Текст книги "Pretend It's Love "

Автор книги: Stefanie London

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Four

Libby checked herself out in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. She’d put far too much effort into making herself look as though she hadn’t expended any effort at all.

But her curls were artfully mussed, and she’d fiddled with the hem of her black and white striped shirt until it looked as though she’d thrown it on without a care. Her faded jeans were frayed in places, though she doubted Paul would realize they’d been designed that way. All she had to do now was dab a little red lipstick on and slip her feet into a pair of ballet flats.

Why are you so worked up? This is a fake relationship remember…it doesn’t matter what he thinks of you.

The doorbell sounded as Libby hunted for her second shoe. She found it sticking out from under the couch in her living room and hopped on one foot while she slipped it on.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself before opening the door.

“I was starting to think you weren’t home,” Paul said, amusement dancing in his tone. “Were you still getting ready?”

“Getting ready?” She rolled her eyes as though it was the stupidest comment in the world. “I was working.”

“Right.” His eyes raked over her. “May I come in?”

Heat crawled up her cheeks until she was sure they were the same color as her shoes. She stepped aside and held the door open. “Of course.”

He walked into the living room, affording her the chance to linger on the way his dark jeans perfectly outlined his legs and butt. He wore a dark gray T-shirt this time, instead of black. A faint whiff of aftershave clung to the air around him, something woodsy and masculine.

So he’d put in a little effort, too…or maybe he just woke up looking and smelling like sex personified.

She smiled, forcing the inappropriate thoughts aside. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“I wouldn’t call it humble.” He turned around, eyes sweeping over her antique sideboard and the custom coffee table she’d bought in Italy a few years ago. “It’s great.”

“Thank you.” The compliment warmed her insides.

Do I need to remind you not to care about his opinion?

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked, suddenly needing to keep her hands busy.

He had a vibe that screamed at her to touch him, which would be highly inappropriate. Especially considering they were about to plot out how to fool his whole family into thinking they were in love.

“A coffee would be great.” He followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the breakfast counter. “Black, no sugar.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She reached up onto her tiptoes to fish out an espresso cup from the top shelf.

From the corner of her eye she noticed Paul watching her, his lips pressed together lightly. Hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans, drawing far too much attention to the way the denim molded to every inch of him…and she was sure there would be plenty of inches.

“I don’t drink that syrupy gingerbread latte crap, if that’s what you mean.” He grinned. “I think I’d be stripped of my heritage if I did.”

“You’re Italian, right? I think you mentioned that,” she said as though she hadn’t analyzed every single word from their previous conversation. Setting the espresso cup down next to a pink and gold floral mug, she smiled. They looked a little ridiculous side by side.

“Half. My ma is Italian but my dad’s Australian. What about you? I’m guessing you’re English or Irish with all that red hair.”

The coffee machine came to life and steam hissed out of the milk-frothing nozzle. “English, although I believe there is a bit of Scottish mixed in as well. My grandparents immigrated a few years after the second world war.”

“Good to know.” He nodded. “So we should cover the basics. Favorite foods, movies, color…sex positions.”

She shot him a reproachful look and held the espresso cup under the machine’s spout. Dark liquid filled the air with a delicious aroma, the coffee mingling with the tempting scent of his aftershave. Heat coursed through her, her head spinning.

“I was kidding about the sex positions, although if you want to enlighten me I’m all ears.” A cheeky grin spread over his face, making his dark eyes sparkle.

Yeah, he would have women lining up with that naughtiness. All the better to remind her why she shouldn’t get emotionally involved.

“You’ve got no chance of that. But I can tell you my favorite color is green, my favorite movie is Die Hard, and I eat pretty much anything.”

“Die Hard.” He looked impressed. “The first one?”

“Of course, it’s a classic.” She handed him the coffee cup and turned back to the machine to froth milk for her cappuccino. “But I do love the third one, too. Jeremy Irons is a great villain.”

“Did you see the fifth one?”

“Yes, but I pretend that I didn’t. In my mind they stopped at three.” She grinned and poured the hot milk into her coffee. “What about you?”

“My favorite color is black.”

“Black isn’t a color.”

“If I can buy a T-shirt in it, it’s a color.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Favorite movie is Pulp Fiction and I love Italian food. Obviously.”

“Can you cook?”

“A bit. Not that I need to, I get plied with home-cooked food. My freezer is full of pasta sauce and soup.”

“That must be nice.” She took a long gulp of her coffee to hide her jealousy.

He nodded, averting his gaze for a moment. “Speaking of my family, you’ll get to meet them tonight.”

“Tonight?” she squeaked.

“Yeah, we’re doing a family dinner. I’m bringing you along to meet them. It’ll be a good time to introduce you to everyone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic! We don’t know anything about each other yet.” She grappled for an excuse. “How do you know I’m not busy?”

He cocked his head. “Are you?”

“Well…no.” She sighed. “You should have given me more notice.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. We were planning to talk through everything today so at least it will all be fresh in your mind tonight. Besides, I thought this was what you wanted.”

She blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes with a huff. Getting her brand into Des’s bar was what she wanted, fronting up to his family…well, that was her end of the bargain. But it made her insides twist and turn. She wasn’t very good when it came to playing happy family. Still, a promise was a promise.

“Okay, fine. What else do I need to know about you?”

“I don’t bring girls home to meet my parents.”

“Ever?”

“Once.” He swallowed and looked as though he was about to explain, but a shield seemed to shoot up around him. “You’ll be the first one in quite a while. As I said, I don’t do relationships.”

“Me, either.”

“Really?” He raised a brow. “Why?”

“My parents had a crappy marriage and Dad’s now on to wife number four or five. I tried once to have a relationship.” She paused. “It didn’t end well.”

“That’s a shame.”

“No it’s not. Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who think all girls are waiting to trap a man into marriage.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m perfectly happy without the wedding, the white picket fence, and the commitment.”

He chuckled. “Music to my ears.”

She sipped her coffee and motioned for Paul to follow her into the living area. “I can support myself and, so long as other needs are taken care of, I’m perfectly happy being independent.”

“And what other needs might they be?” He dropped down onto the couch, crossing an ankle over one knee.

He seemed to take up all the room, and Libby forced herself not to admire how damned delectable he looked sprawled out like that. She chose an armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table. Better to keep a little distance.

“None that you need to worry about,” she said, crossing her legs demurely.

“Have you got a rabbit for that?”

“A rabbit?” She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant and then snapped it shut when the true meaning of his words settled over her. “What I do in the privacy of my own home is none of your business.”

“I need to know my girlfriend isn’t left wanting.” He grinned at her like a wolf sizing up its prey.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“So why did your relationship end badly? Some bastard hurt you?” He drummed his fingers on his knee, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes.”

Some bastard had used and discarded her like a takeaway coffee cup…casting her out of the one place where she’d wanted acceptance. Craved it. Needed it with the desperation of a starving woman reaching for food because she’d never been able to get it at home. But she’d failed and had been humiliated for it.

That was her punishment for thinking she could change a womanizer into a reliable, committed partner.

The memory still bit into her, sharp and painful. But it had been a lesson she needed to learn, so Libby did the same as any good student would do. She copped the failure on the chin and adjusted her behavior accordingly.

No relationships, no commitment, no emotions. Just a little fun when she needed it, so long as she was sure she could keep the other person at arm’s length. Flings were better than relationships, anyway—it was the honeymoon period without any of the crap that followed.

“What did he do?” he asked, the curiosity undisguised in his voice.

“It’s not relevant.”

Paul nodded. Sunlight shone into the room between the slats of her blinds, casting a flickering light as the breeze from an open window pushed them around. He hadn’t shaved—the dark stubble made the angle of his jaw look even sharper and more appealing.

Libby distracted herself by inspecting her freshly manicured nails for imperfections. “What’s your family like?”

“They can be a little intense.” He raked a hand through his hair, but the dark waves sprung stubbornly back into place. “But they’re good people. Traditional. My ma will be very excited when you turn up for dinner.”

“You haven’t told her I’m coming?” She blinked.

“I thought we’d go with the element of surprise.”

She could just imagine how her father would react if she randomly turned up at his house with a man. Then again, the chances of Paul’s family being anything like her own were slim. Like runway model slim.

“How do you think they’ll take it?” She guarded her tone, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the hint of insecurity that grew inside her like a weed. But she needed to prepare mentally if he was going to feed her to the sharks.

“Are you kidding?” He bobbed his head. “They’ll think the sun shines out of your ass.”

Laughter bubbled in her throat at his choice of metaphor. “Why?”

“Because you’re girlie and sweet, but you look like you don’t take any shit from anyone, either.” His eyes lingered on her. “Besides, who wouldn’t think you were the perfect girl for their son?”

“I don’t know.” She sipped her coffee, her hands cradling the colorful mug. “This is a first for me, too. I don’t meet a guy’s parents if I can help it.”

“So I’m popping your cherry, then?”

“I’m serious about making my business work, and I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said, ignoring the innuendo.

“I can see that.” Paul’s expression was guarded, his dark eyes revealing nothing as he interlaced his fingers behind his head.

The pose made his biceps bulge beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt. As it pulled across his chest, Libby’s eyes drifted to the muscles there. He was so…defined.

“So how did we meet?” she asked, dragging her eyes up to his face.

Paul smirked. “Can’t we go with the truth? I picked you up at a bar.”

She shook her head. “No. We met through a friend of a friend, some loose connection no one will ask about.”

“Boring.”

“Believable. We don’t need to be interesting, in fact, the less interesting the better.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We want to seem as normal and unexciting as possible.”

“You’re making our relationship sound like wholegrain cereal.”

She smirked. “Trust me, the less information you give people the easier lying is.”

“You can try that, but my mother puts gossip reporters to shame. Trust me.”

Pulling up into his parents’ driveway with Libby in the passenger seat was weird to say the least. For a guy who’d been called so laidback he could barely stand, he suddenly felt as jittery as a teenager on a first date. Maybe it was because he remembered the exact moment he’d brought Sadie home. While she wasn’t as vibrant and confident as Libby, she’d had that same polish about her. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect smile.

She’s not Sadie, and this is not a real relationship. Relax.

In the close confines of the car Libby’s delicious scent intoxicated him. She smelled like roses and those pink musk candies he’d devoured as a kid. Sweet, heavenly, and utterly addictive.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me before we go in?” She fiddled with the mirror on the passenger side visor, touching a pink gloss to her lips.

“I think we’re good.” He turned, reaching through to the back seat to grab his jacket.

Libby’s throat was inches from his face as his hand groped along the back seat. Her breath stuttered in the silence of the car. Was it his imagination, or did her eyes look a little wider?

“Great.” Her voice came out tight, her smile overbright.

He touched his hand to her arm and immediately regretted it. “We’ll be fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The soft cotton of her top was so thin he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. Her breath hitched before she opened the passenger side door with a little more force than was necessary.

“I’m not worried. Not even a little bit.”

Outside, he shrugged into his jacket. Had he totally lost his mind? Bringing a fake girlfriend home to meet the family was a low move. His mother would fall in love with Libby, he knew that for sure. Talk about giving her false hope.

He swallowed down the desire to turn around and take Libby back to her house. As much as he loved his family, it was their fault he’d been put in this situation. If they didn’t put so much pressure on him to be like his brother he wouldn’t feel the need to lie…would he?

He forced himself to think of the wedding, of the years of criticism and scrutiny his aunts and uncles had heaped on him. Of all the things they’d said to his mother under the guise of being “helpful.” He forced himself to think of Sadie, pregnant with his cousin’s child.

The child he’d once dreamed of having.

Bringing a fake girlfriend home might be low, but he wasn’t a cheating son of a bitch like his cousin. Still, he felt like a dick doing this to his family. Especially his ma.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding out his arm to Libby. “It’s showtime.”

She stood taller against him, having changed into a pair of her signature crazy-high heels. As much as he knew his relationship with Libby was fake, he couldn’t help imagining what she’d look like in only those heels. Like dessert and heaven and sex rolled into one, he’d bet.

Her hand rested lightly on his arm, her body pushed against him. She teetered on the unsteady paving of his parents’ front steps. Each bump of her hip sent a shot of heat through him.

He’d spent the afternoon trying not to think about how attractive she was with that mane of red hair and that perky butt encased in faded denim. In all likelihood he’d failed but, judging by some of the looks she’d thrown him, the feeling was mutual.

“You’re asking for trouble in those shoes,” he said, forcing his attention to something safer than Libby’s distracting curves.

“I’m asking for trouble anyway.” She offered him a sly smile as he rang the doorbell. “The shoes are just the cherry on top.”

Paul was about to ask her what kind of trouble she preferred when a thumping noise came from the house followed by footsteps. “You’re not scared of dogs, are you?”

Libby’s eyes widened as she stepped toward the door. “Not really…I don’t think.”

At that moment the front door burst open and the Chapmans’ very large, very excited Great Dane burst forth. He immediately locked onto Libby and jumped up, throwing his paws over her shoulders.

“Oh my God!” She wobbled on her heels, but Paul grabbed her around the waist from behind, preventing her from toppling over and taking the dog with her.

She stumbled back against him, her ass pushing squarely against his groin as she tried to wriggle free from the dog’s grip. If she hadn’t known about his attraction to her before, she would now.

Trust his libido to come back in full force with the one girl who had a “no sex” policy.

“Down, Cavallo!” His mother’s voice rang out over the commotion. “Siediti!”

The dog relinquished, its large tail thumping against the doorframe. Even seated, the top of his head came up to the bottom of Libby’s ribcage. Cavallo sniffed her and then proceeded to wipe a long strip of doggy drool across her jeans.

“I am so sorry,” his mother said, shooing the dog inside. “He gets very excited when we have guests.”

“It’s okay.” Libby blinked, looking down at her jeans and then back up to Paul, stifling a smile. “Excitement is a natural thing.”

Paul tried to subtly adjust the front of his jeans so his hard-on wouldn’t be noticeable, but the quick flick of Libby’s eyes told him he’d been well and truly sprung.

“Ma, this is Libby…my girlfriend.” It couldn’t have come out any more awkward if he’d tried, but the tension would be lost on his mother. Hopefully so would the guilty tone in his voice.

She looked pleased as punch as she held the door open and motioned for them to come inside. “I’m Leone, so lovely to meet you.”

“Sorry to spring this on you. I understand Paul didn’t let you know I was coming.” Libby shot Paul a mock-stern look.

“Not to worry. We always have plenty of food.” His mother smiled warmly and patted Paul on the cheek.

He could practically feel the excitement shimmering off her. “Don’t make this a big deal, Ma,” he said into her ear.

What the hell was he doing? This was his family, his blood. And he was going to parade Libby around like some kind of magician’s trick. A diversion tactic while he tried to make something of himself in the background. Clearly, he hadn’t been thinking. But it was too late now. His ma was trying her hardest not to burst into a huge smile as she closed the door behind them. “Your brother and Gracie are already here, go through to the table. Dinner will be out in a few minutes.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Libby asked. “I feel bad we didn’t bring a bottle of wine or anything with us.”

“Ma won’t let us bring anything to dinner,” Paul said.

“It’s fine, I’m nearly done. You two take a seat and get something to drink.” Her dark eyes shone as she gave one more pointed look at him before she bustled off down the hallway.

“You could have warned me about the dog,” Libby said, looking down at her jeans.

Cavallo milled around, still intent on sniffing out the new person in the house. Libby reached out and tentatively scratched his head, her shoulders relaxing when she realized the big beast wanted a little affection and not a bite of her hand.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

“His,” Paul corrected. “Cavallo. It means horse in Italian.”

“Fitting.” She laughed. “You could have warned me about something else, too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull.” Her hazel eyes glittered. “I thought we agreed no sex.”

“We agreed not to have it, but there’s not a chance in hell of me not thinking about it.”

A pink flush crawled up her cheeks, and she kept quiet. They spent a few more minutes fussing over the dog, and Paul found a tissue so Libby could clean up her jeans.

His mother’s voice carried through the house, her excited Italian revealing to the others that Paul had brought a girl to dinner. Thankfully, Libby seemed to have no idea what was going on. As if on cue, Gracie poked her head out from the dining room, and a big grin spread across her face. No doubt Des had translated his mother’s pronouncement to her.

“Hello!” She bounded out and gave Paul a quick hug. “Who’s this?”

“Gracie, meet Libby.”

“Welcome,” Gracie said, sticking her hand out.

The girls shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”

Gracie motioned for them to come through to the dining room, turning back to wink at Paul when Libby couldn’t see. Des and their father were already seated at the table, both of them subtly raising a brow when Paul ushered Libby inside.

The introductions went round the table with lightning efficiency, and then the food appeared. Over the clattering of cutlery, serving spoons, and appreciative full-mouthed grumbles, Paul watched as Libby drank it all in with wide eyes.

“So, Libby, I had no idea you were dating my brother. How long have you two been going out?” Des asked, though the implication in his question was why is this the first we’ve heard about it.

“Not that long,” Libby replied, reaching for her glass of water and taking a big gulp. “We only made it official recently.”

Gracie leaned forward, her curiosity undisguised. “And how did you meet?”

“Through a friend of a friend.” She nodded as though convincing herself, but she made a show of squeezing Paul’s shoulder affectionately. “We hit it off right away, something about him felt…perfect.”

“That’s so sweet.” Gracie looked to Des. “Remember when we were like that?”

Des nodded. “We’re still like that.”

“Tell us a little about yourself, Libby.” His mother said, gesturing with a forkful of broccoli. “Since my son has told us nothing.”

The excitement in her voice twisted like a knife in his stomach. What would happen when he and Libby “broke up” after the wedding? Would she go back to thinking that he’d failed her? What if she found out he’d been lying the whole time? He couldn’t let that happen.

Having Libby by his side would help for now, but it was only one part of the plan. He needed to figure out the rest of it before he ended up in a worse position than where he started.