Chapter 20 #2
Filtering the sound through the fog of increased blood pressure was a challenge.
As though he sensed her mental disarray, Bastian kissed the top of her head, reminding her he was right there with her.
“It’s the phone,” he murmured, leaving her with nothing to lean on.
Bastian walked out of a sliding door into a room she hadn’t seen. She couldn’t follow, he needed to take that call, and she needed to get her senses back.
She finished cleaning up and opened the drawer Bastian had been aiming for before… anyway. Among other things, she found a small notepad and a pen. She wrote down her number, then went upstairs to text for a cab.
Didn’t take long to jump back into last night’s dress. Clutch in hand, she ran back downstairs to the kitchen just in time to see Bastian closing the sliding door behind him.
“Sneaking out on me again, Sweet?”
Smiling, she shook her head, wishing for a hair tie. “I’m not sneaking out,” she said. “I have to get home and ready for the day. There’s a few things I want to get done at the office.”
“We could take the day off,” he said, crossing to the island.
“There’s no need for that,” she said. “Our families think we spent the night together. We’ve done our duty and given ourselves cover for the week.”
“I was thinking about that,” he said, picking up the notepaper. “What’s this?”
“My phone number,” she said. “Just in case.”
“Of what?”
Huh, rejection. Ouch.
It wasn’t like she was asking for a dinner invitation.
A way to communicate should be the minimum required for their fake relationship.
That way if his mom did any more scheming, he could warn her in advance.
It was too much to hope that he’d pick up the phone just to confide in her.
What about practicalities? The reality of both families believing there was something between them?
“We have to coordinate our breakup. My sister and her fiancé know where you work and how to get in touch with you.” To her horror. “Your mother showed up at my work, and she’s met Damon. We’ll have to coordinate in case any of them come across each other. Our stories have to match.”
“My mother’s having a dinner party on Tuesday,” he said. “Would you consider joining me? Save me from being fixed up by her cronies.”
Harper nodded. This was mature and sensible. Knowing what was coming up, and what was expected of them, reduced the chances they’d be caught unawares.
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
“You have a launch next weekend, don’t you?”
Impressed that he remembered, there’d been no intention to invite him along.
“Yes, but it’s Sunday night.” She winced. “You’ll have to work the next day.”
Not deterred, little phased him. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll make it work because it’s my parents’ anniversary the following weekend.”
“You need company?”
“I have to give a speech,” he said. “And the next weekend will be your birthday.”
And how did he know that? Maybe it had come up while they were dancing, sometimes she zoned out when her head couldn’t believe reality. That dimple was intoxicating all by itself, never mind the incredible man it belonged to. Sometimes she couldn’t keep up.
“It’s not a big deal. There’s nothing planned,” Harper said. “For my birthday. There never is, it’s just another day.”
He folded the paper with her number and tucked it into his back pocket.
“One day at a time,” he said, coming to join her. “Now we know we’re together for at least the next month. No need to start thinking about our breakup yet.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, hooking a hand around the back of his neck to pull him down for a cheek kiss. “Will you text me the details for Tuesday?”
“Let me change my tee-shirt and I’ll drive you home.”
The kindness thing came from his mother, had to. Carolyn would be mortified if her son wasn’t a consummate gentleman.
“You don’t have—”
“If we spent the night together, I’d be driving you anywhere you needed to go. We’re keeping up appearances, aren’t we?”
A man with an answer for everything. That quick mind of his might work with others, she wouldn’t let it overwhelm her. Not with something like this. Looking after herself was second nature, something she’d have to reassert.
“I don’t need a driver,” she said. “You don’t have to take time out of your day.”
Why should he inconvenience himself for a charade?
“It’s that or you pick a car. Those are your options.”
Taken aback, wit deserted her. “Pick a car?”
Pride shone from the smile by his dimple, he did like surprising her. “There are a few on the premises,” he said. “I take you home, or you accept one of the cars.”
Independence had its limits. Something she was learning right there. Dumb as it sounded, and she couldn’t really explain why, but the idea of driving Bastian’s car was a thrill, taking a part of him home with her appealed. Was that weird?
“You’d let me drive your car?”
Sometimes, if it was ever desperately needed, she’d drive her father’s car.
More often than not, cabs were her primary mode of transport.
A car was an expense she didn’t need. She much preferred to reinvest her money into the company.
As a one-woman operation, only she was on the hook in success or failure.
Smiling, he stroked her upper arms. “Want to have a look?”
Though she tried to subdue her mischief, she couldn’t play it coy and pouted a little when she asked, “Did your mom say something about a Porsche?”
Lacing his fingers between hers, he guided her knuckles to his lips. “I’ll bring it around for you.”