Ronan
For the second time in the space of a week, I felt like kissing Joan, and it wasn’t because she was such a handsome specimen of a woman. Seemingly, she was becoming my very own fairy godmother; I wasn’t yet sure if this was her intention, but I’d roll with it anyway.
Annie had gone very, very quiet ever since Joan announced her misunderstanding that we’d planned and staged our earlier interactions, that we’d planned for Annie to pose as my fake girlfriend. Her worry was written all over her face. In a way, I could understand her obvious reluctance since I’d been sending her gifts all week, and she probably thought I was some sort of obsessive psycho.
I’ll admit I’d been coming on a bit strong, but I was in New York all alone and had a lot of time on my hands. For some reason, over the past few days my mind had kept wandering to Annie, hence the gifts. So yeah, it was a combination of boredom and spending way too much time thinking about her lips and that lush little body of hers. I wanted in, and my dick thought presents would be the way to get there. God, I could still taste her on my tongue, could still hear the tiny moans she made, the way her breathing stilted and became sexy little pants.
I could also still taste the bitterness of her rejection. It hadn’t just caught me off guard; it had pissed me off. She didn’t want to change; she said she liked hiding in her comfortable little world, and yet the way she kissed me said otherwise. Now all I could think about was rattling her cage.
We followed Joan into the conference room where Rachel and Ian were waiting. Rachel wore a big, encouraging smile while Ian’s face was schooled into an expression of grudging respect with a dash of cynicism. Perhaps he suspected those photos of me and Annie weren’t so much staged as they were perfectly real.
I sat down on a chair, and Annie took the one beside me. Her movements were slow and awkward like she was in a daze, and when she placed her hands in her lap, I could see that they were shaking. I didn’t like seeing her like this. I knew she was reeling from the fact that pictures of us shoving our tongues down each other’s throats were currently making the rounds on the World Wide Web. And now I wanted to kill the Internet just for making her feel that way. I’d always been protective of the females in my life, but this was coming on so quickly it was almost disconcerting.
Reaching over, I tried to take one of her hands in mine to soothe her, but she quickly pulled away. The glance she gave me was a very clear communication: No.
“So, we’re a little ahead of the game with this,” Joan began as she sat down at the table. “Brona’s story won’t be going live on this side of the world until this evening, and already the Internet is abuzz with these pictures. Everyone loves it when a celebrity starts dating a non-celeb. It gives them hope that it could one day happen to them. I swear, you two” —she paused and waggled her finger between me and Annie— “this was a stroke of pure genius. Annie, darling, I may need to give you a raise.”
“There’s no need for that, Joan,” Annie said softly. “In fact, about those pictures….”
“We’re very surprised how quickly they got online. Shocked the fuck out of me, pardon my French. We were only at the café twenty minutes ago,” I cut in, sensing that Annie had been about to confess everything.
“Yes, Mr. Fitzpatrick, the wonders of modern technology continue to astound and amaze,” Joan replied. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a touch of sarcasm in her voice. Then she clapped her hands together. “There’s lots to do, lots to do, but first, the uncomfortable part. I need to ask you a question, and you need to answer me honestly.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Go for it.”
“Is there any truth to your ex-fiancée’s claims? Or, I’ll put it more bluntly, did you ever beat your ex?”
Annie sucked in a shocked breath while Rachel and Ian stared on blandly. A knot of anger tightened in my stomach at being reminded of Brona’s most recent antics. Spending the morning with Annie had made me forget for a time, but now all the frustration and fury were easing their way back in.
“No, there’s no truth to her claims, Joan.”
“So you were never violent with her?”
I tightened my jaw and flexed my hands. “No.”
“Well, I’d like to say I’m surprised, but sadly there are a lot of ambitious sycophants out there with dark and vivid imaginations, imaginations that allow them to dream up all kinds of titillating stories. Unfortunately, the press eats these stories up like cockroaches at a restaurant in New Jersey.”
I winced both at her analogy and also at the fact that, well, in a way I was lying. Don’t get me wrong—I never once lifted a hand to Brona in physical violence—but I suspected where her story was coming from. And, quite frankly, if she did have proof, then I was well and truly fucked. I could actually feel myself sweating just thinking about it.
Joan was still talking about strategies, and I was staring at Annie, trying to gauge how she was reacting to all this. I felt certain she would not be pleased about being my girlfriend—pretend or otherwise. Only a half hour ago, she was quite fervent in proclaiming that she didn’t want a relationship with me. That she was too messed up.
“So what do you think, Annie?” Joan asked as she came to the end of her spiel.
“I….” Annie began hesitantly and cleared her throat. “Of course, yes. I’m so pleased to help.”
At her words, I felt electricity shoot through me. She wanted to give this a go? I wanted to high-five the fuck out of myself then do a victory dance. But I didn’t, because, you know, manly.
“Well, obviously. You did come up with it, didn’t you?” said Ian with a derisive chuckle and a hint of impatience. I didn’t like his tone. In fact, it made me want to smack the prick.
Annie swallowed. Ian’s comment had clearly made her even more anxious than she already was. Without thinking, I put my hand softly on her thigh beneath the table; surprisingly, it seemed to calm her. At least her hands stopped shaking.
She continued, her voice still quiet but with a flat matter-of-factness, “I match the majority of the criteria, and my past makes up for any deficiencies in physical appearance. I’ll be a sympathetic figure with the public.”
I couldn’t help but give her face and body a quick up-down-sweep, nor did I try to stop my single-eyebrow raise. Deficiencies in physical appearance? She must not own a mirror or be at all aware of the wolfish stares that followed her around the street…and the office.
And what was this about her past making her a sympathetic figure?
“Oh, don’t be so modest,” said Joan. “You match all of the criteria. Now what we have to do is continue to have you both seen in public. A romantic rendezvous here, a stolen glance there, perhaps a passionate clinch or two along the way, and you’re all set. I’m taking it you both possess the acting skills to pull this off.”
Annie quietly nodded, and I grinned at her, running my hand down her thigh and squeezing her knee before letting go. I knew for a fact that neither one of us needed acting skills. Hell, the sexual tension between us could almost be considered another entity, it was so thick. Every time I looked at her, all I wanted to do was bury my face in her neck and lose my hand up her skirt.
The fact that she was now wearing clothes that highlighted her supple figure, rather than disguised it, made not touching her that much more difficult. Then I remembered the reason why she was dressing this way, and I frowned. I needed to have a word with Joan.
Thankfully, the meeting was brief, and while I’d been scanning Annie’s body, everyone stood to leave. Annie was the first one out of her seat. I caught her by the elbow before she could escape and murmured in her ear.