Page 15 of French Martini

Lowen nods, brushing his fingers across his forehead as he steps back. Maybe rabbit is more fitting. He sure likes to run.

I follow him back to the sitting room, as he calls it. He wanted this formal space, and I think it was smart not to give in to Ridley’s idea to make it a video game den. In the back corner is an elaborate bar he found at an antique dealer in the city. It was a beast to get it installed but it gives the room a sexy speakeasy vibe.

Lowen steps behind the bar and begins mixing two cocktails.

“Dirty martinis?”

He shakes his head. “No. Florian suggested I upgrade my signature drink to a French martini to appeal more to customers, and I admit, I’m a little addicted to the sweet tartness of it.”

“What makes it French?”

“Chambord. It’s a black raspberry liqueur. It makes it really pretty too.” He glances up. “I could get you a beer instead.”

“Nope. I’ll have the martini.”

He nods, returning his attention to mixing the drinks. He has no idea how devoted a fake fiancé I can be, but he’s gonna find out. Too bad I can’t tell him that I’m hardly faking. I’ve wanted to romance him off his feet almost since we met. He got under my skin during our first meeting, and I haven’t shaken him off yet.

He walks over to me, his hips swaying in that elegant way they do, and hands me the delicate crystal glass. I watch him sit next to me on the fancy emerald-green velvet couch he calls a divan. He had all the furniture in this room shipped from Europe, along with several pieces he already owned in Paris.

I clink our glasses and take a sip of the deep pink cocktail. It’s surprisingly tasty and refreshing.

“Do you like it?” Lowen asks.

I nod. “It’s tasty. A little dangerous too. You can’t really taste the alcohol.”

He smiles and makes a humming noise. “Exactly. They make an excellent bar special.”

I chuckle. “I bet.”

Silence stretches between us, but the building heat is tangible, at least to me.

“Do you like PDA?” I ask, breaking the tension.

“PDA?” Lowen shakes his head for a second, like he doesn’t understand the term, but then he nods. “Oh. Uh, reasonably, I suppose. Hand holding, subtle touches, that sort of thing is fine.”

I take his hand in mine, entwine our fingers, and rest them on my thigh. He glances down at our hands then back up at me.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m into this.”

Lowen nods, swallowing hard enough that I notice. “I’m out of practice.”

“That’s why I figured we should start now. We can build it up so it seems natural to people.”

“Smart. Um, the itinerary.”

“I’m listening.” I take another sip of my drink, watching the carousel of emotions flicker across his features. This is difficult for him and I need to be aware of that, despite how much I’m enjoying the time with him.

“It starts Monday evening with a reception and a silent auction for charity. It’ll be my post-divorce debut.”

“Got it. Is it formal?”

“Semi. The awards ceremony on Friday is formal. The rest of the events are cocktail. You’ll need a suit. A different look for each night.”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

“I’ll happily reimburse any expenses you incur.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can afford a few suits?”

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