Page 51 of Failure to Match

And if his mouth hadn’t twitched again, indicating that he was, in fact, attempting to make a joke, I’d havenopedright out of the deal and told him to go shove it.

14

As it turned out,my jeans didn’t stay on for very long.

The box arrived at five-thirty on the dot, fifteen minutes after we’d arrived back at the penthouse. It was delivered by a suspiciously cheeky-looking Bensen.

“A gift,” he explained, placing the sleek package on the oversized vanity.

Before I could ask him for further explanation, six other members of staff waltzed in, each holding a large round container filled with perfectly arranged pink roses.

“What… is happening?” I asked as the arrangements were peppered on various surfaces across the suite.

Toebeans growled when one of the maids stepped a little too close to the armchair he was occupying, and she immediately thought better of making use of the end table behind him. Smart.

Bensen cleared his throat. “Young Master Sinclair would like you to know that he is very much looking forward to your date this evening.”

“Oh that’s, um, it’s not a real date,” I explained quickly, on the very off chance that he wasn’t already aware.

“Of course.” He was really struggling with the whole not-smiling thing. In fact, he looked about ready to burst into a laugh.

Warmth splashed over my cheeks, which only made himlose further control over his (incredibly misplaced and unnecessary) glee.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Bensen concluded with a slight bow of his head. “I do sincerely hope you enjoy yourself on your non-date date, Miss Paquin.”

Okay, well, he didn’t need to put it likethat. It made the fake part of the whole thing sound fake. Which, obviously, it wasn’t.

This was a very real fake date.

It wasn’t until the rest of the staff started filing out of the room that I noticed their expressions. Bensen wasn’t the only one miserably failing to mask his amusement. One of the younger maids stole a brief glance at me as she passed, and I heard the distinct sound of a muffled giggle as soon as the door shut behind them. It was quicklyshushed.

Weird.

I swiped my palms over my jeans, frowning at the boxed roses.

This was incredibly excessive for an evaluation date. Which, again, was exactly what this was—a one-hour dinner with the client from hell, just so I could reaffirm what I already knew about his coaching needs. Then I could proceed with my diabolical plans of exacting miserable revenge on him, all the while trying to keep my promise to the Harrison sisters.

Plus, professionally speaking, working with the most accurate data available was generally advised. It would be helpful to know what he was like on a date he wasn’t trying to actively sabotage.

I made my way over to the gift Bensen had brought with him, a strange, swirly sensation rushing through me. The box wasquite elegant—a luxurious midnight velvet with a cream ribbon knotted tastefully around it. An envelope was tucked beneath its lush bow, and my name was swept over it in delicate cursive.

I reached for it, my blood humming with unexpected anticipation.

One night.Just go with it.

I placed the card down, carefully stripped off the lid, and gasped.

I audibly gasped.

Folded neatly underneath layers of silky tissue paper was a blush-pink dress. A gown, actually, which became evident when I gingerly held up the fabric and watched it spill all the way down to the hardwood. It was, without an iota of doubt, the single most breathtaking item of clothing I’d ever seen in real life.

It shimmered. There were tiny crystals sewn into the buttery fabric, and they glistened delicately every time they caught the light.

It wasmagical.

I had to hand it to him. Jackson Sinclair had fantastictaste in personal shoppers. How had they managed to find something like this so last minute?

On a related note, I had to shave my legs. There was a (very) long slit running up the side of the skirt that looked like it would cut all the way to my upper-upper thigh.

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