Blake’s mother had canceled plans last-minute to come to Knoxville for the holidays Darby hadn’t been able to bear the thought of him alone at Christmas.
“But it never hurts to have a fresh eye give a second opinion,” he continued. “Speaking of second opinions, what do I need to pack for this weekend?”
Dread filled her stomach. Was she really going to subject Blake to her humiliating high school experiences?
Of course, she was. Because she wasn’t that shy, geeky girl who’d rather have had her nose stuck in a book than in a fashion magazine. She was a successful doctor with a fabulous life.
Okay, so she didn’t have a real boyfriend, and was bringing her business partner instead, but no one had to know that the scrumptious man with her wasn’t madly in love with her.
Her gaze landed on Blake. He was scrumptious to look at—the classic tall, dark and handsome—and she was half in lust with him, so that had to count for something, right?
No one would accuse her of being a virgin when she had a virile man like Blake making googly eyes at her. Which should be enough to ease the bile burning her throat, yet wasn’t.
Why wasn’t she eagerly anticipating the chance to prove to Armadillo Lake just how wrong they’d been about her? Surely she wasn’t still intimidated by her classmates? By Mandy?
No way.
Or maybe she was intimidated, because at times she wondered if they’d been right about her. After all, she was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin. By choice, but still a virgin.
Maybe her nervousness stemmed from the man before her. Had she really asked Blake to pretend to be in love with her? To spend the weekend with her, share a hotel room with her?
“Saturday afternoon is a picnic at the town park, so something casual for that. The reunion itself is being held at the Armadillo Lake Lodge’s ballroom and will be dressy. Not tuxedo formal, but you’ll need a suit.” She raked her gaze over him, imagining him at the party. He’d look good in a tux, but that would definitely be overkill. A tux would scream “trying too hard”. She wanted their relationship to look real, not make-believe.
She wanted their relationship to be real, not make-believe.
She bit back a sigh. Their relationship was real. They had a great business relationship, were ideal partners. Anything beyond that would only make life complicated, because if she and Blake ever became involved that way she’d end up hurt and losing everything. But what if…?
“Picnic and dressy.” Winking, he shot her with his finger. “Gotcha.”
Fighting to look as if her mind wasn’t racing in unwanted directions, she lifted her shoulders. “Wear that blue button-down you bought for the hospital Christmas party last year. I like how that looks on you.”
His brow quirked. “Tell me, which part do you like?”
Darby winced. Had she really just said that she liked how his shirt fit him?
“The part that covers you up,” she quipped, stepping into the back hallway leading to their private offices. No way would she admit to liking how the material emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
“Now, now,” he chided, “that’s not how you should be talking to the man you’re madly in love with.”
Certain her heart throbbed in her throat, despite knowing such a feat was physically impossible, Darby froze, rounded on him. “I’m not madly in love with you.”
She might have feelings for Blake, but she didn’t do love. At the young age of sweet sixteen she’d learned that love hurt way too much, and credited herself with being intelligent enough not to make the same mistake twice.
“Oh?” His brow lifted again, high enough that a lock of his inky hair hid the top of the arch. “Is this a one-sided love affair, then? I’m insane for you, but you’re immune to my charms?” His lips twitched. “Or are you just using me for phenomenal sex?”
Trying not to think of phenomenal sex and Blake in the same context, Darby gulped. “You’re crazy.”
Perhaps she was crazy, too. Otherwise why would she have asked him to go to Armadillo Lake? Even forgetting how she’d deal with spending a weekend in a hotel room with him, he’d tease her mercilessly over the things he’d learn about the old Darby. She’d never live down the jokes, the puns.
“We really should get our story straight before this weekend.” He took her elbow, led her into her office, pausing only long enough to caress the heart model as they passed by the shelf. “Maybe we should practice.”
“Practice?” Darby’s ears roared. Her heart thudded, pounding wildly against her ribcage and threatening to once again leap into her throat. Her gaze dropped to his lips and the desire to practice hit so hard she thought she might faint.
Then the most brilliant idea hit her. One in which she’d risk everything—but some risks were worth taking.
CHAPTER TWO
“DO YOU even like the people you went to school with?” Blake stuck a French fry in his mouth. Although he usually ate healthily, French fries were his Achilles’ heel. The hotter and saltier the better. Thanks to the hospital cafeteria ladies knowing his vice, they always put on a fresh batch just for him.
“Of course I like them,” Darby insisted, but color rose in her cheeks. “I went to high school with them.”
“Doesn’t mean you like them.” He stuck another fry in his mouth, assuring himself the five miles he ran each morning would clear out the excessive cholesterol. “I’ve never heard you mention anyone you went to school with.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I had some good friends back in school.”
“So good that you’re bringing a fake date to impress them?”
She didn’t meet his eyes, took a sip of her water. “You should be flattered, since you get to be the impressive fake date.”
“There is that,” he mused, studying her, trying to get a feel for whatever it was she was hiding.
And Darby was hiding something.
He couldn’t put his finger on what, but something had her buzzing about the prospect of returning to Armadillo Lake.
“Tell me about your hometown.”
Her face pinched into a scowl. “Not much to tell.”
Right.
“I’m going to your reunion this weekend. Don’t you think I should know a little about your past?”
“Not really.” Her nose curled, as if she’d taken a sniff of something vile. “We’ve known each other for what—four years? What you don’t already know, you don’t need to know.”
“I disagree.” What did he know about her past? Not much. Just that she’d grown up in a small
