Page 9 of Yours Temporarily

Zuri blinks as if she didn’t hear what I said. She’s not smiling, but she’s not frowning either. Is she surprised or shocked? Maybe something between those lines. “That’s quite a request. Why a fake date?”

“I’m not looking for a relationship or anything. Been there, done that.” I wave in the air, giving in to the need to explain myself. More than anything, I fear getting rejected. “It’s to stop my mother’s matchmaking. She wants me back with my ex.”

Why am I telling her all these details? Well, she needs to understand this is temporary. “We go back to our normal routine as soon as the wedding is over.” I square my shoulders and meet her gaze.

She bites her lower lip, seemingly weighing my proposition. But it’s adorable, and my gaze fixes on her round lips longer than necessary—unintentionally, of course.

My unconventional proposal seems to clog the room. Zuri nods as she scuffs one foot back and forth on the white area rug over my marble flooring. “This is an interesting twist to our… collision. Let me think about it.” She falls silent, drawing a line with the toe of her shoe, then smoothing it out. Meanwhile, I fork a jalapeño popper and lift it to my mouth to occupy my hands.

“Your request isn’t the oddest I’ve ever encountered.” She breaks the brief lull, a lightness in her voice.

“It’s not?” I wipe my mouth with a napkin, my curiosity piqued now that we don’t have to focus on the awkwardness I created.

“Well… One time I entered a couple’s baking contest by myself. I was so desperate not to miss it that I convinced a guy waiting in line at the coffee shop to be my ‘husband’ for the day.” I’m not sure why I get a sudden discomfort when she talks about this guy. “We ended up winning third place for a cake more lopsided than a sinking ship. He still texts me every year on the ‘anniversary’ of our victory.”

“Now that was a bold move on your end—”

She holds up a hand, silencing me. “You might find this even more odd.” Her eyes dance in the vibrant light through the windows, her hands moving as she talks. “One time, I was walking my neighbor’s dog at the dog park, and I ran into this guy who believed his pet could tell if someone was ‘the one’ for him. Apparently, he was looking for a female dog owner and considered it a sign based on whether the dogs got along. And I’ll spare you the details of my first time in a couples-only salsa dancing.” Her hand covers her mouth, stifling another fit of giggles.

By the time Zuri leaves my office and I get back to my computer, she’d stayed well over an hour, though it barely felt like thirty minutes. Her presence seems to warp time, making it pass unnoticed.

My gaze flits to the now-closed frosted door. I’m half-expecting Zuri to walk back in and accept my proposal. As crazy as the idea might be, it’s a necessary strategy to deal with my mother’s relentless matchmaking with my ex-girlfriend. If you’re going to fake dating, why not with someone whose company you enjoy?

Zuri would be the perfect fake date—fiancée actually since I told Mom I’m engaged. My phone buzzes, and a message from Clarissa flashes on-screen. A frown creases my forehead as I swipe to read her text.

Clarissa: You could’ve just told me you were busy before I wasted my time coming by. Let me know if you want to catch dinner tonight.

Dinner? Yikes. Clarissa might’ve come by while Zuri was in my office. I stand, and my swivel chair rolls further to the cupboards. What happened? Why did Clarissa leave without seeing me?

Jill’s by the watercooler next to the long conference table, deep in conversation with Emma, my boss Logan Stone’s assistant. Emma works on the fifty-ninth floor but sometimes takes the stairs to come down for her breaks so she can exercise throughout the day.

Sucking on a lollipop, Jill stands there, listening to whatever Emma is saying—funny for a woman in her forties to love that kind of candy. As I approach, the women glance at me, and when I say hello to Emma, she lifts her water cup. “I’d better head back upstairs.”

“Hello, Mr. Kress,” Jill singsongs, her knowing grin slightly hidden as she sucks on the red lollipop before walking back to her desk. She believes that, whenever I come to her, she needs to be behind her computer. This is usually true since I often need her to jot something down in the schedule if I haven't emailed her about it.

“Mr. Kress, really?” I follow her. She calls me Jeremy unless she’s up to some mischief. When she steps behind her tall desk, I lean against it. “Did someone else come by today?” If I were in Clarissa’s situation, I’d be furious about the wasted time.

Jill settles her lollipop on a napkin. “You said to look out for a gorgeous woman. I sent one who wasn’t gorgeous back, told her you were busy.”

I wince against a twinge of guilt. “And Zuri? Who arrived first?”

“The other lady came first. But I have to say, Zuri’s quite a doll, right?” Her eyes twinkle as she tilts her head. “Isn’t Zuri prettier than, well, whoever her name is? Plus, Zuri brought food. A way to a man’s stomach.” She smiles, patting her stomach, then pulls over her chair, and climbs into it. It’s always hard to tell whether she is sitting or standing behind that tall desk.

Zuri’s beauty is subtle, but after spending time in her company, I find her far more attractive beyond her outward appearance. She’s captivating.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, thrown off-balance. And now Clarissa thinks I stood her up again. “I didn’t know Zuri was coming.”

Jill picks up her lollipop and points at me with it. “Jeremy, you never talk about any woman, and now you’ve got two in one day?”

As she laughs at me, I grin. Yep. What a mess I’ve created.

I return to my office, and my phone buzzes again with a text from an unknown number. I read the message, curiosity coursing through me.

Unknown: I snatched your business card on my way out, called Jill, and got your number. Can we meet at the café downstairs tomorrow at five? Rumor has it you like to work until seven, but I’ll bring dinner. We can discuss more about this “fake dating” of ours.

“Of ours.” Does that mean she’s in?

Excitement tingles through me as my thumb hovers over the phone screen. I haven’t clarified my need for her to pose as my fiancée, not merely as a date. This arrangement must be convincing enough to derail my mother’s plans. As I begin to type a response, my mind races with the implications. Goodbye, Clarissa. Welcome, Zuri.

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