Page 28 of Should Have Been Me

“For your father. To spare him the grief.” And for Vaughn, who was stuck in the middle. But something told me he wouldn’t appreciate hearing that, so I left it unspoken.

He arched that sexy brow again. “You’re sure?”

I waved him off and blew out a raspberry. “Please. I’m a professional, thank you very much. I’ve totally got this.” I lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. “And if I don’t, they’ll never be able to point the sabotage back at me.”

I could see the humor in his gaze. “Tomorrow, Jolie.”

“Tomorrow, City Slicker. And don’t forget to apologize to Becca on your way out.”

I closed the door on his unhappy growl, waiting until I heard his footsteps leading away before I started laughing.

14

JOLIE

Iwasn’t sure why I felt so nervous, but as I stood in the center of my living room, turning a slow circle to inspect everything, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart banged around inside my chest like a pinball.

I’d had what I called low-grade anxiety all day long at the thought of Vaughn coming to my house so we could discuss this fake relationship we’d agreed to. It had been a test for my sanity having him in my office the day before. The thought of him being in my home made my skin tingle and my blood pump too fast. Those red cells were shooting through my veins like the cars at the Indy 500. Tarryn and Ryan hadn’t missed it either, and those jerks had gotten a real kick out of teasing me mercilessly. They knew the truth about my and Vaughn’s little stratagem, but they’d been sworn to secrecy, and I trusted they would take the truth to their graves. That didn’t mean they weren’t going to give me hell about my new boyfriend in the meantime.

I’d raced home from work an hour early so I had enough time to get dinner started, then spent the better part of the evening cleaning my house from top to bottom until I could see my reflection in every surface.

The lasagna was done, the garlic bread was warming in the oven and filling the house with the most incredible smells, and I’d mixed up a fresh salad that was waiting in the fridge to be pulled out. I’d even stopped off at Sinful Sweets for some of Chloe’s delicious mini chocolate tarts for dessert.

I couldn’t tell you why I’d pulled out all the stops the way I had, I hadn’t been able to stop myself. But as the minutes ticked closer to the time Vaughn was set to arrive, I started to question everything. What if he didn’t like pasta or had some kind of gluten or dairy allergy? What if the candles I lit simply because I loved candles made the whole vibe feel too romantic? What if he took one look at my house and thought small and unimpressive?

Smoosh came traipsing in, plopping down on her furry ass and staring at me with those judgmental yellow eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I scolded. “I would have done all of this for any guest I had coming over.”

She blinked. We both knew I was lying. For the most part, my house stayed pretty clean, and every Sunday I scrubbed and dusted and mopped. But if it had been my parents or friends coming over, I would have already been dressed in my pajamas, having lost my bra the moment I walked through the door, and the stack of mail that had been sitting on my kitchen island still would have been there, along with last night’s dishes that had been “soaking” in the sink all day.

I narrowed my eyes at my critical cat. “Please. Like you have any right to judge me. You clean your private parts right out in the open for everyone to see.”

As if to prove she didn’t give a single shit, she hiked her back leg straight in the air and started bathing herself, her kitty way of giving me the middle finger, I was sure.

“Stop that. And you better be on your best behavior tonight. You didn’t exactly make us look good last time. I’ve tried talking you up, but he’s still skeptical, so I expect you to put your best foot forward.”

I must have gotten through to her, really made her feel guilty, because she stood up and moved closer, arching her back and rubbing herself against my legs as she made a figure eight between my feet, purring like she was the most loving, docile feline in all the world. Bending down, I scooped her into my arms and lifted her up, snuggling her into my chest.

“I can’t stay mad at you when you get all cute like that. Who’s Mommy’s wittle smoosh face, huh? Are you my wittle smoosh face?”

Just then the doorbell rang, sending a shockwave through me like the earth had moved beneath my feet. I closed my eyes and pulled in a breath through my nose, counting to ten to get my pulse under control. This was ridiculous. I usually only felt like this when I was getting ready for a first date, and that couldn’t have been further from the case tonight. This wasn’t a date. This was... a strategy session. There was no reason for me to be such a massive jumble of nerves.

The bell rang again, jolting me back into reality and telling me I’d been standing frozen for too long.

“Be right there,” I called out, bending to put Smoosh back on the floor. I headed toward the door, brushing at the front of my shirt to get rid of the cat hair. I’d opted for casual tonight, changing into a pair of loose-fitting jeans that were cropped at the ankle and had a frayed hem. I paired it with a gray scoop-neck tank with a drawing of a sunrise that I half tucked at the front. I’d decided to go barefoot so it didn’t seem I was trying too hard—counting myself lucky I’d gotten a pedicure earlier in the week—but had refreshed my makeup and hair as soon as I got home.

With one last deep, cleansing breath, I grabbed hold of the knob, pulled the door open, and got my first glimpse of Vaughn Cavanaugh standing on my front porch. And it was enough to make my mouth drier than the Sahara.

Once again, he was in a suit—today’s was black with a white button-down beneath. He’d forgone a tie, leaving the collar unbuttoned just enough to give me the smallest peek of that divot at the base of his throat between his clavicles. I never thought of that spot on a man as sexy. Until right then.

His suit jacket was brushed back so he could put his hands in the pockets of his slacks, putting his trim waist on display, and if I cocked my head to the side and squinted, I was certain I could see the outline of ab muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“Are you going to invite me in or am I going to have to stand here all night while you leer at me?”

That sure as hell snapped me out of it. I lifted my eyes to his face. His lips were in a flat line, but I saw the humor dancing in his gaze and glared. “I wasn’t leering, jackass. I was wondering if you owned any kind of clothing other than suits. Be honest, you sleep in them too, don’t you?”

“Of course not. I sleep in pajamas that have a suit screen printed on the front. Kind of like those tuxedo T-shirts.”

---