Romance for Cynics. Nicola Marsh

holding her hand and staring at her with blatant interest, she could almost believe him.

      ‘And something tells me if we don’t get our stories straight your reputation isn’t the only one about to flush down the toilet.’ She withdrew her hand. It did little for the residual tingle in her palm. ‘So what’s the spin we put on our faux romance?’

      ‘We stick to the truth as much as possible,’ he said, looking way too comfortable for a guy about to perpetuate a big, fat lie, while she all but squirmed at the thought of being filmed for some hokey Valentine’s Day fundraiser. ‘We met six months ago through a mutual friend but haven’t started dating ’til recently.’

      ‘And the fact you’ve kept me hidden away while parading around town with your usual arm candy?’

      ‘You sound jealous.’ He smirked.

      ‘I’d have to care first,’ she said, shooting him a sickly sweet smile.

      ‘I’m a man who likes to keep his personal and professional lives separate, so that’s why we haven’t gone public yet. Those other women? Business.’

      ‘More like monkey business,’ she muttered, earning another wink for her trouble. ‘Tell me more about these functions we have to attend.’

      ‘We’re being briefed tomorrow apparently. All I know is we attend a picnic, an eighties-inspired disco and a roller-skating event, before the ball on Valentine’s Day.’

      Lucy pretended to stick two fingers down her throat and gag.

      He grimaced. ‘Yeah, sounds like a pain in the ass.’

      ‘The things we do for love, huh?’ She batted her eyelashes and he laughed, the lines crinkling the corners of his eyes adding depth to his face.

      ‘Want to know what I think?’ He leaned forward.

      ‘Do I have a choice?’

      ‘Keep doing that.’ He jabbed a finger in her direction. ‘If we can keep doing this trading quips thing when the cameras are around, they’ll think we’re a real couple for sure.’

      ‘True,’ she said, remembering the many times Gram and Pops would bicker over the smallest thing. Other couples she’d seen over the years too. That should’ve been her first indication something was wrong with her marriage: the fact that Adrian was far too civilised and they never fought. No relationship was that perfect. She knew that now.

      ‘Did I pass?’

      She blinked away memories better left suppressed. ‘What?’

      ‘Did I pass your test, the one you set by inviting me to dinner here?’

      ‘Test?’ she asked, looking as incredulous as possible.

      ‘Come on, Lucy. I knew from the minute you invited me here that you had something up your sleeve. You couldn’t wait to get me out of my comfort zone.’

      She nodded begrudgingly. ‘I like a guy who can adjust to his surroundings. Especially a stuck-up, wealthy guy, who I assumed wouldn’t know dahl from a dollar.’

      ‘Careful. I could’ve sworn you said you like me.’ He ignored her veiled insults and focused on the one thing she wished he wouldn’t. ‘Which is kinda nice, considering I really like you.’

      He was teasing, she knew that, but the small part of her that had been starved of male attention for too long lapped it up.

      ‘Good to see you practising for the cameras,’ she said, hoping to defuse some of the tension gripping her by gulping her mango lassi.

      Sadly, the cool fruity yoghurt did little for the heat racing through her body and making her yearn for things she shouldn’t. Like Cash. Naked.

      ‘Why do you do that?’ His hand snaked across the table to touch her wrist. ‘Pretend like there’s no way in hell I could find you remotely attractive.’

      ‘Because I know your type and I’m not it.’ She barked out a bitter laugh and gestured at her faded skinny jeans and thigh-length red cotton T. ‘Look at me. I wear khaki work shorts and singlets or denim and cotton.’ She pointed to her face. ‘No make-up.’ She tugged on the ends of her cropped hair. ‘Without a foil or highlight in sight.’

      His expression morphed from playful to sincere. ‘Did you stop to think that maybe that’s why I like you? That I don’t go for all that artifice when it matters? That appearances can be deceptive and I prefer to judge a person on what’s inside?’

      She could’ve applauded his valiant speech if not for one thing: if what she’d researched was true, he’d spent his entire life proving the opposite of everything he’d just said.

      ‘Let’s stick to the programme, okay?’ She signalled for the bill. ‘We both know this thing between us is fake. No need to label it as anything else.’

      Cash frowned, and looked set to belabour the point, but thankfully the waiter’s speedy arrival took care of that.

      Good. The last thing Lucy needed was Cash trying to convince her that he was deeper than her perception. A perception fast being challenged by this surprisingly sweet, sexy man.