Page 12 of Designed for Disaster

“So?” I repeated. “Seriously? You say this woman is your idol, and your only response to the idea that you could make her happy is ‘so’?”

She flushed, but her chin jutted out a little, and I could tell she was digging in her heels. “So she’s in for a disappointment when she realizes I can’t stand you and wouldn’t date you in a million years,” she shot back.

“That’s quite a change from the other day,” I taunted.“What was it you said then, about your ‘assets’?”

“Itoldyou that message was a mistake!” she hissed. “I never meant to send it.”

“Sure, you say thatnow…”

“Enough,” she bit out. “Clearly coming here at all was a huge mistake.” She turned toward the door.

Goddamnit.I couldn’t let her leave. Not like this. Not when Nana Dee was waiting for us in the kitchen, showing real enthusiasm for the first time in weeks.I was going to have to get real with her. It might be the only way I could convince her to play along. She needed to know what was at stake.

“My grandmother was diagnosed with congestive heart failure a couple months ago,” I stated—stopping Natasha in her tracks. Slowly, she turned to face me again.

“Is it treatable?” she asked.

“Yes, with surgery…but she’s decided against it.” Natasha’s eyes widened, and I pressed my advantage. “She’s given up on life—but I’m going to change her mind, no matter what it takes. I’ll doanythingto get her engaged and interested again. Whether that means tracking down her favorite furniture designer and commissioning new pieces for her, or…”

“Or faking a relationship with someone who is definitely not your girlfriend?” she replied, though she didn’t sound quite as angry about it now.

“Or faking a relationship with someone I can convince topretendto be my girlfriend.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

Maybe, I thought, watching the way her eyes flicked past me to the sitting room. I stepped aside so she could appreciate the massive antique display cabinet that housed all of Dee’s fine china. “Yes, before you ask, it’s one-of-a-kind.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

I turned into the room, and she followed. Large bookcases lined the far wall. The rest of the space was filled with wingback chairs and a grand piano. Natasha’s eyes went right to the desk we’d messaged about. The one she’d created that Dee loved. She ran her hands along one beveled edge, like she was petting it.

“Does she have a fondness for antiques?”

“Yes. Or commissioned pieces with glass inlay or marquetry.”

“I noticed the stained glass windows,” Natasha said. “Your grandmother has fabulous taste.”

“Which she’d probably love to discuss with you,” I said. “I’m sure it would make her day to know you learned about her in designschool. There’s lots you could pick her brain about. If, you know, you agreed to do me this one little favor.”

“It’s not exactly alittlefavor,” she muttered, though I could tell she was torn, worrying at her bottom lip in a way that was very appealing. She wanted the opportunity to talk with Dee again, to chat about furniture and designs and the commission she’d originally come here for.

“Fine,” she relented with a huff. “I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend. But only in front of your grandmother—and you’d better keep your hands to yourself.”

“Done,” I agreed, relieved she was being more reasonable than she’d been in the coffee shop. “Let’s go have breakfast.”

I escorted Natasha into the kitchen, taking her hand for show. Nana Dee smiled, and Natasha smiled back, though she pulled away the moment we sat down, leaving a good bit of distance between us.

“I didn’t tell you the best part,” I said to Nana Dee as we tucked into bagels and fruit. “Natasha was actually the one who made your desk.”

“The L-shaped one?” Nana Dee said, equal parts excited and impressed.

“That’s the one,” I said.

Natasha’s smile widened. “I really enjoyed making that piece. I’m glad it makes you happy.”

“Natasha and I were talking about some other pieces she could make for you.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Nana Dee said. “I’ve been meaning to redecorate the library.”

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