Page 11 of Fake Dating the Silver Fox

Pressing accept, I hold my breath, then remember to breathe, then exhale through my teeth.

The screen lights up, wavers for a moment and is blurry. I can see the shape of a man, but not clearly.

This is freaking torture.

Then the picture clears, and I see Graham for the first time.

My stomach plummets, because it’s not the first time I’ve seen Graham.

He’s the writer from the café.

ChapterFive

Graham

My nerves,which had been tied in knots moments ago, go crazy. Absolute haywire happens under the surface of my skin as I stare at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen on my phone screen.

Words are what I do for a living, but they fail me horribly. My mouth drops open, but nothing comes out. Luckily for me, I can see the tiny picture of my own face on the screen tucked into the corner above Mara’s gorgeous mane of dark hair.

I look like a damn fish, trying to breathe out of water. Snapping my mouth shut, I focus on the gorgeous woman on the screen.

Her mouth forms an “O” of surprise. “It’s you!”

I’m just as shocked as she is. From the profile picture she used, I couldn’t see her face clearly. Her body? Yes. She had highlighted that perfectly. Full and luscious, her curves had practically jumped off the screen. But her face had been in shadow, and the dog’s bushy tail had covered most of her dark, wavy hair.

Once again, words fail me. “It’s you,” I repeat lamely.

“This is… unexpected.” She runs a hand through her luxurious hair. “You’re not a catfish.”

“I barely know what a catfish is.”

She quirks a brow. “You play the hermit writer who doesn’t get out much quite well.”

“Iama hermit writer.” I turn the camera around so she can see the room I’m in.

She frowns. “That looks like a cave.”

Sparse, messy, and dimly lit, my office could use an update. “My favorite place on Earth.”

“Is that where you wrote ‘From Beyond?’”

I nod, pleasure zinging through my body at the mention of my best-selling novel. That book almost killed me, but it also made me. And the fact that Mara knows about it, called my baby by name, sends a happy dance through my entire body.

Suspicion furrows her dark brows. “When were you planning on telling me?”

I walk into the living room, where the sunlight streams in through the open windows. “I was having so much fun chatting with you. I didn’t want to spoil it.”

Her lids lower, hiding her expression. “I was having fun, too.”

The most fun I’ve had in ages, including my last few relationships. “We have a connection…”

“But?” She smirks. “I hear a but.”

“But… you’re a little young for me. How old are you?”

“It says in my profile.Iwas honest in my profile.”

“So was I.”

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