Page 83 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
"You really think your shirt is going to fit me? I might as well walk around with a sign on my forehead that says I just got fucked by the CEO in his office."
I raise an eyebrow, move her aside, and get up. Walking to the corner closet, I reach in and pull out a brand-new shirt in her size and style.
"Ta-da."
I hand it to her with a grin, but she eyes it suspiciously.
"It's new," I tell her. "I got it for you a few days ago, actually."
Her suspicion turns to surprise. "Well-prepared, aren't you? Been planning to rip my shirt off or something? Or is this just normal behavior for you?"
"I like to be prepared," I admit. "Besides, yeah, truth be told, I thought something like this might happen again."
I help her into it, enjoying the slow, intimate act of dressing her. When she reaches for the buttons, I brush her hands away and finish fastening them myself.
"What did she want?" she asks finally, checking her reflection in the wall mirror—reminding me what started this whole thing in the first place.
"Ready to admit you were jealous? If so, I'll tell you."
"I wasn't jealous," she says quickly. "It's the principle of the thing. We both agreed there wouldn't be any other lovers, and then I walk in and see your ex here."
"And you thought what? That we were getting back together?"
She blushes, and I can't help laughing. Then I kiss her because she's too damn adorable not to.
"I don't know what she wanted," I say. "She'd literally just arrived when you came barging in like some kind of SWAT team. Then you told her to leave, and she did—as you know. If I had to guess, I'd say George sent her to butter me up, hoping I'd go easier on him."
"The audacity."
"You got that right." I'm glad someone else sees it. "I think she also wanted a little walk down memory lane, but I wasn't interested. I was about to kick her out right when you walked in."
"Really?"
"Really. What about you? You couldn't have known Marina was here, so what the hell are you doing here anyway?"
"Just bringing over some food," she says, gesturing toward the takeout bag on the floor, which now has soup leaking out of it. "But I guess that's a bust. I should clean that up."
"No need—I'll call the cleaner."
Instead, I tug her back into my lap. "So, you wore the pumps just to deliver food to me? Trying to tempt me?"
"Don't flatter yourself." She rolls her eyes. "I was already wearing them and forgot to take them off before I came. I didn't do that for you."
"Right. The same way you weren't jealous. They just happened to be on your feet at the time, huh? And you didn't even notice? Do you think I was born yesterday?"
She blushes a gorgeous shade of pink and opens her mouth to fire back—but before she can, my door bursts open again without warning. Poor Carissa isn't having an easy day out front, it seems.
I glance up, ready to tell whoever it is to get lost.
But this time it's my father, standing there with a thunderous expression that tells me he knows—or at least guesses—exactly what's been going on in here, and he's highly disapproving.
I sigh.
Good thing I'm not busy, because with one interruption after another, it's pretty clear not much work is getting done today.
CHAPTER 25
Jenna
