Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,62
waits to get you home to fuck you? If it were anyone else telling me this story—except you, Hazel—I’d think you were lying. I didn’t think a unicorn like that existed. I might have to write an article about this. No names, of course.”
“He was very exceptional.”
“But Everly,” Hazel said, her voice soft. “Are you sure this is wise? You’re pretending to be engaged, but now you’re not pretending to be having sex?”
“Believe me, I know. I have no idea what this means. Maybe it was just inevitable. How long was I supposed to hold out? I’m sleeping right next to him and you guys, he smells like man heaven.”
“He likes the way you smell, too,” Nora said.
“What? How do you know?”
“Didn’t you see the way he leaned closer to you?” she asked. “He was totally indulging in a whiff.”
“Studies show scent is a powerful force in attraction,” Hazel said. “In fact, there’s evidence to suggest that a percentage of failed marriages have, at their root, an insurmountable scent incompatibility.”
“You mean people get divorced because they don’t like the way their partner smells?” Nora asked.
“It’s not usually a conscious thing, and more study is needed to draw solid conclusions, but yes. That’s how strongly humans react to scent.”
“So Everly and Shepherd have scent compatibility on their side,” Nora said brightly. “I amend my previous warning about catching feelings. You’ve clearly caught them, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”
I eyed my friend. Who was this, and what had she done with Nora? “You don’t?”
“Not at all.”
Hazel appeared similarly perplexed. “You realize this has the potential to go badly for at least a dozen reasons.”
“I know it does.” Nora waved her hand like those things didn’t matter. “You’re supposed to be faking Ms. Right, and what happens when you don’t have to fake it anymore? And he’s your boss, so there’s the added complication of your career. But I’m on Team Shepherd. I think this is it, Everly.”
My heart sang with hope at the suggestion. But there were so many unknowns. So many potential problems. Just because I’d slept with Shepherd didn’t mean he intended to take our relationship from fake to real. Maybe we were just indulging in pure physical attraction.
But if he’d just wanted in my pants, he wouldn’t have had to show me his band. Or his secret hideaway. Was there really something happening between us? Something deeper than the raw power of sexual attraction?
Could Shepherd have feelings for me too?
I was afraid to hope Nora was right.
22
Shepherd
Leaning my hip against the kitchen counter, I took a sip of my whiskey while I eyed Everly. She was curled up in that ugly yellow bean bag chair, reading a book, an almost-empty glass of wine perched on her knee. Dressed in a pink shirt and a pair of light blue shorts that showed a hell of a lot of leg, she was a bright pop of color in my living room.
Not just in the room. In my life.
I wasn’t playing at the bar tonight, so normally I would have poured my whiskey and gone straight to my office. Instead, I lingered, watching her, my eyes roving over her skin. Her silky hair. Thinking of all the ways I wanted to fuck her tonight.
As if she could feel my eyes on her, she glanced up.
The hint of shyness in her face drove me crazy. She smiled, nibbling her bottom lip, and uncurled herself to stand.
“Hi,” she said as she came into the kitchen. She finished the last of her wine and set the glass by the sink.
I looked her up and down, not bothering to hide the heat in my gaze. “Hi.”
She was magnetic, her pull irresistible. I closed the distance between us, slipping a hand around her waist. Leaned in to brush my lips against hers.
“Shep—oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I stepped back and turned to my dad. “Do you need something?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I’m glad you’re both here. We need to talk details about your engagement party.”
“We don’t need an engagement party.”
“Of course you do,” he said, as if the very notion shocked him. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it very private. No public announcements. No press. In fact, keeping it secretive will increase the appeal. Maybe we can work that into the theme.”
“Theme?” Everly asked, her voice amused.
“I’m thinking Roaring Twenties. Something very Great Gatsby, with glitz and glamour. Live jazz. What do you think?”