Now instead of getting out of here easy and quickly, the situation feels like it is starting to approach telenovela level drama.
How can any of this be real? I hold up a hand for him to pause, then I pinch myself on the arm. Hard. Ouch. Then I do it again. It doesn’t work, though.
I’m still here, in Jellybean’s bathroom with the door locked and the shower running, whispering like a paranoid maniac.
Is he seriously suggesting what I think he’s suggesting? “Wait. Are you seriously saying you want me to be your fiancé?” I shake my head. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. But as I keep saying, I have to get to work.”
He bangs the back of his head gently against the wall, and this time the action makes me feel better because it means that he’s experiencing as much emotional turmoil this morning as he’s causing me. Ha, serves you right.
I run a hand through my hair. Despite all of the drama, he is ridiculously handsome, even first thing in the morning and despite the scowl that he’s wearing. Or maybe because of it.
His green eyes flash at me as I stare at the stubble and the brown hair I still want to run my fingers through. It reminds me of last night. Stop it, Kaylee. Don’t get distracted. Get out of here now. Run!
And then my eyes betray me and drop to the rippling muscles in his arms and chest and even further down to the boxers he’s wearing.
I know the anaconda that’s hiding in there. And I know that if I don’t get out of here right now, I might get sucked into Jellybean’s world again.
Not to mention all of the drama. Am I the only one incapable of a morning after sneak-off?
That’s when his eyes light up. He obviously has an idea. It couldn’t be more obvious even if a giant lightbulb literally appeared above his head. “Listen, I know it wasn’t our deal, Coconut, but what if you stay the rest of the weekend as my fiancé? Don’t worry. It’s not real. Just to help me out. Please.”
I feel my mouth fall open and realize I’m gaping like one of the coconut monkeys from last night. “I’m sorry, what? That’s crazy.”
“Look,” he says, “it’s a business decision, right? You pretend to be my fiancé, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
I stare at him for a long moment. This guy has completely lost his mind.
Chapter Seven
Chase
There are a million things going on in my head right now. Or several million if you count the money on the line.
But I can barely focus on business when I’m looking at her dark curls. And don’t get me started on her curves. My body is already responding to her. Again. Her determined brown eyes stare at me angrily, turning me on even more.
She’s wearing my old college tee shirt too well. The sight of her bending over just a few minutes ago still threatens to banish all rational thought from my brain. I have to fight it. I have to make her understand how much I need this.
“Okay, I realize that saying I’ll make it worth your while seems a little bit,” I try to figure out a tactful way of saying what I mean.
“Sleazy,” she suggests, lifting an eyebrow at me.
“Fine,” I admit. “Making it worth your while was a bad choice of words.”
She clutches her clothes ball tighter to her chest. “Yes, that sounded totally cliché.”
“But let me explain. Please. Two minutes. That’s all I ask.”
She leans on the wall. “You’ve got one hundred and twenty seconds, if I did the math right. Which I can’t guarantee. Because I haven’t had any coffee yet.”
“I’ll get you coffee. All the coffee you want. I just need your help for a few days.”
Chapter Eight
Kaylee
Oh shit. Is he really suggesting what I think he’s suggesting? Even worse, he sounds like a cheap used car salesman: Kaylee Love, what’s it going to take to get you to pretend to be my fiancé today?
“Hang on, what are you asking me? For a price tag?”
He shrugs. “Why not? It’s a win-win. I’m sure there’s something you need or want. And I get to stick it to that awful scheming jerk and keep my company.”
“You’re kidding, right? Or are you just out of your mind? I’m a person, Jellybean. I’m not for sale.”
“It’s not like that,” he insists. “Look, you can make the ground rules here. I just need a few days.”
It’s my turn to bang my head against the wall. If I’m lucky, his brother and sister in the next room will think me and Jellybean are in here having sex and not hashing out the details of a sordid arrangement.
That’s less humiliating somehow. Plus, I realize I haven’t finished changing and I’m still standing here in his tee shirt plus panties. I can’t go to work right now anyway.
I decide to humor him. “Let me sum up here. You’re asking me to pretend to be your fiancé. For the weekend. And in return, you’re saying you will give me money?”
“Exactly! Or designer clothes, shoes, jewelry, whatever.”
I don’t need designer anything. Not my style or budget. The only thing I really want is to get Scrumptious Chocolate off the ground. That is my dream. To own my own business and be my own boss. That would be amazing.
I’ve done all the calculations. Between the cute location I scouted last year, the equipment, and the other startup expenses, I know exactly how much it would cost to get off the ground. Especially since there are already a few established heavy hitters in the local market with business plans I could follow.
Either way, I’ve been asked to come up with a suitable amount of compensation in my head, without coffee, and under
