I hope our love will be like the number Pi: irrational and endless.
—DERNA
“Who doesn’t like Monopoly?” Chris asked, outrage in his voice.
“Me. I hate it,” I replied.
He grunted and continued to flip through the pages in front of him. After the meeting yesterday, Piper had given us homework: a huge packet of questions meant to help us get to know each other fast. It had taken hours to fill out.
“Wait. You’re afraid of frogs?” He dropped the packet, eyebrow raised. “You’re joking, right?”
“I do not joke about frogs.”
The questions ranged from the benign to the intimate. Nothing was off-limits, including perfect first date, saddest memory, childhood best friend, and preferred underwear style (which I refused to answer, and Chris did—boxer briefs).
He flung an arm around my shoulders. “I solemnly swear to protect you from all frogs, both foreign and domestic.”
“You are hilarious.”
“If you’ll look, I believe you’ll see I listed ‘great sense of humor’ under my best traits.”
“Along with excellent physique, good hair, and humble attitude. And your fears?” I searched for his answer. “Nothing. You wrote the word, nothing. I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.”
Piper entered the dining room impeccably dressed in a sharp red pantsuit and mile-high heels. I was beginning to think of this as Command Central for Operation Faking It and Piper was the general in charge. Doug had scurried back to his office in New York earlier in the day for which I was hugely grateful.
“Alright, lovebirds. You can go back to that in a bit. We need to look at the contract.” Piper passed me a manila folder.
“Contract?” I hesitated to open the folder.
Piper smiled reassuringly. “It’s pretty standard.”
“Do you organize a lot of these fake engagements?”
“More than you think.”
Right.
“Before we go over this,” Piper said, her expression serious, “is there anything you need to let us know about?”
My stomach twisted. “Like what?”
“Are you secretly married?” she asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Have you been engaged? Dated any men who might try to cause problems?”
“No engagements.” I squirmed in my seat. “I don’t think my ex will be an issue.”
“Who’s the ex?” Chris asked, turning toward me.
With a sigh, I closed my eyes. “Peter Stone. We dated for two years.”
The ensuing silence was broken by Chris’s snort of laughter. “No kidding?”
“I would not kid about that.” I would, however, love to erase it from my memory.
“Huh? What happe—?”
I held up a hand. “Nope. Not talking about it.”
Piper cleared her throat. “Have you spent time in prison?”
An image of my father flashed in my mind. I hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough for Piper to zero in on me.
“We’ve done a background check. The results will be here later this week. If there’s something we need to know, now’s a good time.”
“I’ve never been to prison, but my father has. Several times.”
Piper picked up a pen. “His name?”
“Do we really need to talk about him? I haven’t seen or heard from him in three years. He could be anywhere at this point.” Hopefully a Mexican prison. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“His name?” Piper repeated.
“Dale Sampson.” I turned to Chris. “I didn’t think about saying anything sooner. I understand if this is a dealbreaker.”
I wouldn’t beg. I was doing fine on my own before all this came into my life and I’d be fine after it disappeared. But for one moment it had seemed like I was going to get a break.
Without looking away from me, Chris said, “Piper?”
She clicked her pen. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good.” He picked up the forgotten contract. “Let’s get back to this.”
Slowly, I filed through this new packet. Our engagement would last approximately three months, or until my services were no longer needed. I would be required to do interviews, like on television, if the need arose. I couldn’t be seen with any other man (obviously). All transportation and other expenses would be paid. I’d get the money at the end of the three months.
I paused at one of the clauses. “I have to quit Chicky’s?”
“We’ll need you for weekends,” Piper explained. “Plus we’re going for small-town librarian, not Daisy Dukes and push-up bras.”
“But I need that income.” I rubbed my forehead with my fist. “If I’m not getting paid for three months, what am I supposed to do until then?”
“I’ll pay you upfront for the time off,” Chris said. “Will that work?”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t have to quit. You can take a break. I’ll talk to your manager. We’ll work it out.”
I frowned. “No, I’ll talk to my manager. My job, my responsibility. You aren’t here to rescue me. We’re both getting something out of this. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship.”
Chris straightened in his seat. “I don’t see why putting a word in would be a bad thing.”
“No,” I said firmly.
We went back to the contract, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Chris didn’t get it. I had always taken care of myself. The men I’d had in my life sure hadn’t done it. First, my father. Then Peter. I wasn’t being stubborn; I didn’t need anyone else’s help.
“The PDA Clause?” My eyes darted to Piper.
Piper folded her hands and placed them on the table. “You’re engaged. You need to do engaged people things.”
My stomach dipped. “Like?”
Her gaze moved between the two of us, a patient expression held there. “Well, kids, when two people love each other, they do things like hold hands, touch here or there, kiss.”
Kissing? My brain caught on that word and started to send panicky signals everywhere. Of course, you idiot. You’re fake-engaged. Kissing is what real-engaged people do. Unless they’re part of those weird cults who save their kisses for their wedding day. I wonder if I could convince them I’m in one of those?
“How much PDA are we talking?” I asked.
Piper leaned back in her seat. “I don’t know that it’s something we can really quantify, to be honest.”
“Let’s try,” I said. “To quantify it, that is.”
“I would hope every time you’re seen in public.”
“That seems fair.” Chris nudged me with his shoulder. “Am I that repulsive? I promise I brush my teeth at least once a week and I’ll stop eating garlic cloves but if we come across any vampires, that’s on you.”
The problem was all this intimacy was kind of alarming and not because it would be awful.
Let’s face it. Chris was no slouch in the sex appeal department (hello, People’s Sexiest Man). The problem was that I might kind of, sort of, enjoy it. And that would be terrible. This was purely a business transaction. I was his friend. Anything more than that was not happening. No, sir. Not on my watch.
I looked down my nose at him. “You are slightly revolting, but I’ll figure out how to get through it.”
He smirked. “Besides, this is all for show. It’s not like it means anything.”
“Right. No feelings involved. It’ll be like kissing my brother.”
“Exactly,” he said. “It’s business.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourselves,” Piper said. “We want you to cause a little stir. Enough to get your photos in the blogs and take the attention away from the bad press. So, I need you to be adorably, sickeningly in love. Which leads me to this week. Our first goal is to get this town to see you fall in love.”
“Is that all?” I muttered.
Chris rubbed his hands together with something like glee. “Let’s do this.”
It was going to be a very long week.
