Chapter Ten
Avery
I love cuddling with Hugh Parrish. In fact, I loved it so much that I didn't want to stop, but I knew I had to give up the warmth and comfort of plastering myself to his body. It wasn't a sexual thing, not at all. But I enjoyed that cuddle more than I've enjoyed anything in a long time, which seems crazy. But liking Hugh is not a crime. Maybe my ethics have been stretched lately, thanks to Lord Steamy and my strangely powerful need to help him, not only to save his public image and his company, but to make him feel better.
Yeah, I'm in trouble. And I don't care.
Hugh and I discuss a number of strategies for wooing Mr. Jenkins, but I'm no expert on that side of business. My forte is image consulting—basically PR on steroids. But I think Hugh mostly needs someone on his side who will listen and let him bounce ideas off them. I've become a sounding board, and I don't mind at all. I always do whatever I can to help my clients. With Hugh Parrish, I've gone further. I'm dating him. Regardless of whether we call it fake or not, we went on a real date. Lines are getting blurred, and I should worry about that, but I don't want to worry about anything.
Hugh tells jokes to lighten the mood during our serious conversation about his business, though he doesn't do it to avoid the important stuff. He needs to lighten the mood now and then, and I can't deny he makes me laugh more than anyone else in the world could.
No, I won't fall for him. That would be nuts. I met the man yesterday.
We spend the better part of the day spitballing ideas. Hugh tries calling Jenkins's office again. After that, he needs to attend a board meeting, so I go back to my hotel to brainstorm even more ideas for Hugh. Maybe I shouldn't be this invested in my client's life. But I care what happens to him, not just his company, and I'm done trying to hide that fact. I care about every client, but Lord Sommerleigh is… I don't know. Special, I suppose. But I refuse to waste brainpower on figuring out why. Once I've gotten Hugh over the worst of his problems, then maybe I'll think about why I agreed to fake date him.
For the sake of my sanity and my professional ethics, I insist we meet only at his office, not my hotel suite or his apartment. Our dates are the exception, but I do ask him to drop me off at the door to my hotel rather than the door to my suite.
"But we're meant to be dating," he says when I share my decision with him the next day. "A proper viscount walks his date to her door."
"Please, Lord Sommerleigh, let's keep it professional." Yes, I've reasserted my dictate that I will refer to him only as Lord Sommerleigh, except on our dates.
"Are you afraid you'll lose control and beg me to shag you?" He crosses his heart with two fingers. "I swear on my father's grave that I shall not attempt to seduce you when I walk you to your door."
"No, Lord Sommerleigh. Drop me off at the hotel entrance."
"I love it when you order me to do things. Though in this case, I'm not entirely pleased with your pronouncement." He sighs with melodramatic disappointment. "But I shall heed your command."
Over the next week, we spend most of our time ensconced in his office hashing out ideas. Hugh tries repeatedly to get through to Phillip Jenkins, but the man refuses to see or speak to him. Jenkins's executive assistant loves Hugh and the decadent candies he sent her, but even that connection isn't enough to get him an audience with Jenkins himself.
What has he been told about Hugh? Jenkins might be good friends with the Duke of Wackenbourne, or maybe the reason has nothing to do with Hugh. I don't know, and we will never find out the answer if we can't get in to see the man.
Yeah, I'm now thinking about me and Hugh as one unit, as…a couple. The realization sends a tingle rushing over my skin, but I can't decide if I'm excited or terrified by the prospect. We're a pretend couple. But sometimes it doesn't feel fake.
We go on two more dates during the week and over the weekend. But on Monday morning, we get news we've been hoping to hear.
Phillip Jenkins has agreed to meet with us.
"Will you come with me to Jenkins's office?" Hugh asks. "I know it's not in your job description. But now that you've helped me figure out a plan, I feel, ah…"
"Anxious? It's okay, you can say that out loud. I won't make fun of you. Feeling nervous is understandable, considering what's at stake." Though he's hiding it well, I notice little signs that tell me he's more anxious than he wants me to know. So I walk around his desk to sit on his lap with my arms around his neck. "Yes, I'll go with you for moral support."
"Thank you. Not sure I could do this alone."
"Of course you could. But I'm happy to hold your hand during the meeting, literally or figuratively. Whatever you need."
He lifts his brows. "Whatever I need? That's a dangerous thing to say to the man who's accused of seducing every married woman in the country."
"You aren't like that." I kiss his cheek. "And everyone will have forgotten about that nonsense by the time I'm done polishing up your image. You already got a positive mention in a newspaper."
"Yes, it said 'Lord Sommerleigh appears to be behaving like a gentleman these days.' It was in the style section, and the journalist spent four paragraphs describing my clothing."
"It's a start. Be grateful for that."
"Of course I'm grateful. Praise for my suit is much better than snide comments about my sex life."
"Even a small win is still a victory."
Our meeting with Jenkins won't happen for three days. That leaves Hugh with plenty of time to get anxious. In the days leading up to the meeting, he gets progressively and visibly more nervous. He even stops cracking jokes. He doesn't try to seduce me, either. He behaves like a true gentleman, which I would love if I didn't know he acts that way mostly because he's worried about the meeting.