because her mind had been too concerned with finishing her proposal and she hadn’t wanted to dwell on the fact she was even in this predicament. But she was in it, and it was time to face it and work out how she was going to make this farce work with her fake and very famous boyfriend.
‘It would have been nice if you had thought to let me know who you are,’ she said waspishly.
‘I did tell you my name. And my job.’
Miller pressed her lips together as she took in his cavalier tone and relaxed demeanour. That was true—up to a point. ‘You must have known that I didn’t recognise you.’ She paced away from him, unable to stand still under his disturbing grey-blue gaze.
Valentino shrugged. ‘If I’d thought it was going to be an issue I would have mentioned it.’
‘How could you think it wouldn’t be?’ she fumed, stopping mid-pace to stare at him. ‘Everyone in the country knows who you are.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘That’s because I don’t follow sport, but…Oh, never mind. I need to use the bathroom and think.’
After splashing cold water on her face Miller glanced at her pale reflection and thought about what she knew about her fake boyfriend other than the garbage he’d thrown at her in the car. Taxi driver…How he would laugh if he knew she had entertained that thought for a while.
Okay, no need to rehash that embarrassing notion. It was time to think. Strategise.
She knew he was a world-class athlete and a world-class womaniser with a penchant for blonde model-types—although she couldn’t recall where she’d read that, or how long ago. Regardless, it still made it highly improbable that they would be seeing each other. And she knew everyone who saw them together would be thinking the same thing—including Dexter, who would not be backward in asking the question.
Of course she’d refuse to answer it—she never mixed business with her personal life—but Dexter was shrewd. And he’d be too curious about her “relationship” to take it lying down. Anyone who knew her would. Serious, ambitious Miller Jacobs and international playboy Valentino Ventura a couple?
God, what a mess. They had as much in common as a grasshopper with an elephant.
‘You planning to hide out in there for the rest of the weekend?’
His amused voice brought her head around to stare at the closed door. Wrenching it open, she found herself momentarily breathless when she found him filling the space, one arm raised to rest across the top of the doorjamb, making him seem impossibly tall.
She pushed past him and tried to ignore the skitters of sensation that raced through her as her body brushed his. Anger. It was only anger firing her blood.
Taking a couple of calming breaths, she turned to face him. ‘No one is going to believe we’re a couple.’
‘Why not?’
Miller rolled her eyes. ‘For one, I don’t exactly mix in your circles. And for two, I’m not your type and you’re not mine.’
‘You’re a woman. I’m a man. We share a mutual attraction we can’t ignore. Happens all the time.’
To him, maybe.
Miller smoothed her brows, her mind filled with an endless list of problems. ‘You’re right. We can’t say we met at yoga…’
‘Listen, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Let’s keep it as close to the truth as we can. We met at a bar. Liked each other. End of story. That way you’ll feel more comfortable and it’s highly probable—not to mention true.’
Except for the liking part. Right now Miller couldn’t recall liking anyone less.
Valentino opened his bag on the bed.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked softly.
His eyes met hers. Held. ‘You know why I’m here,’ he said, just as softly. ‘You challenged me to be here.’
Miller arched an eyebrow. ‘I thought you said you were thirty-three, not thirteen.’
A crooked grin kicked up the corners of his mouth and he pulled his shirt up over his rippling chest. Lord, did men really look that good unairbrushed?
Last night’s dream flashed before her eyes and she was relieved when he turned his back on her. Only then she got to view his impressive back, and her eyes automatically followed the line of his spine indented between lean, hard muscle. ‘What exactly are you doing?’
He dropped his T-shirt on the bed and turned to face her. ‘Changing my shirt for dinner. I don’t want to embarrass you by coming across too casual to meet your friends.’
Ha! Now that she knew who he was she knew he’d impress everyone downstairs even in a clown suit.
Tino shrugged into his shirt and tiny pinpricks of heat glanced across his back as he felt Miller’s eyes on him. A powerful surge of lust and the desire to press her up against the nearest wall and explore the attraction simmering between them completely astounded him. He’d been trying to keep things light and breezy between them—his usual modus operandi—but his libido was insistently arguing the toss.
‘Next time I’d prefer you to use the bathroom,’ she said stiffly. ‘And these people aren’t my friends. They’re business colleagues—although as to that I doubt I’ll know many of the other people in attendance.’
‘How many are staying here?’
‘I think six others tonight. Tomorrow night at TJ’s fiftieth party I have no idea.’
‘I thought this was a business weekend?’
‘TJ likes to multi-task.’
Tino rolled his silk shirt sleeves and noticed her frowning at his forearms. ‘Problem?’
His question galvanised her into action and she crossed to her small suitcase and started rifling through it.
‘I’ll be ten minutes.’
Five minutes later she reappeared in the doorway and padded over to the wardrobe. She barely looked different from the way she had when she’d gone in. Black tailored pants, a black beaded top, and a thin pink belt bissecting the two. She perched on the armchair and secured a fancy pair of stilettos on her dainty feet. The silence between them was deafening.
‘Am I getting the silent treatment?’
She exhaled slowly and he noticed the way the beads on her top swayed from side to side. ‘I hope you’re not currently in a relationship.’
‘Would I be here with you if I was?’
‘I don’t know. Would you?’
Her chin had come up and he was surprised he had to control irritation at her deliberate slur. She didn’t know him, and he supposed, given his reputation—which wasn’t half
