Rogue Beast (The Rourkes #12) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,16
did you like best? When I accosted you, or the part where I pretended we were dating without consulting you?” Seriously, what guy wants that?
He laughs.
I grip the phone tighter. “Didn’t you hear what a horrible date I’ll be? I’m going to be stressed the whole night about my speech, which will be boring. When I can speak, that is, after coughing and choking on my own spit.”
“You’re funny.”
I sit straighter. “I’m dead serious.”
“Alright. But you know what I got out of this conversation? I heard a woman who’s brave enough to face her fear of public speaking for a greater good. That’s the kind of person I’d like to spend time with. And it’s a good cause, like you said.”
My heart thumps harder. “It’s black tie.” Last chance to bail! I can take it. Really.
I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll rent a tux.”
A surge of warmth goes through me. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. I’ll have my driver pick you up. And let me know if I can return the favor in some way.”
“Next time I have a black-tie event, where I need to make a boring speech, you’re the first number I’ll call.”
I laugh. “Okay.”
A loud buzz saw goes off in the background on his end.
“I should get back to work,” he says. “But I wanted to ask you a question. Hold on.”
I tense again, not sure I want to answer any personal questions. It gets quiet in the background, and I wonder if he walked outside to continue our conversation.
“Does Sean still work with you there?” I ask. I’m curious because I see him on set a lot.
“Sometimes. He spends more time on the philanthropic side now, working remotely so he can be with Josie.”
Wow. That is so sweet. “I’m going to his fundraiser at the Met.”
“Cool,” he says. “Need a date for that too?”
I smile. Maybe he doesn’t see me as that woman who keeps putting him through stuff. “You’re willing to commit to two dates in a row with me? What if you have a terrible time on Saturday, and then you’re stuck with me the next Saturday?”
“What if I have a great time?”
My stomach does a topsy-turvy flip. “What if.”
“So my question is, do I need to pretend we have a relationship for the press?”
Easy question. “If you wouldn’t mind, it would make everything a little easier. It’s up to you, though. Only if you’re okay with it. We can say we’re just friends. It’s true anyway.”
“I’m fine with the fake relationship thing. Anything I should know?”
I let out a breath of relief. His agreement means less explaining to reporters, which is always a good thing. “I’ll come up with a story and fill you in on the way there. Thanks again, Garrett.”
“You should call me Beast. Everyone does.”
“Because you’re a beast of a man with your bulky muscles?” I cringe. I can’t believe I just said that.
“Nailed it,” he says with a laugh.
“And what will you call me?”
“Beauty.”
My breath stutters out. Beauty and the Beast. So romantic. And the thing is, I always saw myself as Belle with her love of books. I might harbor secret princess fantasies. Not something the general who raised me would’ve tolerated. I love my grandmother, but she’s a difficult woman. Joan Ellis spits nails for breakfast. I indulged my princess fantasies by watching movies at friends’ houses.
“Thank you, Beast.”
“See ya Saturday, Beauty.”
5
Harper
I ride the elevator of my apartment building down with Joe, my new shadow, to the car that’ll take us to the gala tonight. I’m tense about my speech and desperately trying to take it down a notch. I did warn Garrett I’d be a mess. The driver already picked him up, and he’s waiting in the back seat. I’m still a little surprised he agreed to go. Most guys are in an event like this for the PR, and—dirty little secret here—when I don’t have a boyfriend, the date is often a setup between our publicists. Garrett has nothing to gain by being seen with me. In fact, he’s doing me a favor, helping me save face with a fake relationship. Maybe Josie sang my praises, who knows; I’m just glad to have a drama-free date. I’m stressed enough about my speech. I’ve rewritten it five times. I’m worried I’ll say the wrong version or Frankenstein them together in a way that doesn’t make sense.
When I reach the sidewalk, the driver, Michael, steps out to open the door to the back