Page 38 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

I laugh at her not-so-subtle hinting. “OK, OK! I could maybe sit in on another rehearsal,” I agree. “Give them a few pointers.”

“Thank you!” Suze beams. “They actually listened to you today. Maybe this production won’t wind up a complete disaster, after all!”

My phone buzzes in my purse, and I check the message.

Eddie’s Lobster Shack. 8pm. Meet to discuss the arrangement.

This is Duke, he adds, a moment later.

I blink, staring at the screen in disbelief. Duke wants to meet me tonight– of his own free will? To talk?

About what?

He can’t possibly mean… the fake-dating plan.

Can he?

10

AVERY

By the time I pull up outside Eddie’s that night, a part of me is still expecting this to be one big prank; Duke’s way to exact some humiliating revenge. I’ll walk in, and he’ll be hanging out with his buddies, chuckling away that I could believe he’d agree to spend a single moment in my presence– let alone pretend to be wildly in love with me.

I slowly get out of the car, bracing myself. I figured that if I’m going to be humiliated, I may as well look good doing it, so I took my time getting ready: picking out a floaty sundress and sandals, blow-drying my hair perfectly, and applying a whole face of “barely-there” makeup. I can tell I’m already way overdressed: Eddie’s is a casual seafood joint, with picnic tables overlooking the water, and people lined up for two-for-one fried shrimp platters. The sun is just setting over the bay, streaking the sky with pink, and everyone seems relaxed and sunburned from a day on the beach.

Then I spot Duke. He’s looking anything but relaxed: sitting stiffly at a table by the water, backlit by the sinking sun. He’s wearing jeans and a worn blue T-shirt that makes his tan glow golden; stretched tight across the muscles in his back.

I pause a moment, remembering how his shoulders felt beneath my hands; clinging on for balance as he gripped my hips, his mouth hot against my thigh…

“Avery, babe, there you are.” Quinn appears, air-kissing me on both cheeks before briskly steering me over to Duke. “You guys have great timing, I’m just about to hop a flight back to LA.”

“I, um…” I mumble, thrown for a moment as Duke rises to greet us. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I figured Quinn would know how this kind of thing works,” Duke says, looking awkward and polite. “Since we want to be professional about it.”

Professional.

I take a seat dumbly, still scoping the room for Candid Camera.

Is he actually serious?

“I’m glad you did call,” Quinn says, whipping out her phone and notepad. “This kind of arrangement needs rules and boundaries, or you’ll just create an even bigger mess to clean up.”

“So… you’re really doing this?” I venture, looking to Duke. I search his unshaven face for a hint of an ulterior motive, but he just avoids my gaze, picking at a French fry from the spread of food on the table between us.

“I mean, sure. Why not?”

I can think of at least a hundred good reasons, starting with the fact we can’t spend two minutes together without breaking out in a fight.

“Umm, because you hate fake Hollywood bullshit?” I say instead. “A fact you’ve made more than clear to me. On several occasions.”

Duke gives me an even stare, his blue eyes still inscrutable. “Right. And you said this way the fastest way to get them to back off from the both of us.”

“It is,” Quinn speaks up, already making notes. “Play this right, and they’ll leave you alone. Most of the time. Managed chaos. So, let’s get started. I figure this is the standard fake-dating routine?” She looks back and forth between the two of us.

“There’s a standard?” I ask, surprised.

“Of course,” Quinn looks at me strangely. “It happens all the time. Tessa and Jackson started out that way, and I arranged a whole thing for my client Luke Rafferty – you know, Doctor Casanova?” she adds, naming a hit medical TV show from a few years back. “And a dozen more couples besides. I thought you knew, this is standard in Hollywood, for publicity.”

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