Page 29 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

An hour and a half and a bottle of wine later, Dara and I have flogged this contract to death. We’ve looked at every scenario and how it will play out. I’ve told her that it will be a temporary thing and that once the deal is over, I will deposit more than enough money into her account that will be more than enough to start up her own restaurant.

We both seem to be happy with everything discussed, and with the main issue resolved, we move on to my other proposal. I tell her I’ll need her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, apart from the days I’m in the city.

“Okay. What are your requirements for your meals? Is there anything you’re allergic to? Anything I might accidentally poison you with?”

I smile. “I’m pretty easy to cook for as long as I’m never served liver, pak choi, or eggplant.”

Dara is now smiling in surprise. “Not your favorite foods?”

I pull a face that best describes my utter disgust, and she bursts into laughter. It’s the first time I can recall hearing her laugh, and in that instant, my stomach flips, which is more than a little strange.

“It’s the texture,” I say, still a little puzzled at my body’s reaction. “It’s just…” I shiver at the memory of first tasting any of those things, “Bleurgh.”

“Bleurgh, huh?” she repeats, clearly teasing me. “That’s a great description.”

I chuckle a little then. She’s right. It’s hardly the most comprehensive way of describing my dislike, but in my mind, it sums it up perfectly.

“Okay. I will take special care not to put any bleurgh into your meals.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, but I’m still smiling.

We end the evening with a handshake and a reminder that her job as my fake fiancée will start at the same time she begins working as my chef. There’s no rush. I still have to arrange a meeting with Jack Norton.

When I walk her to the door, she turns to me and says, “This still feels weird.”

“I know. But it won’t be for long.”

“What about Mark?” The question throws me completely off balance.

I flounder because I don’t have an answer for her. After another few seconds’ hesitation, I grab the only thing I can say. “Let’s just play it by ear for now. And please don’t forget what I said. No one can know about this.”

She nods. “My lips are sealed.”

12

Dara

The week has flown by, and I clamber into my car after finishing my last shift at Joe’s Diner, currently ran by a man named Chuck. I can honestly say, I won’t miss it, though I’ll miss Beth. She always brought joy to my work day.

In fact, the only time I’ve ever seen her look upset is when I told her I was going to be leaving.

Her sweet round face had crumpled. “Oh, Dara. But why?”

“This was never meant to be permanent, Beth,” I soothed. “We both knew that.”

She sighed heavily and nodded. “I know. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

She had asked where I was going, and I had told her the truth. There was no point lying. Word travels faster than Usain Bolt in this town. Besides, if I’m going to live a lie in the coming weeks, I want to try and remain as true to myself in as many other areas of my life as possible.

“The surgeon?” she had blurted. “But I thought you couldn’t stand him?”

“Well,” I said, trying to think of a reasonable excuse to give her that wouldn’t make her suspicious, “maybe I was a bit hasty. It’s good money, and I’ve kind of warmed up to him a bit.”

When I thought about that afterward, I realized that it was actually the truth. When I agreed to do his dinner party, I did it for the money. The idea of doing something that would get me closer to opening a place of my own could only be a good thing.

But since I’ve spent time with him, I’ve come to realize that maybe he’s not as bad as I thought. And no, my mind hasn’t been changed because he’s going to spring me the money I need to open a restaurant. I have better principles than that.

There’s been a few things that have brought me round. Making a fool of myself in my kitchen last week was one of them. But how was I to know that most of my parents’ funding comes from Dr. Alex Bennett?

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