“If you have work to do, I should leave. I have a packed afternoon and evening,” I commented, distracted.
Her gaze flitted back to me. “You’re not coming tonight? You don’t have to, of course, but I—”
“I pushed back a meeting to be able to come here now, so I’m going to have to stay late to catch up with my calls after that ends. I’ll send Raymond. You think you’ll be able to make it back to the apartment in one piece?”
“Oh, that’s funny, Mr. Hawthorne. I—”
“Rose!” Sally called out, catching her attention.
Instead of going behind the counter to work next to Sally, Rose stayed next to the customers, chatting with them and pointing at the food under the glass domes. I waited for a few minutes, feeling impatient; waiting wasn’t my strong suit. Eventually, after a long discussion and several changed decisions, everyone had given their orders. I ate another of the lemon bars Rose had baked herself and rose from my seat. Reaching for my wallet in my back pocket, I took out some cash. She didn’t notice me until I was standing right next to her.
“Oh, Jack, I’ll be right—”
Everyone’s eyes were on us, especially Sally’s, so I tried to be careful. “I need to leave.” I held out a hundred-dollar bill to Sally and instead of being a good employee and taking it from me before Rose could see, her gaze jumped from me to Rose.
“Ummm…Rose,” she mumbled, causing Rose to take her eyes from me and glance at her and then at the money I was holding.
“What’s that for?” Rose asked, fully facing me.
I sighed and, after giving Sally a cold look, met Rose’s eyes.
“Let’s not do this again. Take it,” I ordered, holding it out to her.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Jack Hawthorne,” she said slowly, and my lips twitched involuntarily. I could imagine she fully meant what she said. I had no doubt she could hurt me.
“I need to leave,” I repeated. Then, thinking it would simply be a good distraction, a good show for her employee and even sort of a practice for the charity event we’d be attending, I slid my arm around her waist. Her eyes were slightly widened in alarm, her entire body stiff, but at least she wasn’t jumpy like she had been at our first outing. Slowly her body relaxed, and she arched her back so she could look up at me with those big eyes.
A simple and meaningless touch would have to be acted out more naturally at one point in our fake marriage, almost as if touching her or kissing her in front of other people would become second nature. Practice was good.
“Thank you for the coffee. It’s always the best,” I murmured, having trouble looking away. Then I leaned down and hesitated for a heartbeat before I pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead as she was still looking up at me in confusion. That spot felt like it was the most harmless one and I took my time, breathing in her sweet and fresh scent. When I pulled back, one of her hands was resting against my chest, the other one clutching my arm. Her chest rising and falling, she blinked up at me.
Taking her hand that had ended up on my chest, I opened her fingers, my fingertip catching on her wedding ring. Why did such a simple and, in our situation, meaningless thing give me so much pleasure to see? She wasn’t mine, but the idea of it…the possibility… I placed the money on her still red palm before gently closing her fingers around the bill. Surprisingly, she didn’t say a word, just kept staring up at me as if she was lost. Was she just as affected as I was by our pretending?
“Don’t take it off, okay? I like seeing it on your finger,” I whispered.
I had already forgotten about the people around us. This wasn’t so much for them but more for me, I thought, just so I could see that soft look on her face. I cupped her cheek and leaned down enough so I could whisper in her ear. “Was that the right amount of PDA for our fake marriage? A small intimate kiss, you said, right? Arm around the waist? Bodies close, but not touching?” I lifted my head up enough so I could meet her eyes and, in a louder voice, said, “Don’t stay on your feet for too long—you’re still limping.”
She didn’t look like she was going to say anything, so I pushed a little more.
“Can you at least say goodbye to your husband?”
“Uh…I should, shouldn’t I? Goodbye?”
After wishing a good day to everyone who didn’t have the decency to mind their own business, I left.
Yes, practice was good.
Chapter Eleven
Jack
Almost an hour later, I was back in my office, eating lunch and answering emails when my phone vibrated on the desk with a new text message.