Page 93 of Boyfriend of the Hour
It was my favorite outfit and the polar opposite of Bergdorf’s. And him.
“Don’t just say I can do what I want. Tell me something you like about my clothes. And don’t bullshit me.”
Again, he looked over my outfit, but this time, his gaze burned a little. And not in a bad way.
My heartbeat seemed to drop somewhere between my legs.
“I like what you’re wearing a lot,” he said. “Especially that.” He pointed at the bustier. “What is it called?”
“A b-bustier,” I said.
He nodded and silently mouthed the word. “It’s very flattering. I like the way it reveals your hips and how it creates a different shape to your décolletage that is very, um, tempting.” His eyes looked like they wanted to drop to said body part but didn’t. Instead, they burned even brighter when they met mine. “Is that adequate?”
Slowly, I nodded. “That’s, um—” I cleared my throat of a frog that seemed to have come out of nowhere. “Yes, that’s just fine.”
“Good. Now, we’re supposed to have dinner at Per Se on Friday with my colleagues, like I said. Would you wear something like this? Because honestly, if that’s what you want, I’m fine with it.”
From anyone else, the question might have sounded condescending. Utterly preposterous and designed to make me sound like a total idiot. In those circumstances, too, I would have thrown a fit. Told the speaker to fuck right off, that I wore what I liked, and they could go screw themselves if they didn’t like it.
I’d done it more than once to Shawn. Other men I’d “dated.” My sisters. Even Nonna, though with maybe more appropriate language.
But right now, I didn’t see a shred of that condescension in Nathan’s eyes. He wasn’t judging me. He just really wanted to know what I preferred. WhatIwanted.
“Is—is that a nice restaurant?” I wondered lamely.
Nathan nodded. Again, without a drop of shame. “It has three Michelin stars.”
Well, I knew that was good. Having a famous chef for a brother-in-law had at least taught me that much.
“Well, then, no,” I finally said. “I wouldn’t wear something like this.” And then I admitted something I probably never would have admitted to anyone else. “At least, I don’t think I would. I don’t really know what to wear. I’ve never been to a restaurant that nice.”
“So, what do I say here?” Nathan gave my hand a little shake. “What would a good boyfriend say? I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I just want to help.”
And he did. Finally, I could see it. Nathan wasn’t trying to make me into something I wasn’t or tell me I wasn’t good enough. He was as lost as I was, trying to do his best.
“A good boyfriend would say exactly what you just said,” I told him honestly. “And then, you know, we’d probably have some crazy makeup sex in the dressing rooms.”
Immediately, Nathan’s face flushed the color of the bright red dress hanging from one of the mannequins.
“But we can skip that part,” I quickly amended. “Don’t worry, I won’t jump you. Again, I mean.”
“Do you, ah, want me to kiss you?” Again, he didn’t look like he was joking.
And, of course, he wouldn’t. Stupid me, I should have remembered. Nathan didn’t joke much. Or at least didn’t really understandmine.
“Uh—Well—I—” The moment couldn’t have needed clear communication more. And here I was, stumbling over every word.
“It’s probably not a bad idea,” he said like he was thinking through the weather. “We’ll probably have to kiss here and there in front of people to seem genuine. Nothing profane, of course, but we should probably practice a few times, so it isn’t awkward.” He blinked. “Don’t you think?”
I shrugged, though every cell in my body was suddenly dancing in place at just the idea of kissing this gorgeous man again. On purpose. And, you know, without being in the middle of a nervous breakdown.
Don’t get carried away, Joni. It’s justpretend.
I could pretend-kiss. I’d done it before onstage and kissed plenty of other people I barely knew, so I could definitely fake kiss someone as beautiful as Nathan Hunt.
So I popped up on my toes and smacked a quick kiss on Nathan’s cheek, surprising him right out of holding my hand, even into taking a few steps back in shock.
I grinned. “There. We kissed. All made up, just like if this was a real relationship.”
