Thayer glowered at me, her cheeks flushed rosy pink. Likely out of embarrassment that I detected her mistruth, but this was actually her best-case scenario; better me than Millie or her mother. At least I had some sense of discretion.
“A deal,” she repeated.
“Exactly.”
“What’s in it for you? Explain, Bradford.” She leaned back in the black leather chair, crossing her arms tightly against her body. The neckline of her grey cashmere sweater shifted, revealing the slightest hint of cleavage. I made a concerted effort to keep my eyes above shoulder level.
“I need a date,” I said. “Or a girlfriend, rather.”
Between due diligence and the other items that would need to be negotiated, finalizing the deal with Callaghan would take at least a couple of weeks. After further reflection, it was clear that a date for the dinner would be insufficient—a girlfriend was the only logical solution. I couldn’t risk Callaghan getting cold feet and pulling out partway through the closing process over his doubts about me. Being in a committed relationship was the perfect way to cultivate a stable, reliable image and put Callaghan’s mind at ease for good.
But a real girlfriend was obviously out of the question; I was desperate, not insane. Which brought us full circle to this table at the coffee shop, where Thayer and I both needed the same thing.
“I fail to see how that has anything to do with…” Her eyes widened, realization dawning on her face, and her expression hardened. “No. Hell no.”
“In name only, for appearances’ sake,” I said smoothly, like this was the most normal proposition in the world. “Pretend to be my girlfriend and I’ll pretend to be your mystery man everyone’s been talking about.”
Thayer’s fall-themed paper cup crumpled halfway in her hand, causing the lid to pop off. Her upper lip curled into a subtle sneer. “If you think there’s a chance that I would ever—”
She stopped short as a tired-looking woman in a messy bun pushing a black jogging stroller approached, trying to reach the restrooms behind us. The stroller’s oversized rubber tire jostled our table, sending my empty cup rolling onto the floor.
The woman’s hand flew up to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Here, let me move the table over for you.”
Thayer scooted her chair aside, and I grabbed hold of the laminate tabletop, dragging the base over a couple of inches. Leaning down to retrieve my cup, I caught a glimpse of Thayer’s long legs beneath the table, clad in black skinny jeans. Unbidden, the mental image of her legs over my shoulders invaded my brain. As much as I resented Thayer for selling me out back in high school, there was no denying how attractive she was.
Thayer flashed the woman a warm smile, waving at the chubby, dark-haired baby in the stroller. “Hi,” she cooed. “Your baby is adorable.”
With everyone else, she was the epitome of class and manners. Then her eyes fell to me, and her stare turned so menacing that I wished I’d worn a bulletproof vest underneath my charcoal suit.
“Thank you.” The woman gave us a frazzled, apologetic smile and darted off.
“You were saying?” I maintained a neutral expression, pretending not to notice that Thayer was trying to bend the laws of physics and murder me from afar.
She took a hearty gulp of coffee from her rumpled red cup, apparently no longer concerned with decorum now that we were alone. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “You think I’m some cheap date for hire now?”
Of course, I didn’t. Even if Thayer were for hire, we both knew she’d never be cheap.
“I didn’t offer to pay you, I offered to help you. We both know I don’t need to pay women to go out with me.”
“Then ask one of them,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Ah, but dating brings about its own set of complications I’d rather not deal with. This is simply an innovative solution to our respective problems.”
That’s right, I was practically goddamn Elon Musk. She should be thanking me for being so forward-thinking.
Her delicate nostrils flared. “You have problems, all right.”
“It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Quid pro quo.” I gave a one shoulder shrug. There were at least dozen women in my contacts list who would volunteer for this job. Problem is, they’d want a permanent position with a promotion to wife in the future, and I wasn’t hiring.
“But why?” She studied my face, her pale blue eyes wary. “Why do you need a fake girlfriend?”
Progress. If she was asking, she was interested. Or at least curious.
“It seems I have, shall we say, a slight image problem.” No thanks to Adam, that backstabbing shit. I was sure he was the one who leaked those photos. Someday, I’d prove it and exact revenge accordingly.
“You could say that again.” Thayer pressed her lips into a thin line, and she nodded, gesturing impatiently for me to continue.
“For our next round of financing, I’m wooing a high-net-worth investor, Jared Callaghan. He’s all about old-fashioned family values. You know, those silly antiquated things. And due to some of the things he’s heard—not all of them true, of course—he’s not much of a fan of yours truly.”
She drained the last of her coffee, slamming the empty cup down on the table. “Smart man.”
“Long story short, my reputation is a problem. In order to gain Callaghan’s trust, I need to sell myself as a changed man—which includes a respectable, serious girlfriend. I need someone who can help me win him over, and you’re the perfect person for the job.”
In elementary school, Thayer finished her work early and read quietly until everyone else was done, sternly shushing other students who were talking or goofing off (and by other students, I mean me). And in junior high, when most of our peers were experimenting with smoking pot and making out at parties, she hung out with the choir nerds and volunteered on weekends.
Even in high school, she’d refused to participate in the senior prank. I thought filling the teachers’ lounge with helium penis-shaped balloons was harmless, but she had disagreed. I even offered to add breast-shaped balloons for parity, but gender equality must not have been her objection.
Really, the worst anyone could say about Thayer was that she was the definition of Type-A, known for holding everyone else to her impossibly high standards. And, in my opinion, not a whole lot of fun. But on the flip side, she was morally upstanding, trustworthy like a vault, and her reputation was squeaky, soapy clean. She would pass anyone’s background check anywhere, at any time. Once I decided I needed a fake girlfriend, she was the only one who fit that bill.
“You want to con your investor into trusting you,” Thayer said slowly. “Solid plan, Bennett.”
“I prefer to think of it as repairing my image.” Which I still contended shouldn’t need to be done in this day and age, but I needed that money more than I needed the self-satisfaction of sticking to my guns on that point.
“But being linked to you would tarnish my image.”
“Not as much as getting caught inventing a boyfriend.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If this is your idea of persuasion, I have news for you.”
“I don’t think you need persuading,” I said. “Your circumstances are dire enough.”
“Why would I agree to this?” Thayer shifted her weight, crossing her legs under the table. Her foot grazed mine, and she yanked it away like she’d been burnt.
“Have you got better offers beating down your door?” I rested my chin in my hand in mock interest, leaning closer with an expectant smile.
“Well, no.” She blinked, long lashes fluttering. “But—”
“Then pray tell, what is the alternate solution to this problem you’ve created for yourself? This whole fake boyfriend thing?”
We both knew she didn’t have one. Her lie was a grenade, and she’d already pulled the pin.
There was a telltale pause before she replied. “I’ll tell everyone I broke it off.” She jutted her chin defiantly, but fortunately for me, and unfortunately for her, she had a terrible poker face. Good thing she was too prissy to gamble; she’d get taken to the cleaners.
“You sure that will put the issue to rest?” I leaned back in my chair, watching her squirm. Then, I went in for the kill. “You know, Millie is floating the idea that your new beau is married. She’s painting you as the other woman.”
Thayer’s right eye twitched. “So?”
“Our friends are starting to wonder if she’s right.”
“Please.” Her expression was tight. “You know I would never do that.”
I did, and I’d said as much to Millie. But unfortunately for Thayer, the rumor mill didn’t care much for logic or reason.
“It’s not about what I think,” I said. “It’s everyone else you need to worry about.”
Sunlight poured in through the window, casting her in a golden glow as she sat quietly for a moment, mulling over what I’d just said.
Thayer heaved a resigned sigh. “What’s the catch, Bennett?”
“There is no catch.”
“Of course, there is.” She snorted. “What is it? Do I sign over my soul, too? The deed to my condo parking stall?”
All solid ideas, but what I really needed was her.
“I wouldn’t call it a catch, but we might need to commit to the charade for an extended length of time. You know, for believability’s sake.”
“Have you lost your mind? I told people I had a date,” she hissed, bracing her fingers on the table and glancing around the coffee shop. “Not this warped scenario you’re trying to drag me into.” The flush returned to her cheeks, and she raked a hand through her hair, mussing the perfectly styled blonde waves.
Thayer was the picture of composure most of the time, almost never flustered. It was a good look on her; softer and less walled-off. Made me wonder what else might be beneath her frosty veneer. Like pink satin, maybe, or black lace. Or better yet, nothing but silky skin. I doubted Thayer was the type to go commando, though, especially given her line of work.
“You told people you had a boyfriend and that it was serious,” I corrected her.
“Either way, this will never work.” She looked down at the black laminate tabletop, drumming her pale pink fingernails in thought. Then she shook her head and lifted her chin, eyes glacial and tone to match. “No one would ever believe I’d date you.”
“Ouch,” I said dryly.
She shrugged. “Truth hurts.”
“Lots of women would jump at the chance to become Mrs. Bennett Bradford.”
Thayer curled her cherry-red lip in disdain. “There are also people who eat laundry detergent pods. I bet the Venn diagram for those is a perfect circle.”
Despite myself, I laughed. Thayer was one of the few people who could successfully burn me. It didn’t happen often, of course, and she had to work for it, but once in a while she landed a jab.
“What’s your real objection?” I set down my cup. “Scared you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
“More like scared I’ll end up strangling you.” She held out a hand, examining her flawless manicure. “I’d rather avoid jail time. I hear the food is dreadful.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
She heaved a sigh, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Look, I might consider it, but I don’t think anyone will buy it.”
“You’re running out of other options, as am I.” I stood up, pushing my chair back. “Just say yes. We both know you’re going to.”
Her gaze drifted from my face to my chest, continuing past my waist. Then her eyes snapped up to meet mine and she blinked rapidly, like she’d caught herself and was reverting back into Thayer-bot mode.
Thayer pursed her crimson lips and exhaled, the hardened mask slipping back on. “Or what? You’re going to tell everyone?”
It was strange how little she seemed to think of me, when I’d never actually do that. I knew firsthand what it was like to be burnt at the societal stake. Then again, Thayer thinking that was a risk wasn’t the worst thing right now, either.
“They’ll figure it out on their own pretty quick.”
She snatched her leather purse off the back of her chair, pushing to stand. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m willing to take my chances.”
“I doubt that very much,” I said. “Offer’s good until Friday. Then you’re on your own.”
