Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Graham
My nerves, which had been tied in knots moments ago, go crazy. Absolute haywire happens under the surface of my skin as I stare at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen on my phone screen.
Words are what I do for a living, but they fail me horribly. My mouth drops open, but nothing comes out. Luckily for me, I can see the tiny picture of my own face on the screen tucked into the corner above Mara’s gorgeous mane of dark hair.
I look like a damn fish, trying to breathe out of water. Snapping my mouth shut, I focus on the gorgeous woman on the screen.
Her mouth forms an “O” of surprise. “It’s you!”
I’m just as shocked as she is. From the profile picture she used, I couldn’t see her face clearly. Her body? Yes. She had highlighted that perfectly. Full and luscious, her curves had practically jumped off the screen. But her face had been in shadow, and the dog’s bushy tail had covered most of her dark, wavy hair.
Once again, words fail me. “It’s you,” I repeat lamely.
“This is… unexpected.” She runs a hand through her luxurious hair. “You’re not a catfish.”
“I barely know what a catfish is.”
She quirks a brow. “You play the hermit writer who doesn’t get out much quite well.”
“I am a hermit writer.” I turn the camera around so she can see the room I’m in.
She frowns. “That looks like a cave.”
Sparse, messy, and dimly lit, my office could use an update. “My favorite place on Earth.”
“Is that where you wrote ‘From Beyond?’”
I nod, pleasure zinging through my body at the mention of my best-selling novel. That book almost killed me, but it also made me. And the fact that Mara knows about it, called my baby by name, sends a happy dance through my entire body.
Suspicion furrows her dark brows. “When were you planning on telling me?”
I walk into the living room, where the sunlight streams in through the open windows. “I was having so much fun chatting with you. I didn’t want to spoil it.”
Her lids lower, hiding her expression. “I was having fun, too.”
The most fun I’ve had in ages, including my last few relationships. “We have a connection…”
“But?” She smirks. “I hear a but.”
“But… you’re a little young for me. How old are you?”
“It says in my profile. I was honest in my profile.”
“So was I.”
Her raised brow says it all.
“Except for the photo.” I stumble over my words. “And… and that was my publicist’s idea.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “The same publicist who was at the signing?”
“Yes, that’s Vanessa Blake.”
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“What makes you say that?”
She laughs. “The way she pretty much kicked me out of the signing. How’s your hand, by the way?”
I raise my hand so she can see it and flex my fingers. “Good as new.”
A smile ghosts over her lips. “I have the magic touch.”
“It seems so.”
For a moment, neither of us speak. The connection crackles with something electric as our eyes lock.
“Why should I give you a second chance?” Mara asks, her voice breaking. “You lied to me.”
My stomach knots. I can’t imagine having any other woman then Mara on my arm for the awards ceremony. She’s far too young for me, and we shouldn’t have anything in common. But somehow, she’s perfect.
“I will do whatever you want if you’ll be my date to the awards ceremony.”
Her eyes go wide. “Anything?”
I know I’m in trouble, but I can’t help myself. “Anything. It doesn’t even have to be a real date. We can just pretend for the night.”
She’s silent for a long moment, and I can see the hesitation running across her face. “You want me to fake date you?”
I nod, seizing my chance. “If that works for you.” Whatever works for you.
“Okay,” she says, finally. “But it’s going to involve your wallet at the shelter fundraiser.”
Something in my chest loosens. My wallet can take the hit, but I’m not sure my heart can. “It’s a deal.”
Three days later, I wait at the train station to meet Mara. The day is clear and bright. The skies are blue, and people are everywhere.
So many people.
Citizens of Mossy Oak have come out in droves along the rail trail. Joggers dodge dog walkers, packs of mothers push strollers, and a trio of teenagers have set up a ramp for skateboard stunts.
This is more people than I see in a month. Normally, I would convince myself to skip whatever plans I’ve made and burrow back in my writing cave, but today I push through.
Because I’m going to see Mara.
And then I see Mara .
She’s even more gorgeous than I remembered.
Wearing a flowing tunic cinched at the waist with a wide, jewel-encrusted leather belt and shiny gold leggings, Mara turns heads.
There’s just something about her. Something sensual and sexy, but something so damn cute at the same time. Her dark, glossy hair shines in the bright sunlight, and her energy is palpable even from a distance.
A tawny head pokes up from the tote bag slung over her shoulder. I recognize Cupid, the little dog who goes everywhere with her.
He recognizes me, too, and gives a happy bark as he spots me.
Mara’s gaze travels over the crowd lined up at the train station and lands on me. Her eyes light up, and a smile curves her full lips.
The urge to stride toward her, take her face in my hands, and kiss that smiling mouth nearly overwhelms me.
I walk halfway to meet her, narrowly resisting the urge. As soon as we are face to face, Mara bursts out laughing.
“You’re wearing a tuxedo!”
I glance down at my black suit. “It’s just a suit.”
“It’s cute.” She cocks her head at me. “But this is not that kind of fundraiser. There will be dogs, fur, and more than a little chaos.”
I reach up and tug my bow tie. “In my defense, I wasn’t exactly given a dress code."
She checks her watch. “We’re going shopping.”
The nearby strip of stores has few options. We end up in a consignment store filled with vintage clothes.
“Is it okay to bring a dog in here?” I ask as she drags me by the hand toward a rack of men’s jeans.
“Who’s gonna know?” She taps Cupid on the head, and he obligingly disappears into her bag.
Mara pursues the racks as if we’ve got all day, taking her time selecting shirts and assessing them against my skin tone.
She finally decides on a forest green light-weight sweater and a pair of jeans that look like they’ve been through the wash a million times.
“This color will look amazing on you.” She ushers me toward the changing room, snagging a pair of work boots on the way. “Trust me.”
I have a feeling trusting Mara could get me into a lot of trouble, but I dutifully change into the outfit she selected, right down to the scuffed leather shoes. Looking at myself in the mirror, I’m not sure I can leave the dressing room. The jeans fit snuggly, leaving little to the imagination.
After a quick turn to check out my butt, I know I’m not going anywhere in jeans this tight.
“You doing okay in there?” Mara’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.
“I don’t think this is going to work.”
“Can you come out so I can see?”
“I’d rather not.”
Her voice sounds close to the door. “Come on out, Graham. I’m sure you look amazing.”
The coaxing quality to her voice gives me enough confidence to open the door. “I think these jeans are a little too tight.”
Her brow furrows. “Do you need another size?” Then, her gaze drops down to my lower half, and her jaw drops. She takes her time lifting her gaze back to my face. A grin takes the place of her frown. “I think those are perfect.”
I try to put my hands in my front pockets, but there’s no room. “They’re pretty tight.”
Her brow quirks. “Like I said. Perfect .” She makes a circle in the air with her finger. “Let’s see the back.”
I step out of the dressing room and walk to the full-length mirror, giving her my back. The image in front of me is startling.
The flared jeans, the V-neck sweater, the scuffed square-toed boots look like they came off a wardrobe truck from the movie Dazed and Confused.
“Wow.” This is from the salesperson, who happens to be walking by. “You look smokin’.”
In the mirror, I see Mara cock her head to the side, studying me. “It’s missing something.”
“Yeah?” the employee asks, cocking her head to the side as well.
The way they study me makes my skin feel hot. I tug at the jeans, trying to shove my hands in the back pockets. There’s no room for my wallet or phone.
Mara rushes to a rack on the wall and pulls off a long silk scarf in a bold green and gold pattern.
“Oh, no.” I take an evading step back as she tries to loop it around my neck. “I’m not wearing a scarf.”
She catches me around the neck and uses it to pull me close. “It’s not a scarf. It’s a cravat.”
My heart jumps as she ties a knot around my neck. The silk slides against my heated skin, and her fingers are a light caress. Her gaze lifts to mine, a knowing gleam dancing in the blue depths of her eyes.
I flash back to the first time I met her, when she kneeled between my knees. She’d given me a tiny smile just like this. Sweet and innocent, with just a dash of bold.
My pulse trips, and the loud rush of my blood fills my ears. I reach up and stop her hands as she adjusts the knot.
“I’m not wearing a scarf.”
“But you look so cute.” She loops her arms around my neck, fiddling with the silky material.
My entire body goes still under her touch. “You think I’m cute?”
She grins. “No. I think you’re smokin’.” Turning me toward the mirror, she points at us. “We look smokin’ hot together. Even if we’re fake dating.”
We absolutely do, and I wish there was some way to erase the word fake from our relationship status.