Page 38 of Hard to Fake

“None you need to know about to take me to the sorority event.”

“More I know about you, the more authentic it will be.”

“The point isn’t to be real. It’s to be convincing.”

“Yeah, and for the next week, we’re on the same team. So, tell me about this sorority thing," he says. His voice comes from lower than I expect, as if he’s bent over to pull on pants. “Is it all braiding each other’s hair and singing songs?”

“No.” I try to sound indignant, but there is some of that too. “The afternoon we arrive, there are games, followed by dinner. After is sisters-only business, so you have some free time. Your job is to be the perfect date throughout. An attractive accessory.”

“So, a trophy.”

“Exactly. The girls should want to be with you. The guys should want to be you.”

I don’t tell him he probably has a lock on that already just by being himself.

“Right. Any conversation topics to avoid?”

“All of them. In fact, don’t speak. If they speak to you, better if you answer in monosyllables.”

“You could take a mannequin from the store instead. Maybe he’d come with the clothes.”

Miles comes out of the changing room, and I’m not prepared for the sight.

The camel quarter-zip cashmere sweater is a few shades lighter than his hair. The gray chinos cling to his hips.

“How do I look?” A dimple appears, and God, it’s unfair for one person to be so lethally attractive.

He’s so fucking hot I’m a breath from asking the store to turn on the air conditioning even though it’s the end of October.

The sweater and chinos make him preppy, but there’s a rough edge to him. The dark hair and cut jaw and arrogant eyes would set him apart from a million former frat boys. He’s as at home in these clothes as he was in sweatpants answering his door.

“You look okay,” I concede.

“Just okay?” He cocks his head.

“I’m not feeding your ego.”

“Do it, Princess. I’m fucking starved for validation.” His teasing makes my teeth want to bite my lip.

The sales associate comes in and gasps. “You look… wow.”

He turns that grin on her. I can practically see her ovaries melt.

“You need these to fall like this…” I step between them and bend down to adjust the hem of his pants.

“So, who’s the competition?” Miles asks me.

“Hmmm?”

I tip my face up and realize I’m on my knees in front of him.

His lashes are lowered as he peers down at me, lips parted and head cocked.

It’s sexy as hell.

“For this deal you’re trying to land.”

“Right.” I shake off the position we’re in. “Caroline. She was sorority president my junior and senior year.”

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