Romance for Cynics. Nicola Marsh

girl a break?’

      ‘I will if you do that more often.’ He leaned forward and traced her mouth, his fingertip doing crazy things to her insides.

      Considering they had to fake it for the next week, her reaction to the charmer? Not good.

      She leaned back, out of touching reach. ‘Trust me, I’ll be all smiles if I’m your girlfriend for the week.’

      His eyebrows shot up so fast she laughed.

      ‘Yeah, I changed my mind.’ She held up a finger. ‘With one stipulation. Your garden quote increases to fifty grand.’

      His eyes narrowed in speculation. ‘For that price I could hire every PR firm on the eastern seaboard to make me look good.’

      ‘Yeah, but you wouldn’t have an amazing garden at the end of it or have me on your arm playing the devoted girlfriend doing whatever I’m supposed to be doing.’

      She made it sound like an offer too good to refuse when in fact she’d be getting a lot more out of this bizarre arrangement than him.

      Payment for the garden refurbishment would clear Gram’s debt and keep her cottage safe, while the huge boost to her profile in the landscaping business would ensure other wealthy clients would hire her. And that in turn would enable her to set up a healthy nest egg so Gram could see out her days in peace.

      Gram deserved that safety net, after raising her.

      He continued to study her, coolly assessing. ‘What made you change your mind?’

      ‘Would you believe a woman’s prerogative?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I need the money.’ A half-truth that would have to suffice. She didn’t know Cash Burgess—had no intention of getting to know him. Theirs was a mutually beneficial business arrangement. End of story.

      The fact she was a teensy-weensy bit attracted to him? Irrelevant. Besides, she had little doubt that spending a week in his obnoxiously superior company would cure her of that.

      After what felt like an eternity, where he seemed to study every freckle on her nose, he nodded. ‘You pose as my girlfriend for a week. Attend a few PR functions. Boost my profile. No romantic entanglement whatsoever. And I’ll pay you fifty grand to remodel my garden. Deal?’

      He held out his hand and she shook it. ‘Deal.’

      But rather than let go of her hand, Cash held it firmly, tugged hard, and pulled her half across the table to meet his lips.

      This was so not part of the plan.

      * * *

      Damn. Cash had wanted to rattle Lucy’s customary cool exterior. Had wanted to see if he could get a reaction out of her other than a smart-ass comeback.

      The impulsive kiss had been about making a dent in her impenetrable armour.

      It hadn’t been about making him want more, to the point where he could easily have devoured her.

      He’d expected a rough shove away and a resounding slap. He hadn’t expected her lips to soften, to mould, to cling.

      And then she made a sound, a soft, seductive sigh that shot straight to his groin.

      He wrenched his mouth from hers and stared in fascination at the woman who would be his girlfriend for a week.

      Looked like faking it for the cameras with Lucy wouldn’t be such a hardship after all.

      ‘What was that all about?’ She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, as if she couldn’t stand the thought of boy cooties.

      ‘Seeing if we’d be compatible.’

      She didn’t like his smug, trite answer, her big brown eyes sparking caramel fire. ‘Don’t you dare do that again—’

      ‘Can’t promise that, considering we’ll be hamming up the romance in front of the cameras.’

      ‘Cameras?’

      His grin widened. ‘The firm who’s doing me a favour, GR8 4U Public Relations, are filming the couples involved, posting snippets on the firm’s website for voting, and the most voted couple raises the most funds for charity.’

      ‘We’re being filmed?’ Horror darkened her eyes as she waved her hand between them. ‘So you and I will need to...I mean, we’ll have to act all lovey-dovey...bloody hell.’

      He laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not expecting to win the thing. Just being in the competition is going to provide all the positive publicity I need to stave off any damage that woman can possibly inflict.’

      She cocked her head to one side, studying him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

      ‘Anything for my girlfriend.’

      With an exasperated sigh, she ignored his wink. ‘What if people don’t buy our charade? Will you screw me over?’

      After that surprisingly sizzling kiss, Cash wished Lucy wouldn’t allude to him screwing her over anything.

      He shook his head. ‘Whatever the result of the Valentine’s Day competition, you’ll get your chance to tackle this garden and get your money.’

      Her nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled something nasty. ‘Valentine’s Day?’

      He could understand her dislike for the ridiculous day that made flower vendors a lot of money and idiots out of any self-respecting guy. ‘We attend a week of romantic functions in the lead-up to Valentine’s Day, where the winner is announced at a formal ball.’

      ‘This just gets better and better,’ she muttered, frown lines appearing between her brows. ‘Valentine’s Day blows.’

      Damn. Cash would have to add blow alongside screwed as words Lucy should never utter around him.

      ‘Couldn’t agree more. Valentine’s Day is overcommercialised crap for schmucks, but it’s what we’ll sign up for.’

      ‘Just shoot me now,’ she said, looking so woeful he couldn’t help but smile.

      ‘Don’t all women dream of hearts and flowers and verbose declarations of love skywritten in fireworks until death us do part?’

      She stiffened and squared her shoulders. ‘Not this one.’

      ‘Go on, admit it. You want a happily ever after as much as the next girl.’ She had such an untouchable quality, he couldn’t resist teasing her.

      But he wasn’t expecting to see genuine hurt in her expressive eyes. Hurt he didn’t want to be responsible for.

      ‘Hey, I was kidding...’ He reached out to touch her hand and she snatched it away.

      ‘Forget it.’ She stood so abruptly the chair scraped loudly against the patio tiles. ‘I’ll start drawing up plans for the garden and get an itemised quote to you by the weekend.’

      ‘Sure.’ He should be rapt she’d agreed to his outlandish suggestion to pose as his girlfriend. So why the guilty niggle that he’d pushed her into doing something she’d rather not? ‘We’ll need to meet to go over our dating story, to strategise, stuff like that. How about dinner tomorrow?’

      He deliberately chose a date-like rendezvous, to see if she lightened up enough to pull off this charade. Because the last thing he needed was for people to realise they weren’t really a couple and he was doing this for the PR.

      ‘Dinner?’ She made it sound as if he’d invited her to leap into the Yarra River naked on a frigid winter’s day.

      ‘That’s what couples do,’ he said, his emphasis not lost when acceptance downturned her mouth.

      ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ She visibly brightened. ‘But I get to choose the place.’

      Was it a power thing?