Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Yeah?” He takes a sip of wine and watches her. “Explain.”
“No thanks.”
“Explain,” he repeats.
“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Kate says testily. “You’re bossy in the office, bossy outside the office . . .”
“And you’re not?”
“It’s my job to be bossy. Someone has to make sure you guys keep your pants zipped up so you don’t go thinking with your . . .” Kate gestures in the vicinity of Kennedy’s crotch, and Lara chokes into her wine.
Kennedy’s eyebrows lift. “Wasn’t aware that my”—he, too, gestures to his crotch—“was any of my assistant’s business.”
Her cheeks color slightly. “It’s not. Obviously. Neither is Ian’s or Matt’s. But while we’re on the subject . . .”
Kate gives me a sly look, and I give her a mental salute of respect for the skillful change of subject. Still, I can respect her without playing along. “Not open for discussion.”
“Oh, come on,” Lara says. “What the heck is going on with you guys? You’ve been in the same general area for nearly half an hour, and there hasn’t been a single fight.”
“Well, one of them’s been on the balcony, the other in the kitchen,” Kennedy points out. “It’d be hard to fight across that distance, even for them.”
“Shush,” Lara says. “Don’t ruin this for me. I want the scoop.”
“You already know the scoop.” I take a sip of my Chardonnay. “We have an arrangement. I play his doting girlfriend when needed and make the world believe he’s done with his partying ways.”
“I think it’s working,” Kate says. “Your morning coffee dates have all the women around the office talking. The general vibe is disappointment that Matt’s off the market, not skepticism that it’s a ploy.”
“Ian and I ran into an old colleague of the guys’ at dinner the other night,” Lara chimes in. “His wife was sweet but a total gossip hound, and she was relentless about finding out if a ring’s in your future after they saw you ‘making love eyes’ across the table at each other.”
I wince. “Damn. We might be doing our job a little too well.”
“Or maybe not,” Kennedy says with his usual storm-cloud touch. “Jarod Lanham’s not buying it.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Rumor has it he’s very interested in whatever you and Matt have going on.”
I freeze. What?
Frantically, my brain goes back to Jarod’s and my conversation at the bar that first night. Had I slipped up somehow? Inadvertently let him on to our ruse . . . ?
Kennedy freezes midsip, looking atypically nonplussed. “Matt didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? And don’t say nothing,” I say, lifting a finger in warning.
“You’re just like Kate when you’re pissed.” Kennedy sighs. “Matt and Lanham had lunch on Monday. Matt said he was fishing for info on your relationship. I thought you knew.”
No, I didn’t know.
I’ve barely talked to Matt after our marathon sex weekend. Apparently when I’m not needed for sex or fake relationships, he has no use for me.
Lara pushes the cheese board toward me. “Eat this, sweetie.”
“And have a sip of this,” Kate says, picking up my wineglass and holding it up to my mouth.
I let out a little laugh. “I’m not mad.”
“You look a little mad,” Kennedy says into his glass.
“No, I’m just . . .”
Hurt.
“Concerned,” I finish. “I can’t do my job if Matt doesn’t give me all the information.”
“I will say, his schedule’s been crazy,” Kate says kindly. “He’s barely had a free minute between meetings.”
The balcony door opens, and the sound of male laughter fills the air as Ian and Matt step back into the living room.
I’m already off the barstool, wineglass in hand, as I stomp toward them.
Ian gives me a wide-eyed look. “Don’t hurt me.”
I ignore him and, putting a palm on Matt’s chest, push him back onto the balcony. “You and me, outside.”
Matt gives me a slightly amused look. “Can I at least get another drink first?”
My only response to that is to shut the door on the rest of the group so it’s just the two of us, forty-something stories above Manhattan.
Too late, I realize my mistake. It’s cold out here. The guys all came from work, and their suit jackets are enough to protect them from the worst of the fall air. My thin blouse? Not so much.
“Why do you look ready to cut someone?” Matt asks, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to me.
I ignore the jacket. “Did you meet with Jarod Lanham on Monday?”
He goes still for a moment, then steps toward me, wrapping his coat around my shoulders when I make no effort to take it myself. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was getting around to it,” he says simply.
I pull his coat closer around me. “But you told Kennedy first.”
Matt tilts his head curiously. “Sure. I work with the guys. I see them all day, every day.”