Wait a second. Sex. That was the answer. She’d never go for that, and he could be on his way. No harm, no foul. He’d find someone else. He’d conjure them out of the ether if he had to.
“The woman I select will need to be comfortable with sexual activity with me as well. Not necessarily full intercourse,” he added as her mouth dropped open, “but enough to add veracity to the proceedings. Some level of intimacy will make things look more believable.”
She appeared to be busy trying not to swallow her tongue. “You expect your fake girlfriend to have sex with you? In return for some sort of benefits you’ve yet to reveal?”
“Actually, no.” This was what he got for working constantly. His senses felt duller than the worn-down nub of a pencil. “It would be consensual, of course. I just won’t stop looking until I find a woman open-minded enough to consider it.”
“So you’re looking for a high-class escort.” She nodded, her amber eyes dangerously bright. “I see.”
“Hardly,” he snapped, yanking at his shirt collar again. He was on the verge of broiling alive, and she’d even tugged down her jersey a little so that he couldn’t see every square inch of her luscious skin. But he could see that little winking stud in her nose, and the long line of her neck, and her delicate collarbone—
And if he didn’t get some sleep soon, he was going to make a serious mistake.
Deliberately, he stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, steeling himself for what was to come. Hadn’t he just said how important intimacy was to adding a layer of veracity to a fib?
When his fingers skimmed the ends of her silky hair, just barely brushing her shoulder blades, she startled as if he’d shoved his hand down the pants she wasn’t wearing. At least he hoped she was wearing underwear. With Victoria, nothing was certain.
“What’re you doing?” she demanded.
“Touching you,” he said lazily, though the nerves that strung tight inside him proved this was no casual exploration. “If you want to be my girlfriend, you can’t stiffen up every time I lay a hand on you. Or three fingers in this case.” He pressed his pinky against her spine and registered her shudder. “Four now.”
“Why not go for a full ten?” She tossed her hair and the honey strands fluttered over his hand like silk ribbons. Tickling him. Making him want to lean in and bury his face in them. In her.
God, he’d start by nibbling that spot between her neck and shoulder, that shadowy soft place just revealed by her top. Then he’d tug it down, inch by inch, and fill himself on the sight of her breasts, the slope of her belly, her shapely thighs, before he set about tasting every part of her.
Before he could stop himself, desire and fatigue pushed him further than he’d meant to go. He reached up, fisting his hand in all that softness, and dragged her closer. All he could see was her big, brown eyes and her wet, parted lips—
She shook herself as if she’d just emerged from a trance. “Yes.” When he only stared at her, she smiled slyly. “You’re on.”
No. This could not happen.
Firstly, she was almost a…friend. At least they’d had occasionally friendly conversations. He had business associates, of course, and people in town he could talk to about any number of banal subjects to pass the time. But ones he’d known since he was a kid and trusted with his most important project, Simply Home? No. There weren’t any.
Secondly, he craved her in ways that were probably illegal in thirty states.
Thirdly, he was so damn hard he couldn’t even think anymore, never mind come up with reasons not to do something he really fucking wanted to do. Specifically—her.
She was looking at him now, waiting for his response. If he didn’t get this right, she’d end up like so many of the other women in his life: an ex determined to ignore him when she saw him out socially unless a glass of champagne found its way into her hand. And then onto his head.
Deliberately he reached down to adjust his erection. It was the sort of cocky move he figured Dill probably had used on women before Alexa. Maybe even on Alexa, too. He followed it up with a slow smile, more than a little flattered when Victoria’s pupils dilated.
Down, boy.
“Look, Victoria, I know I suggested this fake dating arrangement between the two of us but the more I think about it, the more I’m afraid it’s not going to work. We still have certain incompatibilities.”
She stared at the hand he’d rested on his thigh. “What incompatibilities?”
Rather than rattle off his laundry list, he quirked his lips. “I don’t think you could handle me.”