Page 49 of Boss's Fake Fiancé

She purrs the last line, standing on tiptoe to place a kiss on my jaw. I take another deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and the stirring in my boxer briefs. The last thing I need right now is to be seen backing Mel up against Dupont Analytics’ building and ravaging her right here in public. But with adrenaline coursing through my veins, it’s hard to see the logic in that denial.

“Dinner,” I say. “Tomorrow.”

Mel raises a brow. “That’s a blunt way of asking a girl out on a date. You used to be better at this, Jenson.”

I’m sure she doesn’t mean it as a warning, but her words cool my head anyway. “Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?”

“What did you have in mind? I’m guessing you’d want to make it pretty public—”

“Wherever you want.” I can’t stress that enough. I’d take her to a hot dog stand in the middle of the park. I’d Lady-and-the-Tramp it out back of an Italian restaurant if she wants.

She purses her lips together, considering much more than dinner, I think. And then the corner of her mouth lifts.

“Know any good diners around town?”

Chapter19

Melanie

The end of the week finally comes, and despite the chaos of getting back into the groove at work, I’m riding a high. Literally humming as I step out of the apartment Saturday morning and decide to head into the city for some retail therapy.

I don’t need anything in particular, but lately my wardrobe seems…boring. I’m not really a material girl, and I always invest in well-made clothes, but all of a sudden, I have the urge to buy a few new pieces. Maybe some heels? Maybe a new skirt, or some of those skintight pants I see fashionable women wearing on the streets…

It’s definitely not to catch Jenson’s eye.

I bat the thought away; of course it’s not. What’s the point of impressing someone who’s already your fake fiancé? And who has seen you in embarrassing gym shorts in high school.

Still, I have to admit that earlier in the week, I’d agonized over what to wear to dinner. Jenson was true to his word and took me to a hole-in-the-wall diner with crappy coffee and stacks upon stacks of pancakes. He got his usual—a Banker’s Plate, piled high with two of everything—while I dug into the sweets. Texas French toast, a tall glass of OJ, and a blueberry muffin on the side.

It was…good. More than good.

Which is why I need to be careful about falling deeper into this mess. I can’t fall for Jenson, not when this is all going to end in a month. As I hit the city limits, buildings officially climbing higher than two stories, I wonder what to doafter.

Leaving Dupont would be hard. The pay is great, and I don’t hate the work as much as I thought I would. It’s the team, really, that I love. And Boston…it’s different from New York City, which I found stifling and grimy. I can picture staying in Boston.

But would Jenson want me to?

Or once our engagement falls apart, would he want to play the role of “jilted lover” and be left alone? Free to be cared for by all the women waiting to fawn over him?

I try not to think about it as I find a parking garage and navigate the twisting turns. There’s a big shopping center nearby, and it’ll be good to focus on material things instead of my messy life.

* * *

Two skirts,a pair of heels, a new e-book reader, and a serving of cheesy fries later, I’m making my way back toward where I think the car is parked when someone calls out my name.

Liza.

It’s odd seeing her outside of work or the lodge. To my surprise, she gives me a friendly, shy smile and excuses herself from a small group of people who must be friends.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I return, happy and relieved that she’s finally forgiven me for keeping a not-so-secret matter from her.

“Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt your day—I just wanted to thank you.”

My brows knit. “For what?”

My mind whirring away, I try to think of what I might’ve done to help Liza out. Did I get a report to her early? Did I cover her butt, somehow?

---