Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Not since I was seventeen and in a mall,” she says, pulling a shirt off the stack of clothes to try on and tugging it over her head.
“I like it,” I say, nodding at the fitted red top.
“Shut up,” she mutters, attempting to detangle her hair from a tag.
“Need a hand?”
“No,” she snaps irritably. “I need for you to get out of here and go figure out what of the stuff she brought you you’re going to buy. You know what, just buy all of it. It’s the least you can do after—”
“After what?” I ask, swatting her hands aside and carefully pulling the dark strands of her silky hair away from the tag at the back of the shirt.
“After we defiled their dressing room.”
“Defiled?” I say with a laugh. “It was a kiss. We didn’t even get to the good stuff.”
“Thank God for that. I nearly violated my own rule.” She sounds genuinely horrified by the realization.
I catch her chin with my fingers, studying her face. “When did you turn into such a prude?”
“I’m not a prude; I’m a professional. This may be a game to you, but it’s not to me. This is my job.”
“Are you forgetting why we’re here in the first place?” I ask, stepping closer. “For my job. And believe me when I say that my career being on the line is just about the only thing that could compel me to come to you for help.”
She blinks, and for a split second, I swear I see something other than the usual disdain on her face. Something that looks a bit like hurt. Then she lifts her chin and it’s gone.
“Get out. Go back to your dressing room and prepare your credit card for a workout.”
“I don’t get why you’re so pissed about this,” I grumble as she tugs on a pair of pants. “Wasn’t this the plan? To let people think we’re together?”
“The key word there being plan,” she snaps, buttoning the pants. “We’re supposed to plan when people see us together, not get caught acting like teenagers.”
I grin. “You know the reason I think you’re really mad?”
“I’m just about to faint from holding my breath, dying to know.”
“You’re mad that we got interrupted. You’re mad that I only kissed you, that I didn’t put my hands all over you.” To piss her off, I reach out and play with a strand of her hair.
Sabrina lifts a warning finger. “Touch me one more time, and I’ll tear up our contract, leaving you on your own.”
I study her for a moment, debating just how serious she is. Best not to risk it.
My hand drops. “All right. You win this one. Get whatever you’re going to get,” I say, waving a hand at the enormous pile of clothes. “But have Monica send the stuff to your apartment. We’re not carrying the bags around with us.”
Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to deal with them when we go to lunch.”
“Oh.” I can tell she hadn’t expected me to want to extend our impromptu day date, but she’d never admit it. “Fine. I have reservations at—”
“Not your place,” I interrupt. I’m done letting her be in control. “I’ll pick the place.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Where are your reservations? Because my place is sure to get us spotted by—”
“Who’s paying the bills here, me or you?”
“You, but you’re paying me to get the job done, and lunch at Fig & Olive will ensure the right people see us.”
“I appreciate your efforts, but I’m not in the mood for fussy food.” I jerk open the door to the dressing room, saying, “Cancel those reservations,” as I step out.
“Only if you tell me where your reservations are. What if—”
I shut the door on her protest and go to my dressing room, where a pile of untouched clothes awaits.
I pull out my phone to make lunch reservations. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I lied about already having them. Trust me, it was necessary. To have any chance of surviving the next month, I need to get the upper hand.
I hear the neighboring door open as Sabrina calls for Monica in a too-sweet voice.
“What’s up?” Monica says, scurrying back into easy speaking distance.
“So somehow I ended up with the sweetest boyfriend on the planet,” Sabrina gushes. “He just offered to pay my entire shopping bill today; can you believe it?”
My head snaps up from the restaurant app on my phone. Uh-oh.
“He’s a keeper!” Monica says, clearly delighted with the turn of events. “So what did we decide on? Let me see the yeses!”
I close my eyes, already knowing what I’m going to end up buying for my “girlfriend.”
“You better get us some more champagne,” Sabrina says. “Matt’s told me to go ahead and buy all of it.”
I shake my head as I make reservations for two at a restaurant where the food is mediocre but the drinks are big and strong.