"A hundred dollars."
"For the class? How did you come up with that?"
He opened the dishwasher and started stacking the dirty glasses into the top rack. "It seems like a nice round number."
"That you pulled out of your ass?" Libby shook her head. "You need to take this seriously, Paul."
"What I need is to run one of these nights and show Des how good I can be. You know I'm better with my hands. If he just gives me a chance-"
"He won't unless we get through this document." The exasperation in her tone made it clear she wasn't going to leave that stool unless he did what she said. "You asked for my help and I'm going to deliver it whether you like the process or not."
"You know, I can see a little of your father in you."
A deep pink flush rose up into her cheeks and she glared at him with the force of a thousand suns. "You did not just say that to me."
"Didn't I?" He raised a brow, enjoying knocking Libby off her high horse more than he should have.
Everything felt like a game with her, a challenge for him to seize. In the past, women had given in to him or he'd simply taken what he wanted. Even Sadie never challenged him outright-all her dissatisfaction came to fruition behind his back. Passive aggressive was her M.O.
But Libby stood her ground and dug her heels in, happy to argue until they were both blue in the face. It made his blood pump harder through his veins; she matched him. Butted heads with him. Pushed him and didn't take any of his shit.
"You know what makes me different than my dad?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest and giving him an eyeful of beautiful, creamy cleavage.
"What?" He slammed the dishwasher drawer shut and leaned on the bar.
"I don't push people because I think I know what's best for them. I push people I believe in, especially when I feel like they're slacking for no reason." She sighed. "I do believe in you Paul … and in your idea."
The words hit him as hard as a slap across the face. Now he understood why being with Libby felt different from all the other women he'd slept with. It wasn't just lust. It wasn't just attraction and tension and hormones. On some level he knew that she saw more in him than anyone else did. But that wasn't part of their arrangement.
"You're selling yourself short, and I'm not sure why." She peered at him, her copper-colored brows wrinkling above her tiny button nose. "You deserve more."
Wasn't that the exact reason Sadie had left him? Because she didn't think he had the potential to give her more, to give her what she craved. Success, affluence, status.
But Libby believed in him.
No, no, no. That's not how their deal was supposed to go down.
"I … " He opened his mouth, but his brain had no words; there wasn't a precedent for this situation. No one had said those things to him before.
Her eyes widened as she looked at him, waiting for a response that wasn't coming. "I uhhh … where is the ladies room?"
He pointed to the doors on the other side of the restaurant and she hopped off her stool, scurrying away like a mouse that had escaped a trap. Pink and red danced in the distance as her hair flapped against the back of her dress, her heels clicking loudly in the quiet restaurant.
"Dammit," he swore under his breath.
Why did she have to say those things to him? It was like taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, he could get addicted to her praise. To the way she looked at him as though he was the kind of man who wouldn't disappoint her.
That was fine in the bedroom, but not out here. Not in the real world where he knew he'd crush that hope right out of her if he was ever stupid enough to let her in.
He had to draw a line in the sand and fast.
Libby braced her hands against the bathroom countertop and stared at her reflection. On the outside she appeared calm; her cheeks had returned to their normal color and her gaze was steady. Inside, however, was another story entirely.
What the hell was she doing telling Paul how much she believed in him? They weren't in a real relationship. Hell, they weren't even really friends. Their arrangement was supposed to be a business deal and somehow sex had snuck in … now she was giving him some impassioned speech about how he deserved more in life.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid." She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe slowly for ten counts.
All she had to do was go back out there and get down to business. That wouldn't be so hard, planning and strategizing were her strengths. And she wanted Paul's idea to succeed because it would help her business … it wasn't about him.
Yeah right, you're letting yourself be fooled. Multiple orgasms should not make you forget why you don't go near guys like him.
Squaring her shoulders, she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, adjusted the little bow at her waist, and touched up her pink lipstick.
Game face on.
But the second she walked back out into First's dining area her confidence melted like an ice cube on hot asphalt. A woman stood near her laptop, her forearms resting on the bar as an indecently short skirt rode up her long, lean legs. Miles of blond hair trailed down her back, gleaming like spun gold.
Paul grinned at the woman, his arms folded across his chest in a way that made his muscles bulge behind the tight confines of his black T-shirt. He laughed at something she said and raked a hand through his short, dark hair.
Bile rushed up in her throat as she approached. How many times had she watched this exact kind of scene play out with her ex while naively thinking that he loved her? Instead he'd been lapping up the attention, mentally picking out his next conquest while she believed they would be together forever.
"Libby," Paul said as she approached the bar. "This is Cassie. We backpacked around Europe together a few years ago."
"Far too long ago," Cassie said in a lilting Irish accent. "Although parts of that trip are still fuzzy. You drank me under the table back then."
"Still could now," he replied with a wink.
"Lovely to meet you." Libby stuck out her hand and Cassie shook it, smiling warmly. "Are you on holiday?"
"No I just moved here. Got sick of living in London where it's gray and drizzly all the time. Paul kept telling me how wonderful Melbourne is so I thought I'd see for myself." She looked at Paul with such adoration that Libby felt like she might vomit.
"You'll like it here, Cass. Plenty of booze and partying." Paul grabbed a pint glass and held it under the Guinness tap. "How about a pint of the black stuff? It's on the house."
"You're a good man, Paul Chapman." Cassie readily accepted the glass of dark liquid and sipped. "But I'm done with the partying, to be honest. I think I'm ready to settle down for a while and just enjoy being here."
"You settling down, never!"
"You'd be surprised."
Libby didn't miss the look on Cassie's face, the yearning and wanting that she'd felt herself at one time. She'd come here for Paul, and he was completely oblivious. Fire ran through Libby's veins, jealousy burning like a wildfire out of control. She took a deep breath and tamped it down. Those kind of feelings had no place here.
"So, how do you two know each other?" Cassie asked.
An awkward pause filled the air.
"Libby is my girlfriend," Paul said eventually. "We've been going out for … "
"About a month," Libby filled in.
Cassie smiled-at least Libby assumed she was aiming for a smile, but it came out somewhere between that and a grimace. "I thought you didn't do relationships."
He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. "I didn't. But people change, I guess."
An image flickered at the edge of Libby's mind as Paul swept his eyes over Cassie. The two of them in bed, drinking, partying. Young and wild and having the time of their lives. She steadied herself by putting a hand on the bar.
Paul's expression was guarded, his dark eyes revealing nothing. Did he still have feelings for Cassie? She would be here when their fake relationship dissolved, or would he try to break the rules and go back to her before then?
"I actually need to head off," Libby said, reaching for her laptop and folding it shut. "We can work on the plan another time."
"Sure." Paul nodded absently. "See you later."
As she walked out of the bar, heat prickled along her neck and scalp. She'd promised herself she'd never be in a position to feel like this again … and yet here she was. Wringing her hands and wondering what he'd do once she was gone. The sound of Paul and Cassie laughing haunted her as she fled.
It didn't matter, he could do whatever he liked. The boundaries had to be established, and she'd remember this moment when that time came.
Libby's hands shook as she put the finishing touch on the last of the custom cocktails. Thirty identical champagne flutes lined an ornate sideboard at Gracie's mother's house, each with the perfect amount of cherry puree and garnish.