Pretend It's Love(21)

"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.