See, I'm an expert at faking it already. And especially to myself.
When the buzzer goes off, I practically jump out of my skin. I grab my purse and hurry over to the intercom.
"Hello?" I say into it, hoping I don't sound nervous.
"Hey sunshine." God, even through a crackly speaker, his voice sounds sexy. I swear, I'm getting a little wet just hearing it, like it's some sort of automatic reaction.
I clear my throat, ignoring the heat between my legs. "I'll be right down," I tell him. Then I take a moment to compose myself and get my hormones under control. I swear to god, earlier today I was so close to pushing him back on my bed and taking off his pants. It was so bad, I could barely look at him. Every time I met his eyes I was hit with a pang of desire, like a punch to the chest.
Not that looking elsewhere helped. His body in that shirt was just … there are no words. All I wanted was to grab hold of his arms and shoulders and climb him like a monkey. Then there was all the lewd and crude dirty talk coming out of his mouth and I was practically melting on the spot. There was a war inside me, a bitter battle between my brain and my vagina and I know next time my vagina might be the victor. I can already see the victory dance. Very similar to a touchdown but it results in an orgasm.
Ugh. I should have just had sex with him. Gotten it out of my system … again. Now if I actually end up going through with this crazy plan, sleeping with him has to be taken out of the equation. It's one thing to be paid to be someone's girlfriend. But when sex enters the question … no thanks. That going into pretty dicey territory.
You haven't agreed to anything yet, I remind myself. Just go out for dinner and make your decision later.
I nod at my internal pep talk and go out the door.
Emmett is waiting outside the lobby. Of course he looks amazing, slightly more dressed up now. Jeans, a white button down shirt, skate shoes. Casual and completely fuckable all at once.
Shut up vagina.
"You look beautiful," he says to me and for once his eyes don't leer at my breasts.
"Thank you," I say, taking the compliment as coolly as possible. Just because he said I look beautiful, doesn't mean I need to swoon.
"Trying to impress me?" he asks as he starts toward an Audi, its silver sheen gleaming under the sun.
"I knew you were going to say that," I tell him. "I was tempted to show up in what I wore this morning, just to prove a point."
"Go braless? Best decision you ever made. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you did that for me too."
"I didn't even know you were coming over. You're the crazy person who stalked me and showed up at my door."
"Persistent as a mosquito," he says as he opens the passenger door for me. "After you, sunshine."
I snort and slide on in. Obviously my nickname is an ironic one.
"So where is this Autumn?" I ask him as I casually glance around the car. It's really fucking nice. All black leather interior, walnut trim. But I can't let him know I think that.
"At the restaurant already," he says, starting the engine. It purrs like a dream. When he starts driving down the street, I've got that thrill going through me again like a rogue wave. I'm nervous and I'm excited. Just to be in a car like this, with a guy the world is talking about, off to some fancy restaurant. Maybe being his pretend girlfriend wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Maybe it would just be a lot like this.
///
As if he can hear my thoughts, he turns to me. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I say, my eyes fixated on his hand on the gear shift, his tanned, muscular forearm, the white shirt sleeves shoved up to his elbows.
"Why did the concept of money make you change your mind?"
I swallow, feeling a tad uncomfortable, even though I shouldn't. It's why I'm here. "Money talks, doesn't it? Didn't it buy you this car?"
"So that's what you want? Cars? Designer clothes? Expensive shoes?"
I shake my head. "No, actually. I mean, those are all nice, though I doubt I fit into any designer clothes."
"Baby, you have got to rethink your body issues."
I give him a sharp look. "You just called me baby."
"I did," he says, grabbing a pair of aviator sunglasses from the center console and slipping them on. "You have a problem with that?"
He flashes me that stupidly handsome grin of his.
So of course, no, I don't have a problem with it.
"Back to my question," he goes on. "What do you need right now?"