Page 5 of The Fiancé Hoax

“Felicity makes beautiful clothing,” Lauren offered as he returned my phone. “All our friends love her designs. And she has a group of dedicated customers. Small, but dedicated.”

I elbowed Lauren and cleared my throat. “I have a devoted clientele who appreciate creative designs. Women who want to wear one-of-kind pieces love my store. Plus, everything is made from natural, sustainable fibers.”

He rubbed his jaw, nodding absently.

“And I studied fashion design in college,” I added.

God, I probably should have worked on my elevator pitch before this party.

“But not business,” he said.

“No, not business.” I took a breath. “But I’m learning! And I do everything on my own. Designs, sewing, sales, accounting.”

“Answering the phone, ordering supplies, cleaning the bathroom.” Lauren counted on her fingers. “The girl’s a workhorse.”

“It’s a labor of love.” I lifted a shoulder. I wanted to come across as casual. Not desperate. “And I’ve managed to keep my doors open for three years.”

“But her landlord’s increasing the rent on her store,” Lauren chipped in. She scoffed and shook her head. “Damn rent hikes. No one recognizes genius anymore.”

“So, you’d like me to invest in your business,” Cooper said.

“Yes.” I nodded quickly.

It was shameless, but I couldn’t help myself.

He studied my dress for a moment, his eyes lingering on my curves. Heat pooled between my legs.

Something told me he was studying more than just the dress.

And God help me, I wanted him to.

“It would be a smart investment,” I added. “All I need is a little more time to get some traction. If I could afford advertising, it would change everything.”

Lauren nodded. “Once word gets out about Moonstone, forget about it. You won’t be able to keep the customers away.”

I waited with bated breath, but Cooper was silent. Finally, he removed his phone from his pocket and typed something on the screen. Lauren and I looked at each other as he read and scrolled.

What the hell? Is he really on Facebook right now?

As the silence dragged on, my stomach twisted. My anxiety turned to annoyance. The least he could do was say no. Instead, he was ignoring me altogether, scrolling through his social media.

I sucked in air, about to tell him off. The nerve—

“Boutique fashion design sales will increase by eighty percent in the next five years,” he said, still reading on his phone.

Oh. He was researching my industry.

“Yes, that’s correct,” I said. “And my clothes are designed for an upscale market. Women who appreciate unique pieces no one else will be wearing.”

“And who have lots of money,” Lauren added.

He read a bit more on his phone, then pocketed it. I held my breath, waiting for him to turn me down.

He leveled his gaze on me. “Want to go somewhere to discuss this? There’s a diner down the road open now.”

“Really?” I chirped. Then I composed myself. “I mean, yes, of course. I’d love to discuss this further.”

I peered around his shoulder. Ruth was no longer standing nearby, but I spotted my father on the other side of the pool, laughing and talking with several of his clients and their spouses. He hadn’t spotted me, but if I walked in his direction, he might see me.

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