Romance for Cynics (5 page)

FIVE

The next morning,
Lucy met with the last person on the planet she’d want to spend time with.

A stylist.

She liked the way she looked. She liked wearing comfortable, versatile clothes. She liked maintaining a no-fuss haircut, even if she did look as if she’d just got out of bed and headed to work most days.

But she liked the thought of saving Gram’s house more, and desperate times called for affirmative action: like updating her wardrobe, her hairstyle and her look.

Not that she was doing this to impress Cash. She’d taken pride in her appearance once, had loved the expensive fashions she’d worn during her marriage, had adored her artistic hairdresser, had spent an inordinate amount on make-up.

But no matter how prettied up she’d been, Adrian had cheated on her anyway and she’d shut away her inner fashion guru a long time ago.

However, being filmed as part of Cash’s fundraiser changed the playing field. And after his impassioned speech last night about not judging on appearances, she felt guilty.

Just because she didn’t go in for frippery any more didn’t mean he could neglect his public image, and she’d be doing him a disservice by rocking up to his fancy functions in ripped denim and pilled cotton.

He’d been nothing but lovely last night and her subtle antagonism seemed to make him laugh all the harder.

She had no intention of falling for his charm, which he was obviously used to laying on thick with the girls, but somewhere between the potato bondas and the Madras chicken curry she’d grown to respect him a tad.

And she was starting to regret having done the one thing he said he didn’t do: judge on appearances.

Because she had. Judged him. By the house he lived in, by the clothes he wore, by the company he kept.

Despite her preconceptions, the Cash she’d enjoyed a delicious Indian meal with in that tatty diner? Unpretentious, easy-going and able to laugh at himself.

She’d made a snap decision on leaving the restaurant: if she had to spend a week in his company, the least she could do was lighten up.

Not every guy was the enemy and, sadly, the years of self-imposed singledom had turned her into a cynic.

So that was why she was here, in one of Melbourne’s iconic department stores, consulting with an elegant woman who had nothing on her mind but making Lucy spend as much money as humanly possible.

‘You have a good eye for fashion.’ The fifty-something woman with a blonde coif, wearing a tight black shift and towering stiletto pumps, stood back and appraised her with blatant shock. ‘Every piece you’ve chosen looks like it has been made for you.’

‘I like clothes,’ Lucy said, her simple statement earning a beaming smile from FashionZilla.

‘I’ll be right back with the perfect sandals to go with that sheath.’ The consultant bustled away, leaving Lucy standing in a small room that looked like something out of
Arabian Nights
.

She spun around, feeling like Carrie in
Sex and the City
, glamorous and chic, the simple strapless red sheath reflected back to her tenfold in the surrounding floor-length mirrors.

Her hands skimmed the shot silk, savouring the slide of expensive fabric. Out of all the outfits she’d tried on, this had made her heart flutter the most.

She remembered this heady feeling: of choosing the perfect outfit, confident she looked good in it. All the clothes she’d worn back then had been about her: making her feel good. Sure, she’d appreciated Adrian’s compliments, but after a frugal upbringing it had been like a kid let loose in a candy shop and she’d revelled in it.

Which was the exact reason why she’d left it all behind.

She hadn’t wanted to be reminded of her foolishness. Had she been so wrapped up in the frivolity of her indulgent lifestyle that she’d been oblivious to her husband’s indiscretions? Or worse, had she used her privileged life as a deliberate distraction from the warning signs?

She hadn’t thought so at the time, or during the many months after she’d dissected the disastrous fallout, but on the odd occasion when she allowed her mind to drift she wondered if she’d been blinded to the truth by the glitz she’d grown to love.

The consultant hurried back into the room and thrust a pair of sparkly stilettos at her. ‘Here, try these.’

Lucy had a distinct Dorothy from
The Wizard of Oz
moment as she slipped on the sparkly crimson heels. If only she could click her heels and vanish back to the staid normality of her life before she’d discovered the truth about Pops, the threat to Gram’s house and the craziness of agreeing to pose as Cash’s girlfriend.

‘What do you think?’ The consultant fussed around her, smoothing non-existent creases and adjusting the zip. ‘You’ll make quite the impression in this outfit whatever the occasion.’

The occasion would be the Valentine’s Day ball and a most welcome conclusion to her week-long zaniness posing as Cash’s girlfriend.

Once her obligations were done, she could throw herself wholeheartedly into his landscaping job.

But as she stared at her startling image in the mirror, she had a thought. How would she interact with Cash after this week was done? Would they revert to their previous cool relationship or would the week of forced proximity and faked romance change things?

Ideally, she’d go back to ignoring his overtures and he’d go back to making millions. In reality, Lucy knew a week of spending time together, sparring and joking, would blur the boundaries.

‘Shall I start packaging your choices?’ The stylist picked up her clipboard and started ticking items off her list. ‘Just to clarify: you’re taking the jade waffle-knit jacket, the aubergine skirt suit, the black pencil skirt, the tribal print dress, the quilted puffer jacket, the floral flip skirt, and the formal sheath you’re wearing.’

This was the time for Lucy’s sanity to return. She should bolt from the store while she had the chance. Instead, she found herself reluctantly nodding. ‘Yes, thanks.’

The woman’s eyes glittered at what would be healthy commission. ‘And the shoes to complement the outfits? Black patent leather kitten heels, the knee-high boots and the crimson evening stilettos?’

‘Those too,’ Lucy said, her resigned sigh earning an odd look from the stylist.

‘You get changed while I start putting these purchases through.’ The stylist wiggled a card out from a stash on a nearby table. ‘And if you’re interested, our in-store hairstylist is offering seventy-five per cent off all services to customers who spend over five hundred dollars here.’

Considering Lucy had just spent double that on replenishing her wardrobe, she definitely qualified. Lucy thanked her, took the card and slipped back into the dressing room to change back into her jeans and ‘I HEART DIRT’ T-shirt.

She’d come this far in her lunacy. Why not go the whole hog and get her hair done too?

Feeling chirpier than she had in ages, she hummed the latest pop song under her breath as she changed, surprisingly eager to see Cash’s expression when she met him at the PR firm’s head office to launch the fundraiser later today.

* * *

Cash wished Lucy had agreed to him picking her up. He’d wanted to make a statement by the two of them walking into the plush offices of GR8 4U Public Relations together, showing the rest of the competition that they were a couple and loving it.

What a joke.

About the only thing Lucy loved was roasting him over hot coals.

He’d hoped she’d thaw towards him over dinner last night. And he’d been making inroads too. Until their conversation had drifted towards appearances and Lucy had frozen him out faster than a naked explorer in Antarctica.

Lucy had a confidence problem. Made sense she hid behind a tough exterior, flinging out barbs at random to hold him off.

Was it him or all guys? Had some guy done a number on her?

And that was when it hit him. He hadn’t even asked if she had a guy in her life. He’d assumed not, considering she’d agreed to his crazy scheme. But what if there was a boyfriend in the picture and that was why she didn’t like him? Because she needed to maintain distance between them?

Would certainly explain her frosty behaviour. Maybe she needed the money so badly she’d agreed to it, but had to explain it to her bloke who’d stipulated cool and hands-off?

Little wonder she’d freaked out over that kiss.

Damn, he’d played this all wrong.

However, considering he now stood in a glass-panelled conference room awaiting the arrival of his girlfriend to kick-start proceedings, it was too late to change tack now.

Barton accepted champagne from a passing waiter and sidled up to him. ‘Your girl going to show?’

‘’Course,’ Cash said, wishing he sounded more confident. ‘She’ll be here.’

Barton leaned closer. ‘So what did you offer her to partake in this charade?’

Cash knew he could trust Bart but this wasn’t the best place to be discussing his fake relationship. He lowered his voice. ‘She’s landscaping my garden for a hefty price.’

Respect gleamed in Bart’s eyes. ‘A savvy businesswoman. Good for her.’

‘Yeah, Lucy’s definitely full of surprises,’ he said, a second before he caught sight of a sexy brunette hovering in the doorway.

She wore a tailored linen suit the colour of ripe plums, the knee-length skirt halfway between demure and downright naughty, with a hint of black lacy camisole at her cleavage. Her bare legs shimmered bronze, highlighted by a pair of sky-high patent leather pumps.

When he tore his gaze away from those sensational legs, he noticed her hair, cut in a stylish shaggy bob, caramel highlights adding a sheen to the sleek brown waves.

That was when he finally looked at the woman’s eyes. And almost keeled over.

Large brown eyes the colour of his favourite coffee beans, ringed by subtle kohl, fringed in long lashes designed to flirt.

Eyes that had pinned him with unswerving censure last night.

Eyes that he’d let himself drown in given half a chance.

Lucy.

‘Yowza,’ Bart said, his glass paused halfway to his mouth. ‘Is that your girl?’

When Cash unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth a few moments later, he managed a mumbled, ‘Yeah,’ for his friend before making a beeline for the door.

The closer he got, he noticed something else about Lucy that shocked him.

She wasn’t looking at him with reservation or caution. Uh-uh. As he strode towards her she stared at him with defiance, as if daring him to say something about the new her and make a mess of this.

Not bloody likely.

For all he knew, this could be a test, to see if he liked her more in the new clothes and with a new haircut, considering he’d said the opposite last night.

So he did the only thing possible. The one thing guaranteed to keep from putting his foot in his mouth.

He kissed her.

SIX

The first thing
that registered with Cash was the peppermint-infused lip-gloss Lucy wore and how delicious she tasted.

The second? Muted applause and laughter.

Lucy gave him a little shove and he broke the kiss, dazed to find a roomful of people looking on. Some wore goofy grins, some—the competition, he assumed—sized him up, and some—guys mostly—looked jealous.

Another glance at Lucy and he couldn’t blame them. His kiss had made her blush, and her rosy cheeks added to the sparkle in her eyes.

She looked radiant. Luminous. Like a woman crazy about her man.

Wow, who knew she could act so well?

‘By that greeting, I assume you approve of my grand entrance?’ she said, low enough so only he could hear.

‘It’s normal for a guy to greet his girlfriend with a kiss. Get used to it.’

He hated how abrupt he sounded but she’d seriously thrown him with her perfect girlfriend act. It was what he wanted, what he needed to stave off disaster for his business, so why did this new Lucy disarm him so much?

Hurt flickered in her eyes and he silently cursed.

‘Sorry. Guess I’m nervous,’ he said, taking hold of her hand, not surprised when she stalled momentarily before falling into step beside him. ‘We’ve got a few minutes before the launch starts. Let’s go find a quiet place to chat.’

She nodded, her hand relaxing in his the closer they got to a secluded corner of the room, behind a semi-opaque glass screen.

They’d barely reached the corner when he blurted, ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

‘No.’ Her eyes widened, those mascaraed lashes adding to the vamp-versus-virgin thing she had going on. ‘Do you seriously think I would’ve agreed to your dumbass scheme if I did?’

Relief overcame his uncharacteristic nerves at her typical blunt response. ‘Maybe you both needed the money?’

‘And maybe you need a lobotomy.’ She stepped closer, so close he felt her breath brush his ear, so close he could smell her subtle perfume, an intoxicating blend of flowers and spice. ‘Yeah, I’m doing it for the money. Why I need it? None of your damn business. So quit acting like an idiot and start behaving like a solicitous boyfriend.’

Suitably chastised, and feeling like a bit of a heel for kissing her first and asking the boyfriend question later, he flashed her a smile he hoped would placate. ‘I thought I was, with that kiss.’

She blushed again, prompting him to wonder if she reddened during other activities involving kissing.

Her nose crinkled adorably. ‘That kiss was all show, just like you.’

There she went again, implying he was shallow. So he retaliated in kind. ‘Hey, I’m not the one strutting in here trying to make a big impression.’

The moment the words slipped out, he wished he could take them back. She crumpled a little. Nothing overt, but a slight slump to her shoulders, a dejected quirk to her glossed lips.

Bugger.

She snatched her hand out of his and he let her, feeling like the bastard he was. ‘Look, I’m sorry, that was way out of line.’

Her lips compressed, as if she didn’t want to say something she’d regret. Pity he hadn’t done the same thing a moment ago.

‘I know this is a weak excuse, but I’m not very good at handling surprises.’ He never had been. Since his mum abandoned him when he was four and his dad morphed into a cold, demanding man who saw nothing in him but reminders of the woman he’d rather forget, Cash had learnt to appreciate stability.

Surprises sucked.

He touched her arm, wishing he could convey how sorry he was for acting like an ass when all she’d done was try to be the model girlfriend he needed to make this stupid scheme work. ‘Guess you threw me, strutting in here like a sex goddess.’

Her startled gaze flew to his.

‘What? You don’t know that every guy in the room wants to take you on the boardroom table?’

This time, her mouth dropped open too.

He swore and stuck a finger between his tie and shirt collar, trying to loosen it so he could get some air to his lungs and ultimately his brain. ‘Damn it, what the hell’s wrong with me?’

‘Where do you want me to start?’ she said, the corners of her mouth easing into a semi-smile. ‘But for what it’s worth, I appreciate honesty.’

‘So you think it’s a good thing every guy in here wants to—’

‘You’re exaggerating,’ she said, her coy smile going some way to soothing the monumental stuff-up he’d made of the last few minutes.

For a guy who prided himself on knowing what to say and when with his clients, he’d really made a fool of himself.

‘What I was referring to when I said I appreciated honesty was you admitting that you don’t like surprises. They do seem to make you act a little nuts.’

‘A little?’ His sarcasm drew another smile. ‘Trust me, I’m not usually such a putz.’

‘So it’s not you, it’s me?’

She was teasing. A good thing, considering the disastrous faux pas he’d made in blurting his innermost thoughts.
He
hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wanted to take her on the boardroom table, but why the hell did he have to reveal it like that? In fact, what was he thinking revealing it at all?

‘It’s not how incredible you look, because you do. And it’s not the shock of seeing you dolled up, because you already know I think you’re beautiful without all the fancy outer trappings. It’s...’

Cash trailed off, unable to articulate the truth.

Because what made him go a bit crazy wasn’t any of that stuff he’d just said, but the fact when he’d caught sight of Lucy he’d forgotten the real reason they were here—to pretend they had a relationship for the sake of their respective businesses—and wanted her for real.

As far as curve balls went, it was huge. This charade had barely kicked off and he already wanted her in a way that went beyond their deal.

It confused the hell out of him. Cash didn’t get involved with women for a reason. He understood business. He understood the comfort and certainty of money. He understood how getting close to a woman could foster dependency and love, only to have the lot ripped away, leaving pain and devastation in its wake.

Every time he visited his dad, Ronnie, he saw the evidence firsthand. And it gutted him. His dad might not have been the easiest man to live with when he’d been younger, but he was the only parent Cash had ever known. To see a man cut down in his prime like that all because of a woman? No way would Cash ever open himself up for that kind of desolation.

‘You okay?’ Lucy was staring at him quizzically.

‘Not really.’ He glanced at her, those beautiful brown eyes, way too trusting and filled with concern, and shook his head. ‘But it’s my problem, not yours. Let’s just concentrate on getting through this week without either of us going loco, okay?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said, slipping her hand through his elbow when he offered it.

Now all Cash needed was for his head to get with the plan. A clear-cut, no-nonsense, business arrangement between two people who barely knew each other.

Something he’d need to remind himself constantly if Lucy rocked up to any more functions intent on
surprising
him.

* * *

Sex goddess
.

Those two little words echoed through Lucy’s head: relentless, taunting, flattering.

She’d wanted to make an impression on Cash, not send the poor guy bonkers. Because that was what had happened the moment she’d tottered in here, out of practice in high heels. He’d been acting like a crazy person. Complimentary one second, snappy the next.

Then he had to go and blurt that crap again, about liking her for who she was, sans fancy clothes, make-up and new haircut, and she was back to square one: liking him more than was good for her.

She could attribute his bamboozlement to excellent acting skills: a guy trying to woo her in the hope of making their interaction look more real for the cameras.

Except for one factor: he’d appeared seriously rattled when he’d admitted that he didn’t like surprises. In fact, he looked like a guy who’d had a few nasty shocks in his lifetime. And she was in trouble, because that hint of vulnerability beneath his suave exterior? Made him all the more appealing.

‘How are you holding up?’ he murmured in her ear, sending a shiver of illicit longing through her.

She could blame her physical reaction to Cash on the fact she hadn’t had a date in a while—like six months—but she knew better. Cash was the whole package: handsome, dry sense of humour and, she’d finally accepted, downright nice.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, wishing the organisers would wind up their explanatory spiel so she could get out of here.

She was looking forward to getting out of these clothes and finding solace in gardening. When Lucy was feeling unsettled, she liked nothing better than to vent her frustration by digging and hoeing and slashing. How unsettled she was feeling right now? She’d need to spend the rest of the day with her hands in the dirt.

Just thinking about it had her mentally listing her planting to-do list for early February: okra, kohlrabi, radish, parsnip, leeks, collards. She’d head home as soon as this shindig was over and go berserk in the veggie patch. Perfect way to work off the edginess.

‘You don’t look okay.’ He squeezed her hand, which he had to hold for appearances’ sake, apparently. ‘You look like a girl in need of a double-shot latte or a family-size block of chocolate.’

He paused, shot her a sideways glance she had no hope of interpreting. ‘I can provide both at my place if you need to unwind, debrief, whatever, after this.’

Lucy was tempted. Really tempted. The thought of getting to know her enigmatic
boyfriend
better appealed.

But after their bizarre exchange earlier and the tension-fraught last hour, listening to the organisers drone on about functions they’d have to attend, rules and regulations, and instructions to ham up the romance for the cameras, she was exhausted.

She needed to cut her losses and run, before her physically and mentally drained self did something silly: such as decide she wanted more than caffeine as comfort and hurl herself into Cash’s arms.

‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m heading home.’

‘Okay.’ His disappointment mirrored hers but she steeled her resolve. Shrugging off the feeling, she silently repeated to herself what seemed to be becoming her new mantra:

Must. Not. Fall. For. Fake. Boyfriend.

* * *

Lucy had almost reached her car when the sound of footsteps pounding the pavement behind her made her turn around.

Great, the one man she’d been all too eager to escape was running after her as if he had demons on his tail.

As if Cash hadn’t unnerved her enough over the last hour or two. She needed to make a quick getaway before she took him up on that offer of a mega block of chocolate. Because she knew she wasn’t far from doing something stupid, like succumbing to the temptation of a soft, leather couch and a cosy evening with a guy who made her pulse race.

‘Did I forget something?’ She congratulated herself on injecting the right amount of cool into her voice, when in fact his proximity made everything, from her knees to her resolve, wobble.

‘No, but I did.’ He skidded to a stop in front of her. ‘I wanted to give you this.’

He whipped a cellophane-wrapped, long-stemmed red rose from behind his back and held it out to her. ‘A token for your forgiveness?’

Confused, she accepted the rose and held it up to her nose, inhaling the sweet, rich fragrance. ‘Unless you stuffed up after I left, there’s nothing to forgive.’

‘Yeah, there is.’ He dragged a hand through his hair, while the other tugged at the knot of his tie. Interesting. Cash looked as edgy as she felt. ‘I made a mess of things today.’

She shook her head. ‘We cleared all that up—’

‘Let me finish.’ He held up his hand and took a step closer. So close she could see the fine stubble already dotting his jaw. ‘When I first saw you walk into that room, you blew me away. And I should’ve said so. I should’ve said you were the most beautiful woman in the room. That you looked sensational in that suit and your new haircut looks lovely and make-up merely accentuates your eyes and lips, which are gorgeous enough as it is.’

He puffed out a long breath. ‘But I didn’t say any of those things. I acted like a jerk because you threw me. And then you were exceptionally nice about the whole thing and...ah, hell, I’m doing it again. Rambling...’

Touched by the effect she seemed to have on this man, she patted his cheek with the rose. ‘Thanks.’

‘For being a jerk?’

‘For taking the time to come after me and apologise, even though you didn’t need to.’ She stood on tiptoe and quickly kissed his cheek. ‘I really appreciate the compliments.’

He must’ve caught something in her wistful tone, because he slid an arm around her waist and hauled her close.

‘Want to know why I made an ass of myself?’

Struggling to deal with his proximity and battling the urge to wrap her arms around his waist, she nodded. ‘You said you don’t like surprises?’

‘That too.’ He glanced away but didn’t release her. ‘When I first saw you, all I could think was how much I wanted you. For real.’

‘Oh.’

A pretty inadequate syllable, considering the riotous emotions cartwheeling through her.

‘I know we’re pretending for the next week, but want to hear something crazy?’

‘I think you’re going to tell me regardless,’ she said, her dry response drawing a huge grin.

‘Okay, here goes,’ he said, resting his other hand on her hip, an intimate gesture that almost had her swooning against him. ‘Don’t be surprised if some time over the next week, I blur the lines between fantasy and reality.’

Lucy could’ve attributed all this to more of Cash’s signature schmoozing. A guy used to attracting women. A guy seeing her as a challenge. A guy assuming their proximity over the next week would naturally lead to intimacy.

Except for one thing.

The genuine sincerity in his eyes and the complete lack of guile.

Cash wasn’t doing a number on her.

He was being upfront and telling her exactly how he felt. Considering his confusion matched hers, she should be thankful for his honesty.