Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
T his was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. What was she doing imagining she could do something like this—going rogue on her agent, no less. Rosie would likely have kittens. If she didn’t combust first in a puff of joy-drenched glittery rainbows. Taking ownership of her life had felt brave at the time, but since sending that message—and delaying just long enough so she couldn’t press unsend—she’d gnawed her nails to the quick in worry.
And now nearly a week had passed since she’d sent that message. Five days since she’d received his reply. Four days since she’d suggested this café, one she’d frequented because it was near her apartment and offered a degree of privacy, especially later at night. Three days since he’d agreed, while away on a road trip that had seen him play several games, including two she might’ve watched on TV as he’d scored the game winners. All during a week when she was trying to focus on shooting interiors for the Christmas mystery show, yet had found far too much time to look him up online, read some of the hundreds of articles about him, watch some of his interviews, and thoroughly second-guess herself.
The man had dated dozens of models and actresses younger and prettier than her. Women literally threw themselves—their clothing—at him. He was supposed to have a secret child! What was she doing? Except she—better than most people—knew the internet recycled a lot of lies, so perhaps he wasn’t quite the player he’d been made out to be. And if he really was a Christian—as Cassie had assured, and why would she lie?—then the benefit of the doubt should be extended, alongside grace.
The door opened, and she glanced across. But no, it was an older couple, gray-haired.
She angled her body away, the stiff cardboard menu providing a pitiful amount of screening from curious eyes.
Her stomach knotted. Would he even show? She hadn’t dared send another message since the last; barely dared to check if he’d replied. What if he didn’t show? How humiliating that would be.
She drew out her phone, checked the Insta messages, but no. Nothing to indicate why he was late, even if she—ever-anxious she—was early, so technically if he showed up in the next five minutes it’d still count as right on time.
This was such a mistake. She should go. He must think she was crazy. Desperate. Which was true. Rosie had sent a reminder text today with an ultimatum that she had three weeks left to meet. So if not Zac, then who?
She propped her elbows on the table, her head in her hands, and closed her eyes. Lord, I really need Your direction, because this feels overwhelming. Please lead my steps, and if Zac isn’t the one, please show me who is.
“Ahem.”
She jerked upright, knocking over the menu, her eyes widening as she took in the man.
The very handsome man, whose small smile she remembered from the White Night last week.
“You came.”
“I said I would.” He gestured to the booth opposite.
She nodded, and he slipped into the seat across from her, his knees touching hers. She jerked her legs, her gaze, away, as her lungs tightened. This man was so big, this moment felt so overwhelming, like something of seismic proportions was occurring so air was hard to find, and she was struggling to breathe.
“Hey.”
She peeked up at him.
He wore a frown. “Are you okay?”
No. But she couldn’t appear any weaker than she was. This was her idea after all. And she had zero desire to appear any more desperate than she’d already made herself out to be. Pathetic woman, Ainsley was not. Besides, she could act the heck out of insecurity. After all, she’d been doing that most of her life.
So she internally braced, took in a steadying breath, and offered a small smile of her own. Not too wide, to avoid appearing crazed. Not too small, to avoid appearing smug. She was shooting for just right. “Thank you for coming.”
He nodded. “I’ve got to admit I was surprised you agreed to meet.”
He had a nice voice. Not too deep, but not high and whiny, either. And from all his interviews, she’d noticed he tended to articulate a lot better than some. Which was probably why he’d appeared in so many advertisements over the years. The man looked as good as he played, and spoke almost as well. He’d be perfect. If he agreed. She straightened in her seat.
“I had to check with Cassie James, who is a friend of mine,” one of the trusted few, “as I needed to know if,” get it together, Ainsley, “if you were a Christian.”
“I am.”
Her heart flickered. “Good. I am too.”
“Good.” His mouth curved.
Stop it, silly heart. This was a business proposition. Nothing more. “I just wasn’t sure, because I hadn’t seen it ever mentioned in any interviews, or, uh, anything,” she finished lamely.
He inclined his head. “It’s still pretty new.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He glanced at her quickly. “I didn’t grow up in a Christian home, and it was only when I started hanging with Chris Thomas that I began to realize there was more to this world than chasing success and applause.”
She knew what he meant.
“I gotta admit that I was surprised to learn you were a Christian, too.”
Oh! Nonplussed was the correct word for this feeling. She didn’t tend to go overboard about admitting her faith—Rosie didn’t like that—but she’d thought she’d shone Jesus a little better than that. “Um, okay. Well, just confirming, you definitely don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”
“Nope.”
Phew. “I couldn’t tell from the articles.” And there were a lot .
“I’ve had a few relationships in the past, but none for a while.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll admit I haven’t had time to read all of the articles about you—that’d probably take years,” his lips lifted, “but I did check out a few.”
Her nose wrinkled. No need to guess what he’d seen then. “Then I suspect you might have a clue about the reason for my agreeing to your invitation.”
He slouched in his seat a little, eyeing her seriously, all traces of his former good humor gone. “My invitation.”
She sucked in a breath, but before she could launch into the spiel she’d practiced a dozen times in her head, a waiter came and asked what they’d like.
“A chamomile tea,” she said.
“Your usual?”
She nodded. Honey, lemon, and chamomile tea was her standard “drop off to sleep” drink. Caffeine kept her awake at night, and an actress with leanings toward anxiety needed her sleep.
“And you, Zac?”
The waiter knew Zac? Well, she’d now learned that everyone in Vancouver—and much of North America—knew the man whose face apparently lined billboards, but not everyone would call him by his first name. That seemed pretty forward.
“My usual, thanks, Jake.”
The waiter nodded, smirking at Ainsley, before pivoting away.
“You come here?”
He shrugged. “My apartment is only a block that way.” He thumbed toward Stanley Park.
“Mine is one block that way.” Closer to Coal Harbour. Her smile flashed. “How bizarre that we live so close and visit the same café but have never met before.”
“What are the chances?”
Insane. Yet also, strangely, right.
She couldn’t find words for a moment, wondering if perhaps this was some Divine setup beyond her frail machinations. But that couldn’t work. Besides, she still had a job to do.
Which reminded her. She had work tomorrow, he had a game, and it was getting late. She needed to get to the point, and soon.
Their teas arrived—who knew a man like him drank herbal tea, too?—and she sipped hers and prayed for courage.
“So, about this invitation.” He settled back in his booth, watching her, his slate blue eyes intense.
But not scary intense, more like warmly intense, if that was a thing. Like he was curious about her, just like she was about him. Her chest tightened. What was her face giving away?
She blinked, refocused, lifted her chin. “So, you saw some articles about me, and I’m fairly sure if you saw more than three, then you probably saw me described as something like a one-date wonder, or words to that effect.”
He dipped his chin.
Great. “Well, it’s been brought to my attention lately that I need to project a different image. My, uh, agent has said it’s not a good look for a romance actress to never have a partner at functions or be seen going out on dates, but the men I’ve been partnered with have not been genuine or have made me feel uncomfortable at times.” Ugh. Why was she saying all this? This man was a virtual stranger. He could never understand.
“So your co-star isn’t your boyfriend?” he asked.
“No! Of course not. No, that was for promoting my new TV show. None of the guys I’ve gone out with in recent years have been real boyfriends, even though the celebrity gossip sites might suggest otherwise.” She frowned at him. “I would never agree to an invitation to meet another man if I had a boyfriend.”
He eyed her for a long moment then nodded. “Okay.”
Heat flared in her chest. He didn’t believe her?
Then he smiled. “Sorry, judging from your face I’m gonna guess that probably didn’t come out right. I meant to say, okay, that’s good to know. I saw you two at the White Night together and assumed you were together.”
“Everyone does. And that’s part of the deal with being famous. A picture can tell a thousand words but it doesn’t mean those words are true.”
“I hear you.”
Her earlier indignation died. “Has that happened to you?”
He nodded. “People make up stories about me all the time.”
“Like?”
He shrugged. “Apparently I have a secret family in Alabama.” His lips twisted. “I don’t, just so you know.”
Her cheeks heated. That was a relief. “Apparently I date so many guys because I’m using my experiences for my roles. I don’t, just so you know.”
Amusement pushed from him in a deep chuckle. “I might’ve heard that one.”
“I personally love how that rumor implies that people think I’m so bad at acting that I can’t remember what it feels like to fall in love or be dumped so I have to chase it all the time.”
“That sucks.”
“Big-time.”
He sipped his tea. “I have women throwing themselves at me—like, literally, sometimes.”
She swallowed a chuckle. She’d seen a few videos where women had done exactly that. Throwing, then missing, as he’d walked past oblivious, and their friends had scraped them off the floor. “That wasn’t me last week, by the way.”
“I know.”
His intense look rippled through her.
Then he pushed his cup away. “The problem is that some women think I’m still like that, and now I’m a Christian I’m trying to live differently. But because people still believe it, they treat me in a certain way because that’s what they think is true.”
“It’s so hard to combat too, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“And hard when you’re aware that people look up to you, and you have this reputation that’s not exactly what you want.”
“One hundred percent.”
Understanding flowed between them. She smiled, and his lips tweaked upward.
“So I wondered, especially considering some of these might be things that you’d experienced too, if you might agree to a certain business proposition.”
His eyebrows lifted. “A business proposition?”
She nodded. “I was wondering how you might feel about a partnership. It sounds like you need someone to keep the women away, and I need someone to be my date. So,” her stomach tensed, Lord, please help this go okay , “so I wondered about whether you’d agree to a fake relationship with me?”
* * *
Zac blinked. “A fake relationship?” Not a real one?
She winced. “I know as Christians we’re not supposed to lie, and I don’t want you to feel any pressure. I just need to keep my agent off my back. Apparently, I have a reputation for not being able to have a relationship longer than a week, and when Cassie mentioned that you were a Christian, well, I was interested.”
But not interested enough she’d want to give this a try for real. Okay then. Wow. He sat back in his seat, trying not to let the disappointment show.
Apparently he wasn’t a good actor because her brow pleated. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe this was something you might see could be beneficial.”
“And how did you think this could benefit me?”
“Well, it could keep the women away. The ones throwing themselves at you. If it was known that you were going out with me, that is.”
That was true. Fake-dating Ainsley would give him time to figure out some of his questions with God, while shutting up a lot of questions from others. Including from Logan.
“And I could pay you.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“Right, of course you don’t. But I would want to pay for any expenses you might incur from being with me. Like at various awards nights, and so on. That is, if you agreed.”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Should he agree? He didn’t know what to do. Except all this past week, ever since her message had come through, he’d felt a kind of urgent draw to this. He’d nearly not come tonight, sure there was no way a woman with a boyfriend should be meeting another man. But her explanation made sense, and her reasoning for this subterfuge made sense too. But was it right, like what God wanted?
And how could he play pretend with a woman he was attracted to? Maybe that was the challenge God had for him, to learn how to press past attraction to find something deeper, something like what Chris and Diana had, something that lasted. He was tired of flings and hookups that never really satisfied. And he sensed that wasn’t the way God wanted him to live anyway. Not anymore. So this would be a challenge, an opportunity for him to grow.
The hope in her eyes faded, her expression showing her expectation that he’d say no, which might be the wisest thing to do. Surely a lot less work than playing pretend with her.
Sometimes his mouth seemed to operate on its own. “How long for?”
Hope sparkled in the blue depths again. Man, she was beautiful. “For three months, maybe six.”
“Six months?” That was all?
“Until Valentine’s Day at least,” she quickly amended, like she’d thought he meant six months was too long.
He exhaled. “So you’d want us to be ‘together’,” he air-quoted the phrase, “through Christmas and New Year.”
“I know that’s a lot to ask. But it would be really convincing to be seen together for those holidays, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think we’re supposed to lie to people though.”
Her face fell. “You’re right.”
He stretched out his hand. Touched hers. Stifled a smile as she jumped.
“However…”
“What?”
“Well, I could ask you out—”
“Again,” she said.
Again? Oh, Drew’s message. He winced. “I have a confession. That initial message from me wasn’t actually from me.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“My teammate, Drew, sent it.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“So why did you come?”
“Because I did enjoy meeting you the other day, and I was curious, especially when you replied. But all that doesn’t change the fact that here we are on a real date. And I could ask you out on another one, and you say yes, and we go out a few times, so then it is real. That way if family or close friends ask we can tell them it is true.”
“But I don’t know you.”
“Hmm, last I checked, spending time with someone is how you get to know them. Not by reading articles online.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you saying you want to go out with me? Like, for real?”
His words stalled. If he said yes, and she said no, then that was his chance gone. But if he said no, was that a lie? Hey God, some help here, please .
“Because if you are,” she continued, “then I have to say sorry, but I can’t do that.”
What? His stomach twisted. “Why not?”
She shook her head. “Because I don’t want to put you in a position where you feel obliged to ask me out simply because I was dumb enough to ask for your help. I just need some time to get my reputation sorted out. I don’t need a boyfriend for real right now. I’ve dated so many needy insecure men I don’t have the energy or time to be in a relationship for real, especially as my life is so busy. And besides, I’d hate to get in the way of you being with the person you’re supposed to be with too.”
Wow. Clearly the woman didn’t have the hots for him. Which was a disconcerting change. When was the last time he’d been rejected? But then the latter part of what she said dropped into clarity. “But wouldn’t a fake relationship mean I’d be getting in the way of that for you, too?”
Her brow pleated. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”
His lips pulled out wryly. “Look, I can appreciate your dilemma, but I’m not sure that I’m the right man for the job. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?”
“Don’t you think I would’ve asked them if there was?”
Ouch. “So I’m a last resort, huh?”
Her nose wrinkled. “I know it sounds terrible when put like that, but I told my agent that I’d try to find somebody who might help me, especially because I wanted a Christian guy. I have people who look up to me, little girls as well, and I want to be an example of what to do.”
“By fake-dating?”
“No. By being a Christian who goes out with Christians. Who doesn’t just say yes to a guy because she’s feeling insecure, but says yes because she thinks the guy is worth her time.”
Oh. “You think I’m worth your time?”
“I think you have the potential to be. You’re a Christian, anyway.”
He wasn’t entirely sure about the logic of all she was saying, but it felt like there was a compliment in there somewhere.
“Look, I want to be seen to be going out with a Christian. It doesn’t need to be real. But if I don’t find someone then my agent is going to find someone for me.”
He stared. “To fake-date you?”
“Yes. And he likely won’t be a fellow believer.”
“Why would you let your agent do that to you?”
“Because it affects the roles I get.”
“Then maybe you need different roles.”
She bit her lip, then glanced down.
He felt like a heel. “Look, I’m sorry.” Sorry for all her past boyfriend troubles. Sorry for what that meant now. Sorry for his too-quick words. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.” She sighed. “It’s true. It’s something I’ve thought about before. And something I hope to do one day. But I can’t right now. Not when I’ve just started a new show.” She straightened, offered him a small smile. “Well, thank you for your time. I’m sorry if you feel like it’s been wasted.”
What? “You’re not leaving, are you?” Even though she was gathering her bag.
“I don’t want you to feel obliged to help me when it’s clearly not something that you want to do.” Her cheeks were pink as she rose. “I’m so embarrassed. Please, if you see me again just pretend you don’t, okay?”
“Ainsley.” He trapped her hand, gently tugged her back. “I haven’t said no.”
“You haven’t?” Her eyes were Disney Princess-wide.
“I’m just trying to get my head around what this involves.”
She resumed her seat, her hand on his, again oblivious to the sparks he felt there. “It can involve as much or as little as you like. We just show up at events. Get our picture taken, people make assumptions that we’re together. It doesn’t have to be anything harder than that.”
“But what about, uh, physical things?”
“Oh! Well, that’s easy too. You hold my hand, nothing more.”
“No hugs or kissing?”
She blushed. “No kissing, unless it’s on the cheek. Little side hugs are okay.”
“But wouldn’t people expect me to hug and kiss you if we’re dating?”
“Oh. We might need to see how that goes, then. It would just be acting kissing. Not real kissing.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Um, well, one you mean to look real, and one you really mean.”
His pulse quickened. He might’ve found some YouTube clips of Ainsley Beckett’s kisses, and he’d totally be okay with her demonstrating with him the difference. One day. “You mentioned Christmas before. What do we tell our families? Wouldn’t they need to know the truth?”
“We can say we’re dating, which is true, even if it’s only fake.”
He smiled.
“That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?”
“I know what you mean. And hey, if it makes you feel better, I can officially ask you to be my girlfriend. Fake girlfriend or real, it’s up to you.”
“Fake is fine for now.”
“For now?” He arched a brow.
She coughed. “I mean fake is fine.”
Fake wasn’t fine for him, but at least this way he’d get the chance to spend more time with her. “So now I’ve asked, you just say yes, and we’re gold. Right?”
“Yes.”
He chuckled. “ Is that a yes?”
“Yes!”
He laughed, and she joined in, and their amusement caught the attention of some of the other café patrons. Who looked at them, looked at their clasped hands, then pulled out their phones.
“Oh my gosh. They’re taking photos of us,” she whispered.
“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? People to think you’re in a new relationship?”
“One that’s going to last for three months.”
“Until Valentine’s Day. I remember.”
“Or longer, if you want.”
Oh, he wanted.
“But not if you find the real girl you start liking. I’m sure we can find a way for you to tell her how you really feel without it becoming awkward for us.”
Oh, he was counting on it.