Page 29 of You've Got Male

“Neither am I. Just answer and tell him I’m already taken,” she begged. “Then we’ll be even.”

“Even?”

“From me picking up Waverly at the last minute the other day.”

The phone rang, louder and more demanding than the last time. Evie rubbed her head as if the ringing was causing her acute pain.

The phone gave one final ring and went silent. Evie sagged against the steps with relief.

It immediately rang again.

“You don’t have thirty seconds to help an old friend out?”

“Fine. I’ll do it. But then we’re even. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” There was a raw vulnerability that nearly did him in.

He took the phone. “What do you want me to say?”

“Make something up. Be creative.”

He hit speakerphone. “Evie’s phone, who’s this?”

The phone remained silent.

“Hello?” he prompted.

“Brad,” a male’s voice came through the phone. It was perturbed and pissy and, Jonah was pretty sure, presumptuous. “Is Evie there?”

Evie’s big brown eyes gave a please-don’t-rat-me-out plea. “Unfortunately, she’s a little indisposed at the moment.” Jonah flashed Evie a wicked smile, and wariness stopped her cold. “Hey baby, your bra is over there. No, hanging from the ceiling fan.” Then back to Brad. “Women, am I right? Anyway, can I take a message?”

“Wrong number.”

The line went dead.

Evie blinked at the phone and then him. “Ceiling fan? That’s what you came up with?”

“You said I could be creative. Should we call Brad back and ask his opinion?”

She jerked the phone away. “Don’t you dare. I mean, now he thinks we were…”

“Were what, sunshine?”

Evie blinked twice and then this amazing smile overtook herexpression. “Oh my God! That was actually perfect!”

“I’m sorry? Did you just compliment me?”

“I’m as surprised as you are.” She turned to face him. Her eyes went wide as saucers, her lips slightly parted as she drew in a breath. It was an a-ha expression if he’d ever seen one. His gut told him to run. “He thinks I’m taken.”

“Wasn’t that the point?”

“Yes. And it worked perfectly on Brad.” She clapped with glee. “Now we just need to convince America that I’m off the market.”

“We?” A sinking feeling started in the pit of his stomach and his warning bells sounded. “How do you intend to accomplish that?”

“By getting myself a fake boyfriend. And since you and I are at the bra-on-the-ceiling-fan point of our relationship now, and I trust you, I was thinking that you’d make the perfect—”

“You hate me.”

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