Page 18 of Strictly Pretend

He pulls out the first page. On it, there’s a photograph of Emma. Black and white so you can’t see the flaming color of her hair, but I remember every damn strand of it. I assume it’s a bad photocopy of her passport, though I haven’t asked.

“This is her?” Linc asks, lifting a brow.

“Yep.” I try to keep my face expressionless.

“The one who told you to shove your offer up your ass?” There’s a smile on his lips.

“That’s the one.”

“She’s very pretty.” He holds the photo up to the light. “Emma Robbins. Twenty-nine years old. Born in Geneva.” He lifts a brow. “Is she Swiss?”

“Read on,” I tell him. So he does.

“She went to Sandford,” he says after a minute. His brows pull together as he looks at me. “How come she has no money? It’s thirty thousand dollars a term. Her parents must be loaded.”

“Her parents are dead. They died when she was thirteen. After that she lived with her grandparents in Oak Hollow.”

“Poor kid.” Linc frowns. “And now you’re trying to take her shop away from her?”

“A shop that makes no money.” I point him to the screenshots of the profit-and-loss statement for The Vintage Verse that my investigator somehow got a hold of. “And I’m not trying to take her shop away from her. Actually, I’ve found a location for her that would work perfectly.” That’s the other thing I’ve been doing. Scouting a retail space that normally wouldn’t pass my radar.

We’ve found the perfect space that could accommodate all three businesses, in a strip mall on the other side of town. The rent is higher than they’re being charged right now, but dammit I’d pay the difference if we could get them out of the building.

“What does she think about it?” Linc asks.

“She hasn’t replied to my emails. The woman is… frustrating.” That’s a damn understatement.

“Pretty and frustrating.” Linc lifts a brow. “Sounds just like your type.”

I roll my eyes. Thank God he doesn’t know who she really is. He’d love it way too much. Because at heart, my brother is a romantic.

I, however, am not.

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I have.” I’ve left five messages. And after the last one I don’t even go to voicemail. “I think she’s blocked me.”

This time Linc actually spits out a mouthful of his coffee. It’s disgusting. “Oh, I like her,” he says. “She has balls.”

I open my mouth to state that she doesn’t. I would have noticed when I was unfastening her dress.

Or kissing her.

Or running my palms over her perfect body.

Damn, I need to get this sorted. She’s putting me off my game, in more ways than one.

“By the way, have you decided when you’re going to Misty Lakes yet?” Linc asks. “Tessa was asking me.”

“No, not yet. I got another wedding to go to first,” I tell him.

“Another?” He grins. “Don’t these people realize you’re like the anti-wedding guy? Where’s this one?”

“Montana. On a ranch.”

“No way.” His eyes light up. “Cows and barbecues. That sounds better than a country club. Who’s getting married this time?”

“Derek. You remember him from college?”

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