Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and yanked me after her. I had no choice but to follow, albeit hesitantly, because the prospect of meeting a complete stranger both fascinated and terrified me.
What if he turned out to be completely illiterate? Or arrogant to the point of being a complete ass? I didn’t want to have to find a lame excuse to get the hell out of there, because I was the worst liar, and no one ever bought my bluffs.
“I don’t want to go.” It was a weak attempt at protest, but, truth be told, deep inside I had sort of made the decision long before I even realized it. Jude’s plan, as odd and completely absurd as it sounded, was the only option I had at this point. If Chase was only half as good-looking and cultured as he gave the impression in his online profile, and as nice as Jude believed, he might just be fake-fiancé material…if he agreed to play along and didn’t kill me in the first place.
“What about this?” Jude retrieved my little black dress and held it up.
I grimaced at her, mortified. “I want to hire him, not bed him.”
“Or you could do both,” Jude said, grinning.
Jude was a free-spirited soul, but not as free of inhibitions as she liked to pretend to be. Basically, she dated—a lot—but she never jumped into bed with any of the guys, because by the end of the second date she had already found a long list of things to fault, which she hid behind a sparkling smile and a run to the bathroom in order to call me in a desperate attempt to come get her. And every time it was my job to help her out by finding excuses as to why she couldn’t see her dates again. It had been like this ever since we met in college and bonded over a watery chai latte served in the café across from her grandparents’ townhouse. After telling hundreds of lies to cover for her over the years, I would have expected to be an expert in lying, but fat chance.
Sighing, I threw the dress on the bed and squeezed into a pair of skinny jeans, a black shirt, and a suit jacket that was fitted but covered only half of my butt. Once I’d paired the outfit with flat boots and my fake diamond earrings, and with my hair piled up on my head, I thought I looked modern and fun, but also conservative—yet not too severe to give the impression I might have scared off every guy entering my life, and consequently might be to blame for my current unattached status.
Unattached status.
I despised those two words strung together because they sounded like an incurable disease. Given that I was only twenty-three, there was still hope. Unfortunately, some people in my life thought differently, which was why I had fled across the country to be far away from Waterfront Shore. Far away from high expectations and an old life that harbored too many dark secrets.
Regarding myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I couldn’t help but give an approving nod at my reflection. The jeans emphasized my butt, drawing attention away from the wide hips I used to hate as a teen. The shirt sat tight around my bust, but slightly loose around the waist area so I wouldn’t look like a stuffed turkey. And the jacket gave me an academic flair that screamed “business administration professional.” I might not be as tall and thin as Jude, or as stunningly pretty, but I knew how to complement my strong points, which were my eyes and my full lips painted in a sheer burgundy red. I was so pleased with my choice of attire that I turned to Jude proudly.
“How do I look?”
“Well, you certainly won’t have to fend off any advances, if that’s what you’re so worried about. It’s, simply put, hideous.” Jude pointed at my suit jacket, grinning. “You sure you want to wear that? I wouldn’t hit on you dressed like that.”
I turned back to the mirror to give myself a critical once-over. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Better ask, what’s not wrong with it. It reminds me of an eighties music video, and not in a good way.”
Jude loved surfing YouTube for old and horrendous music videos. She said it helped with her job as an Internet entrepreneur. After watching her dabble in this and that for the last two years, building websites and blogging, I was still not sure how exactly she was doing it job-wise, but she made more money than I did and paid more than half her share of the bills, so who was I to complain? I loved this jacket and should have felt offended, but the beauty of our friendship was that whatever the other said was accepted as constructive criticism. Given that Jude was also a bit of a fashion fanatic, I knew I should listen to her advice, which I usually did.
Just not today.
“The jacket’s staying. End of discussion,” I said, and began to apply a thin layer of lipstick. “I’m not meeting this guy to impress him. I’m hiring a professional actor, so he’d better be good and decent. If he so much as looks like a creep, never mind talking or behaving like one, I promise I’ll hold you responsible for the rest of your life. After all, it was your idea.”