Chapter Four #2
Jo inhaled a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and turned to look at him. “How do you see this working?”
Over half his hamburger gone, he pushed his plate away and wiped the buttery residue from his hands and mouth. “I only need you to accompany me to social events. Maybe a company thing at the end of the month. I’ll send you a list of dates.”
Still in the pocket of her coat on the seat next to her, her phone vibrated. She’d given up on the interview panning out, so she let it go. Probably another text from Walt. He hadn’t let up all morning. Of course, if she answered him, he’d probably stop.
Instead, she asked, “So we just show up as a couple and play it out?”
Something close to panic flashed in Avery’s eyes. “I wouldn’t say a couple.”
“What would you say?” she asked, loving that she’d turned the tables on him. And having found a chink in his armor, she couldn’t resist prodding just a little more. “I mean, what will you tell people about us?”
“We don’t owe anyone an explanation. But if anyone asks, we’re dating. Just getting to know each other.” He tossed the wadded napkin aside, and light glinted off a ring on his finger.
A fraternity ring. She hadn’t noticed it before, hadn’t known where he went to university, what fraternity he was in, and it confirmed the fact that she knew very little about him.
“I see.” Caution screamed at her. She didn’t want to get to know him, didn’t want to share personal things about herself, but if they were going to pull it off… “How long is this thing going to last? A few weeks? A month?”
He pulled out his phone with one hand and thumbed through his calendar. The fingers of his other hand, still resting on the back of the seat, drummed a steady beat.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
From across the table, Jo couldn’t make out what all the little squares said—the font was too small, and she didn’t want him to think she was interested—but if every block of color represented an appointment or event, the guy was busy.
He stopped at a big chunk of blue. “Five weeks. That should be long enough to get them off my back.”
Five weeks wasn’t that long if she only had to deal with him a few hours a week. By then she’d have a new job—fingers crossed—and a new place to live—toes crossed. She could replenish her savings and maybe have a little left over for a new mixer.
Now for the important part. “You said I’ll be paid per date.”
He nodded.
“How much?”
“I haven’t put a number to it yet.” He sat back, sprawled against the back of the booth. “What were you thinking?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Actually, she’d thought of little else since they made plans to meet for lunch. “I thought you’d know all about the going rate for a—” She glanced at the little girl sitting at the counter with her dad. “—chaperone.”
A low chuckle lured Jo’s attention back to Avery, the sound pouring over her like warm whiskey, soothing yet intoxicating.
“Baby, I’ve never paid for the pleasure of a woman’s company.” One brow cocked, he lowered his voice. “But if you’d like to add that to our arrangement, I’m up for it.”
Literally?
Don’t look. Don’t look. Do. Not. Look.
It took all she had not to glance at his crotch. Instead, she lifted her chin. “In your dreams.”
“Several of them.” His words came with a smile that could singe the panties off a nun.
She shook her head to hide the shiver rolling over her entire body. And it was a good thing her sweatshirt hid the goosebumps skating along her skin. He’d been dreaming about her?
Don’t be an idiot. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you. “If you’re done being a dick…”
“For now.” His grin faded as he tilted his head, and a coil of jet-black hair dipped over dark chocolate eyes that narrowed. Long slender fingers, tapered to clean, perfectly manicured nails, began their four-count rhythm again. “Tell me what you need?”
She licked lips that had gone dry. “Ten thousand ought to do it.”
The drumming stopped. A frown creased his brow.
Too much?
No, her time was worth something. Plumbers charged four times what she’d earned per hour working for Giselle. Electricians more than that. Surely, pretending to date a playboy asshole for five weeks was worth at least that much.
Besides, Avery Preston was rich. He could afford it. “Look, I—”
“Done.”
Jo blinked. “Just like that?”
“Yeah, it seems reasonable, and now that that’s settled…” He sat forward so quickly she jumped. “We start tomorrow night.”
“That soon?” She thought she’d have time to get used to the idea, to mentally prepare.
“Yeah, I have to do this thing.”
“What kind of thing?”
He flicked a hand. “I’m presenting a check to the library’s literacy campaign.”
With a click of her tongue, she mirrored his dismissive wave and drolled in her best snooty accent, “Oh, one of those old things.”
But inside, she was a mess. She’d worked enough of these events to know Houston’s elite liked to play dress up—designer tuxes, couture gowns—while they ate too much, drank too much, and flaunted their fat wallets.
She refrained from pulling a Brooke and chewing her lip. Instead, her stomach churned. “I suppose it’s black tie?”
“Unfortunately.” He pulled out his own wallet, handmade leather, probably Gucci.
No, according to the pics on his social media, he favored Tom Ford. She eyed the jacket draped over the back of his seat. Yep.
She swallowed the acidic lump of disappointment in her throat, but her shoulders slumped a little before she could stop them. If he dressed like this for a casual lunch, what would his tux cost? Because men like him—billionaires like him—would own a tux or two or three.
Fuck, she was in over her head. She didn’t have that kind of wardrobe. This wasn’t going to work. Even if she found a designer knock off, it would cost more than she could afford, more than he was paying her. She’d be paying him to let her tag along.
“Here you go.” He pulled out a credit card—black with gold letters and the face of a Roman soldier.
Jo looked from the plastic status symbol to the empty space at the end of the table where she’d expected to see the server. Her gaze flew back to his. Surely, he didn’t mean for her to—
“Take it.” The card did a flip between his fingers. “Get whatever you need to play the part.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
That damn brow shot up to mock her.
“You know what I mean. It’s too much.”
“Not the way I see it.” When she still didn’t take it, he sighed. “If HR sent you up to work in accounting at Preston Enterprises, I wouldn’t expect you to bring your own pens, pencils, and computer. I’d supply them for you.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Yes, it is. I’m paying you to do a job. You need the appropriate tools to do it.”
It made sense. It also stood to reason that if she was going to be his arm candy, she needed to shine like spun sugar.
He captured her wrist and placed the credit card in her hand. “Take the damn card.”
Her fingers curled tightly around the sharp edges of the card. Not because she planned to use it, but because the sight and feel of his fingers clamped like manacles around her wrist sent a zing of heat up her arm. Her breasts tingled, nipples beaded, and her heart hammered.
“Fine.” Jo tugged her arm free. “But I have a few conditions before I agree to this deal.”
She had to put a stop to his assumption that he could touch her any time he wanted. She was not his. And the bullshit innuendo? Ugh. She wouldn’t make it through tomorrow night without killing him.
“I thought you’d already done that by naming a price.”
Jo ignored his jab and grasped the first rule that came to her from her mental list of dos and don’ts. “Rule number three.”
“Shouldn’t we start with rule number one?”
“I’ll get to that. But this one is just as important. No mingling of our personal lives. No showing up out of the blue. No calls, texts, or emails whatsoever unless it pertains to our deal. I’m not your maid, your gopher, or your girlfriend. I’m not even your friend. Got it?”
If she had a dollar for every time Chase had called her to bring him lunch because he was hungry and by himself at the feed store or his laptop because a paper was due for that online course he could never finish or worse, on those late nights when he needed a ride because he was drunk, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Avery’s shoulder rose and fell. “That’s the whole purpose of our agreement. No strings or expectations.”
“Agreed. And I need twenty-four hours’ notice for any date that’s not on the original list. I have a life, too.”
Though it wouldn’t amount to much until she found a job, which led to her next condition. “I’m still looking for employment, so if I land something with a catering service, I’ll probably be working a lot of nights. If there’s a conflict, I’ll need to bow out.”
“For good?”
“No, only when necessary.”
He was quiet for a moment. So quiet, she was almost afraid he’d call off the whole thing. Almost. There was still a small part of her that welcomed the idea.
“I really am sorry about getting you fired,” he finally said, the sincerity in his voice taking her by surprise. “I hope you know I never meant for that to happen.”
Jo nodded. She’d blamed him, but deep down she knew she could have avoided the whole thing by never agreeing to talk to him in the first place. And later, in the van, she could have left at any time. Curiosity had gotten the better of her.
“You did nothing wrong,” he continued, “and I assured that woman nothing happened. I tried to get you reinstated.”
“Viv told me, and I appreciate it, but it would have happened sooner or later.”
“The raspberry?”
She sighed. “That and a hundred other imagined transgressions.”
“I have to admit,” he said, that sexy grin slipping back into place, “one word from you, and that van would have rocked across the parking lot.”
Ugh. Just when she thought there might be some shred of decency in him…
She sighed inwardly and held up two fingers. “Rule number two. No flirting or sexual innuendo.”