Page 17 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

He steps closer, his broad shoulders settling beneath his shirt. "Let's just say Alex needs to check his pockets more thoroughly before panicking next time."

“Indeed.”

The lawyer – Ms. Rogers, according to her business card which she somehow produces without disturbing a single perfect blonde hair – clears her throat. "Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand?"

"Of course." Grayson takes one of the vintage leather chairs across from my desk while Ms. Rogers perches on the other like she's afraid it might infect her with whimsy. "We've drafted a preliminary agreement."

She produces a document that's approximately the thickness of a small novel.

"All that for six weeks of fake dating?" I ask, just as a balloon pops in the lobby, followed by what sounds suspiciously like a honking nose.

"Consider it a merger of personal brands," Ms. Rogers says crisply, though her eye twitches at the honking. "Mr. Dixon's reputation needs to show growth beyond algorithms, while your company needs to demonstrate adaptability to modern markets."

"Plus," Grayson adds, "it explains why I was seen fleeing an engagement party with a woman in a very memorable dress."

"I wasn't fleeing. I was moving briskly away.”

"In four-inch heels."

Olivia, still hovering by the door, makes a sound that might be a laugh disguised as a cough.

"Don't you have work to do?" I ask her.

“I just wanted to be around in case any more accidents wentdown.” But she backs away at my glare, closing the door just as another balloon meets its demise in the lobby.

Ms. Rogers flips open the contract. "Shall we begin with the parameters of public appearances?"

"Just a moment." I reach for the bank statement still on my desk. Grayson reaches to help, his hand brushing against mine, sending a jolt through my skin.

I pull back my hand, and he does the same. Placing it back in my lap, I try to ignore the slight tingles running through my fingers.

"Page twelve," Ms. Rogers interrupts, "addresses physical displays of affection. We've created a comprehensive scale of appropriate actions based on venue and audience size."

I stare at her. "You quantified PDA?"

"With variable factors for lighting, camera presence, and social media potential," Grayson confirms. "I find data points help maintain professional boundaries."

"Right. Because spreadsheets are so romantic."

Before I can say more, my office door bursts open. Dani rushes in, slightly out of breath and trailing balloon strings.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Giggles is insisting on performing his 'Love is Like a Three-Ring Circus' monologue, and I thought you should know that Emily Hanning from TechCast is on line one?—"

"Emily Hanning?” I frown. “Who’s that?”

Grayson manages to answer first. “Tech reporter. Pretty famous. Probably saw the phots from last night.”

"I see.” I nod at Dani. “I’ll call her back.”

Dani leaves, and Ms. Rogers starts taking notes.

“Uh huh,” she hums. “Actually, now would be good time to discuss media protocols. Page twenty-seven outlines approved publications and?—"

"I've got it!" Dani announces to someone in the lobby. "Just... please stop juggling the office plants!"

She disappears in a swirl of reddish-blonde curls and balloon strings, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

"Your HR must be interesting," Grayson comments.

---