm, confident. Her palm was slightly sweaty, though, which made me feel better about my own momentary lapse in composure. She was nervous too. “You must be the client.”

I tried not to wince at being called a client. It made me feel dirty. But I was a client and this was a business arrangement.

“Darek Sullivan.” I gestured to the chair across from me. “Please, sit. Can I get you anything?”

I expected her to order a coffee. Maybe a tea. Something simple and polite that people ordered when they were trying to make a good impression.

“Yes, please.” When the server appeared she proceeded to order a latte, a muffin, and two bear claws.

I must have done something with my face because she paused mid-order, looking uncertain. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.” I nodded at the server. “And another black coffee for me.”

When the food arrived, she attacked it with the kind of gusto I had only witnessed in teenage boys. She didn’t pick at the muffin or nibble daintily at the bear claw. She ate like a woman who hadn’t seen food in days, and something about that made me feel a little something.

I watched her, trying to figure out what I was dealing with. She wasn’t trying to be seductive or charming. She wasn’t batting her eyelashes or touching my arm or doing any of the things I was used to women doing. She was just eating. With great enthusiasm.

And somehow, I found that reassuring.

And oddly endearing.

I quickly dismissed the thought. This was a contract for services. That was all I needed. The whole point of hiring someone to fake a relationship was that it wouldn’t end up with emotions and hurt feelings.

I was already dealing with one terrible ex. I wasn’t shopping around for another one.

“So,” she said around a mouthful of food, then swallowed and tried again with better manners. “So. Fake girlfriend. That’s the job?”

I looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

“That’s the job.” I leaned back in my chair, studying her. She had a smudge of powdered sugar on her chin. It should have been off-putting. Instead, it was cute. “But first, let me make one thing clear. I’m not a bad father.”

She blinked at me, bear claw halfway to her mouth. “Okay?”

“I need you to understand that before I explain anything else. Whatever you might hear, whatever people might say, I’m not a bad father. I would never put my daughter in danger. Everything I’m doing, everything I’m about to ask you to do, it’s all for her.”

Liza set down the bear claw and gave me her full attention. The nervousness I’d seen when she walked in was gone. She looked at me like she was a scientist examining a specimen. Which, according to Della, she actually was.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” she said.

So I did.