Romance for Cynics. Nicola Marsh

his arm. She half expected to see the entire female cast of Melbourne’s top-rating soap opera stroll out of his house the mornings she worked here, but surprisingly she’d never seen a woman do the walk of shame out of his enviable mansion. Perhaps he spirited them away out the back.

      No, she didn’t trust guys who behaved one way in public and another in private. Which was why she preferred ignoring him when they crossed paths every two weeks.

      She knew her aloofness was why he deliberately went out of his way to seek her out. He saw her coolness as a challenge. She didn’t let it bother her. If anything, she notched her haughtiness up further. No way in hell would she ever let down her guard, because then she might have to face reality: that a small part of her was super attracted to the whole casually mussed brown hair, piercing blue eyes, chiselled jaw, dimpled smile thing he had going on.

      Unfathomable. And wrong on so many levels, considering she’d vowed to never go for a suit again.

      Must be her dating drought making her secretly lust after her boss. Maybe she should say yes the next time the guy at the hardware shop asked her out?

      Cash’s visitor slid into a Porsche and backed out of the drive with a jaunty wave in her direction. She managed a terse nod in response and gripped the pruning shears, ready to resume work.

      However, rather than heading back into the house, Cash started down the path towards her.

      Crap.

      They’d already done their usual him-flirt-her-avoid dance this morning so what did he want now? An encore?

      She opened the shears then snapped them shut with a loud metallic clink that carried clear across the garden and she could’ve sworn she saw Cash falter, wince or both. Probably wishful thinking but she did it again for good measure.

      ‘Is that a warning?’ he said, eyeing the shears with a mix of wariness and amusement.

      The corners of her mouth twitched against her better judgement. ‘No, but it could be if you keep hassling me while I’m trying to work.’

      He smiled and the impact of those lips curving hit her somewhere in the vicinity of her solar plexus. ‘Why don’t you put the DIY castrating tool down so we can talk?’

      This time, she couldn’t stop the laughter spilling from her lips. ‘About?’

      ‘Wow.’ He clutched his heart and staggered a little. ‘You’re gorgeous when you smile.’

      ‘And you’re full of it.’ She waved the shears in his direction. ‘What do you want?’

      He flinched. ‘Not that.’

      Damn, she loved sparring with a quick-witted guy. And if she were completely honest with herself, she missed it. Missed the fun of swapping banter with a guy who could fire back.

      ‘I’m busy—’

      ‘I really need to talk to you.’ His sincerity scared her as much as his overt flirting. ‘Would you like to come inside for a drink?’

      ‘No thanks.’ She shook her head. Bad enough bumping into him outside. No way would she set foot inside his place and risk pining for what she’d once had.

      She’d put her past behind her a long time ago but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit there were times when she missed the luxury, the wealth, the glamour. ‘What’s up? Is it my work—?’

      ‘No, nothing like that.’ He huffed out a breath and for the first time since she’d started working for the tycoon six months ago via referral, he appeared uncertain and unsure. And damn, if that hint of vulnerability didn’t make him all the more appealing.

      ‘I have a problem I need your help with.’ A frown appeared between his brows. ‘Actually, it’s more than a problem. More like an impending catastrophe.’

      Her curiosity was piqued. ‘Unless it has something to do with your jasmine wilting or your compost needing mulching, not sure what I can do to help.’

      His frown eased as his mouth lost its pinched quirk. ‘This isn’t a gardening matter.’

      ‘Then I’m not sure what I can do—’

      ‘I need a fake girlfriend for a week and you’d be perfect.’

      TWO

      The shears slipped from Lucy’s hand and clattered to the path, thankfully missing her steel-capped boots, which had cost a small fortune.

      She stared at Cash in disbelief. ‘You’re crazy—’

      ‘Just hear me out, okay?’ He held up his hands. Yeah, as if that would stop her from knocking some sense into him. Figured. The smart, gorgeous, funny ones were always certified lunatics.

      ‘My business is in danger of losing some major clients and I need a mega-positive PR injection.’ He pressed his temple, as if staving off a headache. She knew the feeling. ‘GR8 4U Public Relations is the best in Melbourne and they’re running a week-long fundraiser, which would be perfect for my business’s needs, but the catch is I need to be part of a couple.’ He nodded at her. ‘And that’s where you come in.’

      She laughed, great hysterical peals she couldn’t stop once she started.

      ‘It’s not that funny,’ he said, eyeing her with a beguiling blend of wounded pride and little-boy-lost.

      ‘It’s freaking hilarious.’ She clutched her sides and huddled over a little, drawing in deep breaths to stop the giggles. ‘You’ve probably got a host of bimbos on speed dial and you think I should be your fake girlfriend?’

      The chuckles started again and she would’ve had a hard time stopping them if Cash hadn’t placed a finger against her lips to quiet her.

      As a silencing technique, it worked a treat. Because the moment he touched her, laughter was the furthest thing from her mind, considering she had to muster indignation or annoyance or something to stop from doing what she’d like to: kiss that finger.

      She swatted his hand away and he continued. ‘All the women I know would be unsuitable. They want a commitment or a wedding ring. That’s why you’d be perfect.’

      As she opened her mouth to argue he said, ‘You don’t like me.’

      ‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Believe me, if I had other options I’d take them but my business is everything to me and I can’t afford to lose it.’

      ‘With a place like this, surely you’ve got a few million or ten stashed away for a rainy day?’ She gestured at the house, a two-storey French Provincial style mansion sprawled across a double block on Williamstown’s foreshore, where real estate prices were sky-high. ‘Why don’t you dip into that?’

      His lips compressed into a thin, angry line. ‘I need the positive PR more than the money.’

      If this wasn’t about his business losing clients and money, there must be one hell of a good reason why he’d approached her, a woman he barely knew, to pose as his girlfriend for a week.

      ‘Why?’ She pinned him with the usual glare she reserved for their brief meetings. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

      His gaze shifted to stare over her shoulder, focused on the intense blue of Port Phillip Bay on a perfect summer’s day. ‘I work with famous people whose egos are as big as the pay cheques they want me to invest for them. My reputation is everything. And if that’s tarnished in any way...’

      She raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. He shook his head and his pained expression almost made her feel sorry for him. Almost. ‘One of Melbourne’s hottest actresses didn’t take too kindly to my refusing her offer of...uh, side benefits to our business arrangement.’

      The unexpected jab of jealousy took her by surprise,