Faking It to Making It. Ally Blake
Читать онлайн книгу.
more faith that he wasn’t a psycho killer?”
“I don’t jog.”
His mouth kicked, as if his smile surprised even him.
Her cheek twitched in response. He noticed, and the glint in his eyes changed. Deepened. Found some kind of heat. At which point his gaze dropped to her mouth, the dip at the bottom of her neck, then moved back to her eyes.
While Saskia struggled to remember how to breathe.
But while Nate Jackson Mackenzie, with his good looks, air of money and charm that could lure a siren to dry land, was probably used to having women fall all over themselves whenever he walked into a room, Saskia wasn’t most women.
Which was why, when he stretched out a leg beneath their small table, his calf connecting with hers and shooting sparks up her leg, she said, “I didn’t sign up to Dating By Numbers in an effort to find my one true love.”
The slight rise of an eyebrow gave her the impression he didn’t believe her.
Wow. Okay. So that irked. Maybe that was his great flaw: he could be irksome.
She whipped her bag onto her lap, found a business card and thrust it in his direction. “I’m a freelance statistical researcher working on an infographic about online dating for the website.”
She could have pumped a fist in the air at the surprise that coloured his eyes at that one! And then from one heartbeat to the next his brow furrowed and she saw the brain behind those dauntingly beautiful eyes whir into life. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might leave, but the longer he sat there, staring at her card, the more she wondered. And hoped that he’d stay.
He finally, finally, pocketed her card and said, “And to think you all but accused me of being a possible psycho killer.”
“I’m a mathematician,” she said. “Not exactly the same.”
“I thought the point was that people lie.”
“I—What?” Irked didn’t even touch on how that made her feel. Punctuating her words with a waggly finger, Saskia said, “I said I was looking for somebody to talk to, which is completely true.”
One eyebrow cocked. “Safer to say it was bending the truth?”
“Not even slightly. It’s not my fault if you misunderstood my meaning.”
She crossed her arms, knowing she sounded defensive. But it was hard to be all sweetness and light when he was watching her the way he was. All charm and half smiles were gone as he looked her over, as if he was sizing her up for something. Hopefully not a hole in the ground.
Then he did some surprising of his own when next he said, “My motives for dating online aren’t altogether pure either.”
Ignoring the “altogether pure” jab, Saskia attempted to raise an eyebrow right back at him. But she’d never mastered the skill, so probably ended up looking astounded. She schooled her features back to normal. “You said you were after a date for a wedding?”
“I am. But recent events have meant my needs have altered a little.”
“Do I need to call my back-up plan?”
He laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that made her knees clench together.
“The greater problem, for me, is that I have three sisters who seem to think it’s their mission in life to find me a wife. Thus, I let slip that I already have a date for the wedding, and that this date and I are…seeing one another.”
“Let me get this straight. There are no women in your life who would happily go with you to a wedding, so you made one up?”
“Not one who would understand that it wasn’t the beginning of something more.”
Okay. Now she’d met the guy, she could see that. Saskia felt herself nodding.
He went on, “What I need, Saskia, as well as a wedding date, is someone who would be willing to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
Still nodding, she realised he’d stopped talking and was looking at her intently. As if waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“Are you dating anyone at the moment, Saskia?”
“Am I—?” Saskia thought of Lissy, Dropkick Dave and snapped carrots. “I wouldn’t have signed up to a dating site if I was.”
“But you’ve signed up even though you’re not looking for ‘The One’?”
Her mouth twisted. He had her there.
“So, how do you feel about bending the truth just a little while longer?”
Saskia blinked, the meaning of his words coming through slow and sluggish. “You want to do all that…with me?”
His nostrils flared slightly, as if he was weighing his options one last time. Well, to hell with that. She was nobody’s—
“Yes,” he said with a determined nod.
“Right.”
Saskia so wished she had pen and paper at hand as whatifs, problems and possibilities, questions and escape routes burst inside her head, spearing away into a million tangents.
“But…can’t you just tell your sisters no? Tell them…what-ever your problem really is?”
Secret wife? Secret difficulty in the bedroom? Secret identity? She itched to ask.
But when a muscle flickered in Nate’s cheek and a moment later he lifted a thumb to his right temple, she thought best not. Best not tell him his idea was crazy either. Pretend girlfriend. Sheesh! Only he didn’t look crazy. He looked as if he was at the end of his rope.
And just like that the curly tingles in her belly pinged into perfect straight lines.
Could it be possible that Nate Mackenzie needed her after all?
It had been months since she’d felt that flicker of purpose. Just because one man had thrown her benefaction back in her face so cruelly, it didn’t mean she wasn’t damn good at it.
“You’re serious?” she asked.
Nate’s thumb stopped rubbing his temple and he looked her dead in the eye. Saskia tried her very best to not wriggle as all that gorgeous intensity trickled through her like over-carbonated bubbly.
“As serious as a man can be,” he said.
Mr Rita and his boys arrived at that moment, with plates of colourful bruschetta and fat, shiny strips of barbecued calamari and green salad. But, while Saskia usually had to stop herself from leaning over and kissing the plate, her eyes never once left Nate’s.
“Buon appetito!” said Mr Rita.
As one Nate and Saskia said, “Grazie.”
And then they both smiled.
Saskia took a breath. “I’m…” Flabbergasted, bemused, actually considering this? “I don’t know how to put this, but I’m not sure if I can pull it off. You’re—not the kind of man I usually date.”
“You might be surprised to know you’re not the kind of woman I usually date either,” said Nate, laughing as if the world had finally found its natural order.
She kind of wanted to kick him in the shin. In fact…
“Oof!” he said, sitting up and rubbing at the spot.
“Sorry.” She shuffled on her seat, as if that had been her intention the whole time. “So how would this work, exactly?”
“It’s the first Saturday in spring. You free?”
She did the math in her head. “I believe