Page 39 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

"Right. Champagne."

“What they served here was very…bubbly."

“Yeah. Bubbly. Extremely effervescent."

We stare at each other in the dim light, neither moving away.

My phone chooses that moment to buzz. Dani again:Emergency! Sir Galahad just challenged the entire board of Microsoft to trial by combat! Also, William's panic-baking has reached critical mass. Send reinforcements and/or Tupperware.

Lowering my face, I step away, sliding the silk of my gown back in its proper place.

"We should probably…I should…”

"Handle the medieval crisis?" He straightens his tie. “That would be very professional of you."

"More professional than making out in coat closets."

Something flashes in his eyes, but before he can respond, the coat attendant’s voice carries through the door: “Hello? Is anyone in there? The door seems locked.”

I close my eyes, counting to ten. When I open them, Grayson's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.

"Just business," I remind us both.

"Of course." His CEO coolness slips back into place. "Nothing personal at all."

But as we rejoin the party, his hand finds the small of my back again, and I can't help thinking that some calculations just don't add up.

Especially when they involve hot fake billionaire boyfriends that you can’t keep your hands off of.

11

THE GREAT COFFEE CONSPIRACY

Downtown Seattle,WA

GRAYSON

The problem with kissing someone in a coat closet is that it makes it very difficult to maintain proper statistical objectivity.

"Sir," CORA announces as I stare at Meet Cute Coffee Co.'s financial projections, "your heart rate elevates approximately 12.3% every time you review these numbers."

"That's because they're concerning numbers," I lie to my AI. "Not because of... other factors."

"Actually, sir, when cross-referenced with your physiological responses during recent interactions with Ms. Carpenter?—"

"Mute, CORA."

Three days after the charity gala, and I still can't focus on anything except the way Rosalind felt in that closet, all warm curves and soft whimpers and?—

My office door bursts open. Connor strides in, followed by Alex, both wearing expressions that suggest they've caught me doing something embarrassing.

Like analyzing a coffee shop's profit margins at 7 AM on a Tuesday.

"Interesting reading material?" Connor peers at my screens. "Because unless Meet Cute Coffee Co. has suddenly become a SecureMatch subsidiary..."

"I'm doing market research." I minimize the spreadsheets, but not before Alex spots them.

"Market research? On the coffee shop where your fake girlfriend spends half her time?" He drops into one of my chairs. "The same coffee shop whose owner just announced possible closure?"

---