Page 21 of The Hanukkah Hoax
Besides, one thing he did know a fair bit about was being charming and adaptable. For better or worse, those skills had done him a great kindness over the years, and he saw no reason not to employ them on Marisa’s behalf.
“I think it all sounds like a solid plan. I confess, though, you may have to catch me up to speed on a few of the traditions.”
Marisa swiped her hand in avid dismissal. “Oh, no worries there. With any luck, we’ll be able to duck out of there after candle lighting. The main tradition with my family, unfortunately, usually involves me avoiding everyone as much as possible.”
“Even when you’re the birthday girl?” Alec tried to let some of his enthusiasm shine through in his grin, hoping to at least somewhat smooth out the crease between her brows that had been a near constant guest during dinner. When the worry remained and she stayed silent even after he stole one of her garlic knots without her swatting him away—which, though he only knew her a short time, somehow seemed like a very Marisa thing to do—he attempted a different approach. They were, after all, in a battle strategy session, were they not?
Alec took a nibbled pizza crust dangling from Marisa’s hand, set it on her plate, and linked his larger fingers between hers. That earned him a soft inhale and a delightful spark of surprise flashing through her brown eyes. “If it’s a possessive boyfriend you’ll be needing, someone to scare away the scrutiny of doting family members and the attention of other men, that’s a role I can fill wholeheartedly. I know a thing or two about intimidation tactics. That and I’ve yet to meet a mature woman I haven’t managed to win over. Don’t know what it is, but females of a certain age tend to love me.”
A ghost of a smile pulled the corner of Marisa’s lips a hair higher. It was just enough for Alec to both consider it a win and find encouragement to do better. He’d have her fully smiling by the time the party hit, he was certain.
“It’s the brogue/bicep combo,” Marisa said, hiding the slight amusement he’d managed to coax out of her with another bite of pizza crust, though she still kept her other hand entwined with his, he was happy to see. “I’m sure the blue-hairs love that stuff. Remember, Sean Connery was their James Bond for most of their hormone-fueled years.”
Alec slapped his hand on the table. “Then it’s James Bond I’ll be, except without any of the smoking, womanizing, or persnickety drink preparation requests. There. It’s all settled.”
Marisa shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m your boyfriend. At least for the time being.”
As they enjoyed the rest of their pizza and garlic knots, Alec couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement at what he’d agreed to.
Or how a greater part of him was actually looking forward to starting their dating rumor.
Chapter 8
While it wasn’t strictly necessary for Marisa to accept Alec’s offer of walking her home, a gaffe he’d charmingly stammered over once she reminded him where she lived, her body still buzzed with the excitement of not wanting to leave Alec just yet. Add in that he’d just witnessed her take down an entire kid’s birthday party’s worth of pizza, thanks to Enzo refilling their table two more times, and still hadn’t made an excuse to leave her for the evening?
Yeah, she had zero problem letting him escort her home, even if the walk was only around the alley that led to the back of the pizzeria, where the separate entrance to her apartment was.
Maybe it was the way her mind still hummed with all the details of their pizza-fueled charade or the image of her mother meeting Alec for the first time, but suddenly, the thought of squaring off with her Aunt Gail’s blue-blooded male birthday offering—freaking ew—didn’t seem so scary. Not like it had been in the past, at any rate.
Yay for progress.
There was one thing, however, that she couldn’t quite seem to get out of her mind. The little niggling feeling had sprouted at the beginning of their James Bond joke session and hadn’t wanted to shake itself loose, even as they laughed over who was the best Bond—Daniel Craig, obviously—and why shaken martinis were for people who liked the idea of martinis but not the drinks themselves.
As they rounded the corner from the alley to the street where her front door was, Alec dropped back a bit before shifting his position to her right, the side closest to the street. She wouldn’t have even known he’d done it except for the whisper of his presence that slid behind her. Though it wasn’t too late in the evening, December’s darkness had already taken root around four thirty in the afternoon, so the headlights whizzing past and blinding her as she and Alec turned the corner were the surprise her nerves didn’t need.
Marisa squinted against the bright onslaught of the usual nighttime traffic in front of her apartment and put her palm out to shield the glare, but before she could even get her hand up high enough, the shadow of Alec’s shoulder blocked out the beams as he tucked his frame around her. With his hand on the small of her back and the lights of the milling traffic abating, he turned them both toward the juniper-colored door she’d stopped in front of, the only door of its kind on the block, which sat exposed among an outline of brick.
“Thanks,” she said, though for what she wasn’t entirely sure. Walking her the twenty feet to her front door? Keeping her pupils from getting fried?
Agreeing to stand in as her boyfriend so she could exploit his fame for her gain?
Or was it the happy little chill that curled up her spine when he touched her just then? That had felt pretty nice.
“Seems like quite the busy street,” he said.
“It can be. Though most of the stores close around dinnertime, so it’s usually not terrible this time of night. I’m grateful there are no bars or late-night restaurants here.” Marisa fumbled around in her bag for her keys and was mildly miffed when she located them so quickly.
She wished she could avoid saying what was on her mind for a little bit longer.
“Alec? Um, can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Whatever you’d like.”
Marisa let out a weighty breath and gripped her keys more tightly. Why did he have to be just so goddamn agreeable? Jeez, he was like one of those large, wiry-coated blue-gray Scottish deerhounds, all pleasant and eager with their big amber eyes always looking up as if asking what they could do to either help or make you happy.
Except there was nothing wiry about Alec, a point she’d been made increasingly aware of earlier when he excused himself to use the restroom and came back with his Henley pushed up to his elbows and his corded forearms on full display.
