And when she looks at me with eyes so deep you could fit whole oceans inside them, I don't think. I just do what I do best. I pull her in and I kiss her. I make her forget about everything that's bringing tears to her eyes – the good, the bad and the ugly. I make the kiss as perfect as I can. I put everything into it, long motions, gentle touches, firm grasps. Everything I know she'll want.
I make the moment perfect. Because I can promise her that the rest of our lives will be anything but. So for now, for this moment, I make things as perfect as I can.
When I finally pull away, Ellen is a little breathless and looking flushed. She is stunning tonight, absolutely stunning. Her hair is pulled up in a simple style and she looks effortlessly polished and incredibly sexy all at once. I've never seen her look so good, and I'm realizing more and more that I made the right choice. That this woman is right for the part. It's a part she is playing so very well and we're only into the first day.
I smile and take my seat opposite her, "Champagne!" I call for the waitress, a sexy little fox who knows how to swing those hips. I bet she's incredible in bed. I glance at Ellen. The waitress might be a great lay, but I need Ellen far more – intelligent, hardworking and classy. I cannot deny that she fits the bill nicely. Also, she's nursing a low bank account and I know she can keep a secret. Perfect.
Ellen clears her throat, "Cade … thank you." She's smiling and it seems disarmingly genuine.
I smirk back as if it is nothing, shrugging my shoulders, "I'm not letting you walk around with something cheap." I chuckle, "That would not be very gentlemanly of me."
There are many women I know who would not describe me as gentlemanly, but I need to make an effort this time around. As the waitress fusses around, finding the glasses and the bottle, I sink back further into the chair.
"I still appreciate it. It's beautiful." Ellen smiles, and her eyes sparkle as she takes it in. The right woman and the right jewelry … I didn't think I was far off with my choice. Lucky for me, I was spot on.
"It's fine." I sit up a bit straighter as the waitress brings us our Champagne. She pops the cork with a flourish and Ellen laughs when it bubbles over. It's a lovely sound. I suppose I could get used to it – at least for now.
Once our glasses are filled, Ellen shoots me a look.
"So … what now?" she asks, and from the hushed tone and concern on her face, I don't suppose I'd be wrong to assume she is talking about business.
I take a sip of my drink, the bubbles lingering on my tongue, and I shrug, "We keep this up for as long as it takes to properly convince everyone."
Ellen nods slowly, processing it, "Until after your birthday?"
I clench my jaw, feeling a little tense at the mention of it, "Yes, until after my birthday. Longer if they need more proof."
The thought of my birthday sends tension across my shoulders. A few months ago, my world was turned upside down by the revelation that there was a catch to my trust fund. It was due to pay out when I was thirty, something that my grandmother set up to make sure I was comfortable. I thought that I was home free, until I recently got a letter detailing a few little additions.
I had to be married by the time I was thirty, or I would only get a small portion of the money and the rest would go to the trust fund managers and the other sharks in my family.
The thought makes me cringe. They won't use it to invest in the family business, or to build it up the way I have. They would just squander it. I don't doubt that they feel the same way about me – but that doesn't matter. What matters, more than anything else, is making sure that I have everything sorted and in order by the time my birthday comes around. And that includes convincing everyone that I am in a relationship, about to be married.
Fake relationships don't count and I know it.
Ellen is smiling and it is easy to see why I might fall for her. She is a lovely woman, and I have known her for several years. Sure, she has only ever cut my hair, but as is the case with most stylists, we've gotten to talking about a lot of things – mainly me and my life.
"Well, this should do a good job of convincing them." She smiles and holds up her hand. The ring glints in the candle light – it really does look beautiful on her.
"I hope so." I shrug and take another sip before raising an eyebrow. "Dessert?"
"If you're offering." She smirks. She doesn't bother being coy. She doesn't need to impress me and I kind of like that. Girls have been throwing themselves at me since high school and I have no problem taking advantage of it. Ellen's never done that. It's refreshing, and it helps keep things professional.
"As it so happens, I am. Try the Italian kisses. I hear they're divine." I murmur.
Her cheeks color and she shoots back, "I bet you'd know all about that."
"Maybe I do. I could show you later." Our eyes meet and she looks away quickly.
I call over the waitress. She hurries over and we order our desserts. I'm pleased when Ellen orders the Italian kisses, despite my jab. I order a tiramisu and we both grab a coffee.
Dessert is exquisite as usual and we eat it in relative silence. My worries gnaw at me, making the coffee taste a little too bitter. If this doesn't go through, my company will plummet and I'll be in a lot of trouble. I have a few big deals lined up, all riding on this money coming through. If it does, the family business, and my life, will flourish. If not … I sigh and take a sip of my coffee. If not, I don't even want to think about what will happen.
I've worked too hard to let it happen. My grandmother's ideals of marriage and children are not going to hold me back. I love her dearly and I honor her memory, but I'm just not cut out for a long-term relationship. I never have been and I doubt it will change. Even as I near thirty, the thought just does not appeal to me.
Ellen throws me a concerned look, "Something on your mind?"
I shrug, an easy smirk tugging at my lips. It's best that I keep this to myself – I don't need her thinking I'm going soft. I don't want her to worry about our deal. "As a matter of fact, yes … you naked with my tiramisu in strategic places."
For a moment she looks so shocked that it is all I can do not to burst out laughing. I settle for a chuckle instead. Ellen finds her voice as she glares at me, "Cade, that is … completely inappropriate!"
"Why?" I counter smoothly, "Of course, it would be inappropriate for a working relationship … but we're engaged."
I meet her gaze and I can see her struggling to come up with a retort to that. I press my advantage with a smile, "I suppose your previous boyfriends never said anything like this?" I look at her intently and she blushes and turns her head away.
I feel something stir within me, a feeling in my gut that I have not felt in a long while. "You've had boyfriends before, right?"
She throws me a dark look, "Of course I have!"
"What about sex?" I murmur, a low whisper. I know that no one else can hear, but Ellen blushes like the whole restaurant can hear.
"None of your business! Your fiancée or not." She looks at me sharply.
I grin and drop the topic. She has told me everything that I need to know. She's never had a man touch her – at least, not in the way I would.
My insides tighten and I feel a stirring below my belt. I have another few sips of my coffee as I consider her over the table, "Okay. None of my business."
Ellen nods sharply, but I can tell she is relieved. She crosses her legs and I catch a glimpse of skin. I shift. It is going to be difficult to keep this strictly professional. It's going to be very hard indeed, with a woman like this on my arm. I knew she was lovely, but I had no idea how much. Hair up in a ponytail, wearing slacks and a bleach-stained T-shirt, I had no idea how much more there was to her.
"Will you join me for a walk?" I set down my cup and Ellen looks surprised. I reassure her easily, "An after-dinner stroll. I hear the lights of the city are quite lovely from the path." I gesture to the walkway outside.
Ellen nods and I see her relax a little, "Yes, of course."
"Great." I smile and call over the waitress, asking for the bill. She is prompt to bring it and I notice the thank-you note scribbled on the bottom of the receipt. Good service. I tip her well and pay cash.
"Let me pay my half." Ellen is rummaging in her purse. Surprise rushes through me. I am not used to going out with women who pay their own way. Ellen doesn't have much money to spare, or so I gather, and I am surprised to see her offering.
She seems to be full of surprises. I hand over the bill to the waitress and shake my head at Ellen, "I asked you out. I proposed. I pay." I chuckle. "It would be pretty bad of me if I asked you to marry me and couldn't even pay for dinner." I shrug.
Ellen is blushing as she stands up, pulling on her coat. I take a moment to admire her curves.
"Thank you, then." She says as I stand. I wave away the waitress who is coming with the change, "Keep it. It's yours." She beams and I turn, offering Ellen my arm. She stares at me for a moment, as if she isn't sure what she should be doing. Then she takes my arm like it is the most natural thing in the world and saunters out of the restaurant with me.