Page 92 of Love Contract

I was almost embarrassed for him, how bad he was at answering those questions. After working with her for four years? I bet the janitor’s more observant.

Angus knows things about Theo—the things that matter tohim.He just doesn’t think much about what matters to her.

Which is a shame because it’s really not that hard to make Theo happy.

She’s not a simple person, but she is a pure one. Pure in heart, pure in desire. She likes fresh fruit, warm sunshine, walks on the beach, live music, breaking bread with friends, a good sleep after a long day…

She’s not trying to fuck with anyone.

Which is why I’m not a fan of Jessica. She hasn’t stopped taking shots at Theo all night long. It’s a good thing we’re skipping dessert because it’s starting to get under my skin.

I visit the bathroom before leaving the restaurant. When I come out, Jessica’s lying in wait.

“Hi, Sullivan.”

Ugh.

She positions her body in the tight space so it’s impossible for me to get past without touching her or asking her to move.

She’s beautiful but the sort of beauty I like the least, one that owes more to a surgeon’s blade than to nature. She’s got all the trendiest upgrades—the fox eye lift, filler in her lips and cheeks, a sculpted ski jump of a nose, and maybe even a shaved-down jaw, if she flew to Korea where that sort of thing is legal.

Her surgeon was an artist—the work is flawless. But that’s exactly what gives her an android-like appearance, too smooth and stiff to show any real expression.

Theo’s eyes are large and soulful in her heart-shaped face, and that face is always in motion, flushed with delicate tints of color, lashes fluttering, lips trembling, emotions flitting like ghosts, so quick I have to watch her constantly to catch them.

There’s no comparison.

But if I have to compare…I don’t have to think twice.

I do, however, have to figure out a way to shake off this girl with a minimum of drama.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” I say, trying to sneak past.

Jessica did not eat one bite of her dinner as far as I could tell, pushing it around on her plate instead. That’s the typical model diet: excuses and air.

“Not really,” she says. “And you never answered my question.”

“I thought I answered all your questions while you were auditioning for game show host.”

“That was a test,” she says, stepping closer but not letting me pass. “To see if you could actually be interested in Angus’ errand girl.”

I know she’s trying to rile me up. It works better than it should—it’s a struggle to keep my cool as I say, “Theo’s not an errand girl. She’s an extremely talented chef. Angus is a fool not to let her do her actual job more often.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“You do that.”

We’re staring each other down, the flirtatious vibe Jessica’s trying to manufacture stretched to its breaking point.

“So?” she says.

“So what?”

“So are you coming to my listening party?”

“Sure. With Theo as my date.”

She rolls her eyes. “You can drop the devoted boyfriend act.” She fingers the buttons on the front of my shirt, gazing up at me coquettishly. “A man like you doesn’t tie himself down to one woman—especially not one who spends her time in an apron.”

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