Page 43 of Tuxedos and Tinsel
Her shoulders slumped. She looked like she felt. Tired, and hungover. The jacket was too boxy for her short frame, making her look like a squashed blueberry. People probably thought she was Lewis’s agent or business manager. Certainly not a potential girlfriend. Correction, fake girlfriend.
What made Lewis think the idea would work? No way, people wouldn’t believe they were an item.
Behind her, the door opened and two university-age girls slipped in. Susan immediately envied their long hair which they wore in messy topknots. Envied their cropped sweaters and leggings too. No one would mistake them for a sports agent.
All her life, she had wondered what it would be like tofit. To feel accepted by someone. Anyone. She had a lot to offer, if people would only look.
Don’t be so dramatic, her mother would say.People don’t look if there’s nothing to look at.
Belinda was full of those little bon mots.
Lewis Matolo was offering people something to look at.
Would it be so horrible if the world saw her as someone different? Just for a little while?
Rummaging through her bag, she located a hair tie and forced her curls into a messy bun. Then, she shed her jacket. The black turtleneck wasn’t stylish, but at least the world could see she had a waist.
The world.Susan chewed her lower lip. Was she really that crazy?
Lewis was biting into his egg sandwich when she returned. She tossed her bag on the bench and slid in next to him. “You’ve got a deal.”
CHAPTER THREE
“AREYOUSURE?”
“Positive,” Susan replied. “You don’t have to keep asking.”
But Lewis felt like he did. They were on their second cup of tea. An entire meal had gone by and he was having trouble processing the fact that she’d agreed to play his girlfriend. “I’m surprised, is all,” he said. Flummoxed was a better word. “You didn’t look very enthusiastic when I pitched the idea.” Which was why, when she’d come back from the washroom and announced she was all in, he’d been floored.
“I’ll admit, the plan sounds insane, but it’s only for a short time, right? Not like you’re proposing marriage or anything.”
“Dating only, I promise.” Marriage was one of those concepts that made his insides squeeze, along with commitment and emotions. As it was, this arrangement would be the longest relationship he’d ever had. Then again, so would anything longer than a three-day weekend.
Her smile seemed to tighten for a second. “Right,” she said, setting her teacup down. “How does this work? Do we draw up contracts? Write out conditions? What does one do in a fake relationship?”
Fortunately, Lewis had given the matter some thought on the off chance she’d agree. “Obviously, the goal is to be seen together in as many different settings as possible. Like a real couple.”
“And we do this until the tabloids notice?” she asked while pouring the last of her tea. “I know you’re considered a tabloid magnet, but that doesn’t seem terribly efficient.”
“You’re right, it’s not. That’s why I’m going to have my agent leak a few discreet comments. We’re also going to have to attend one or two social events where there’s press. Actually, I’ve drawn up a few notes laying out how I think this plan should proceed.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Moving his teacup aside, he smoothed it flat. “We want everyone to see us, but at the same time we want to look subtle—like this is the real deal—so I’ve come up with a progression of steps.”
Susan’s arm pressed against his as she leaned in to get a better view. “Date at a public venue. Attend a society event. Be seen doing coupley Christmas things?” She turned to look at him. “Coupley Christmas things?”
“You know, Christmas shopping or walking in Kew Gardens. Whatever it is women drag their boyfriends to do during the holidays.”
“I see. Clearly, you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Did you think I would invite you to lunch without some kind of plan in mind?” Lewis replied. He wasn’t stupid. If Susan had said yes, he knew a woman like her would expect details. “You’re going to have to start giving me a little more credit.”
Then again, could he blame her? The whole point behind this charade was to prove he had more to offer than being a drunken party boy.
“Considering I didn’t know fake girlfriends really existed until ninety minutes ago, you’ll have to cut me some slack. I do have one question,” she said, tapping her cup. “How can we be sure people—the tabloids—will believe us?”
It was a reasonable question. The honest answer was they couldn’t. Not entirely. “I get the impression that as long as the story gets attention, they—the papers—won’t dig too deep,” he told her. “However, you bring up a point I hadn’t thought about. Lorianne has spies everywhere—it’s how she gets her scoops—so we’ll need to make sure we act like a couple whenever we’re together, even when we think no one’s paying attention.”
“Is that why we’re having lunch in a cozy corner booth? Again, I’m impressed.”
