“Probably not. So, what do you say, Evie? Did I prove you wrong?”
I brush my hair behind my ear, ignoring the questioning stare of my two friends, who are now squeezed on the opposite side of the window seat, their gazes seemingly glued to my every move.
“What do you mean?”
“You said Trevor was too smart to buy into the idea of us being a real couple.”
“And he is.”
“You still believe that?”
“I do. He asked if I was only dating you to make him jealous, so he’s certainly skeptical.”
“But he did think you were dating me.” His voice is light and playful. “I think my column deserves points for that alone.”
“This isn’t a game, Julian.”
“Of course it is. Life is merely a game. So are relationships. It’s all about strategy.”
“Is that what this is? Your strategy to get me to agree to your proposition?”
“And if it is?”
I pinch my lips together, carefully considering my words. “Then it seems you’re going to awful lengths when I’m sure you have your choice of women who’d gladly agree to be your arm candy at a few parties in the Hamptons.”
Nora shrieks again, but Chloe jabs her in the side, silencing her. Still, they both stare at me like I’m the three-headed dog from Harry Potter.
“But I don’t want any of them. I want a stunning, irresistible woman who can hold her own in a room full of stuffy businessmen and their stuck-up wives.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree because I—”
“Don’t think you fit that description?” he interrupts, finishing the thought on the tip of my tongue. “Well, you’re wrong. Maybe in your ex-boyfriend’s opinion you don’t, but from what I’ve seen, you’re the perfect person for the job. I’m not looking for someone who can’t form an intelligent thought if her life depended on it, or someone who will only speak when spoken to. I’m looking for someone with edge. Someone who has confidence in spades. That’s you. So let’s do this. I help you. You help me. Tit for tat.”
I chew on my bottom lip, torn. On one hand, I don’t have anything to lose by agreeing. It could work, considering how jealous Trevor sounded just from the idea of me receiving flowers from another man. But on the other hand, there are too many variables, too many ways for this to turn from a strictly business relationship into something…more.
“It’s unwise to agree to this without ironing out all the details. Despite what you may think you know about me, I prefer when there’s a concrete plan.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll make dinner reservations for seven o’clock tonight. Shall I pick you up from your place or the office?”
“Tonight?” I look to Chloe and Nora for guidance. Their eyes are bright with excitement over the prospect of me having dinner with a guy tonight.
Chloe mouths, My place, then winks.
“How about you tell me where and I’ll meet you there.”
“I had a feeling you’d be a challenge.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “If this is to work, we need to give off the appearance of being a real couple.”
“Real couples meet at restaurants all the time, especially in this city. I met Trevor constantly. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we went out when I didn’t meet him there.” The second the words leave my mouth, a pang squeezes my heart.
“And that’s precisely why I’ll always pick you up for every single one of our outings,” he responds, not allowing me to dwell too long on my realization. I wonder if he knows this. “No exceptions. So, again, your place or the office?”
“How about my friend Chloe’s?”
“Is there a reason you don’t want me to pick you up at your place?”
“I moved out.”
“Good girl.” The way he caresses those two words forces me to squeeze my legs together, an ache building as my overactive imagination goes to places it shouldn’t, not when I’m still supposed to be pining for Trevor. “Program this number into your phone. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Hold on.” Jumping off the bench, I head into the bathroom, wanting some privacy. I put him on speaker, then switch to my contacts. “Ready.”
He rattles off his number and I input his information into my phone. “That’s my cell. Text me her address.”
“I will.” I save his number and take him off speaker, bringing my phone back up to my ear.
“No. Right now.”
I groan. “Seriously? Been stood up too many times?” I open the door, stepping back into the living room, only to be met by my friends’ scowls.
“Never, but you’re different from the usual women I find in my company.”
“Fine.” Continuing past Chloe and Nora, I pull the phone away and switch to the message app. After typing out a quick text with Chloe’s address, I hit send, then return my cell to my ear. “Is that a good or bad thing?”
“Only time with tell.” I hear the ping of an incoming message in the background. When he speaks again, his tone is low, almost seductive. “I’ll see you at seven, Evie.”
“I look forward to it.” I stare blankly ahead, about to hang up when I think of something. “Julian, wait!”
“Yes?”
“What’s your last name?”
“My last name?”
“Yeah. In case you turn out to be a serial killer, I’d like Chloe and Nora to know the full name of the man I was last seen with. That way, the police have a head start on tracking down my body to some old, abandoned warehouse in Jersey City you’ve re-purposed as a kill room.”
“Dammit. You’ve figured me out.”
I laugh, a lightness in my chest at how effortless it is to joke with him. I almost don’t want to hang up.
“Gage,” he says finally. “My last name is Gage.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he says.
It’s silent for a moment. Then I blurt out, “Guinevere.”
“Excuse me?”
“My real name’s Guinevere. That’s why you couldn’t find me online. Evie’s a nickname. I had trouble pronouncing my name when I was a little girl and called myself Evie. It just kind of stuck.”
“Guinevere… I like that.” He pauses, then says, “See you in a few hours, Guinevere.”
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is going on?” Chloe asks once the line goes silent. I clutch the phone for a moment longer while I attempt to recover my composure enough to face my friends.
“And who is Julian?” Nora teases.
I turn around, meeting their curious eyes, at a loss for words.
“Based on your conversation, he sent you flowers, which made Trevor jealous, and now you’re going to dinner with him. Who is he and where did you meet?” Chloe presses.
I worry my bottom lip, rubbing my hands along my jeans. What do I tell them? What can I tell them? If I’m supposed to pretend to date Julian, won’t we have to keep up appearances? But this is Chloe and Nora, my two best friends. We’re the three amigas. Three musketeers. Sisters from another mister. Am I expected to keep up the charade in front of everyone?
“Okay.” I blow out a long breath. “But you can not tell a soul. No one else can know about this.” I narrow my gaze on Chloe, my stare harsh, trying to relay the severity of the situation. “This is so far off the record, it would be akin to career suicide if you were to print it.”
“You have my word.” Her light eyes are bright and filled with all the sincerity I’ve come to expect from her, especially when discussing private matters. There are few people I believe when they make me a promise. Chloe’s one of them. “This will stay between us. No one else.”
Secure in her assurance, I walk to the couch and sit down. Chloe and Nora follow, sitting next to each other on the opposite end. Once they’re situated, I face them.
“I spent yesterday morning in the Steam Room, like I have been all week.”
“Yeah, I know,” Chloe says.
“What you don’t know is that as I was trying to figure out who August Laurent is, Mr. Armani Suit came in.”