Читать книгу Romance for Cynics - Nicola Marsh - Страница 11

THREE

Lucy spied Cash sitting on the back patio the moment she rounded the side of the house.

He had a stack of manila folders scattered on the table, an open laptop and a mobile phone. But he wasn’t working. Instead, he stared into space, a frown grooving his brows.

Gone was the über-confident air he wore like the finest designer suit. He looked like a guy with mega problems.

She knew the feeling.

Even now, thirty minutes later, she was still reeling from the news of her grandfather’s gambling addiction.

Not once had she suspected he had a problem. He’d worked hard his entire life at the local paper-mill factory, had given her and Gram a secure home, food on the table and the occasional holiday to Sydney.

Hers hadn’t been a Spartan upbringing but they hadn’t been flush with cash either. She wondered later, after her marriage went pear-shaped, if that had been a major attraction with Adrian. Not that she married him for his money. In fact, she hadn’t known the extent of his wealth until they’d been dating a few months and by then she was head over heels. But the money had been a welcome bonus after her frugal family life.

After he’d retired Pops had played lawn bowls, hung out at the pub with his mates to watch the horse racing on a Saturday arvo and gone into town weekly for lunch with his poker club.

Now, those outings took on a whole new meaning. Rather than having a beer with his cronies, he’d probably been gambling heavily, losing his hard-earned savings, then borrowing on the house he’d paid off years earlier.

Poor Gram. Lucy admired her resilience. And her pride. She didn’t blame Gram for not wanting to move in with her. The small outer-city weatherboard house she’d bought after the divorce was cosy on a good day. She loved its quaintness and what the house lacked in size, the garden more than made up for.

It had been the major attraction when she’d been house hunting and she’d fallen in love with the English cottage garden gone wild and the massive veggie patch.

The house could’ve been a shack for all she cared once she’d seen the garden but, thankfully, the Californian-bungalow-styled house was perfect for her needs.

Having Gram sell her house and move in had seemed like the only option at the time when she’d heard of her grandfather’s treachery.

But there was another solution to Gram’s financial woes and Lucy was looking straight at him.

She bounded up the steps, intent on being friendlier. Because if Cash had found a replacement fake girlfriend in the last half-hour, she was screwed.

‘Sorry to interrupt, but do you have a minute?’

He glanced at her hands and raised an eyebrow. ‘No unspoken castration threats via gardening tools this time?’

‘My idea of a joke,’ she said, sitting in the wrought-iron chair opposite without waiting to be asked. ‘Probably a touch of sunstroke. Gardeners’ occupational hazard.’

The corners of his mouth eased into a smile that slugged her to the gut. ‘But it’s cloudy today.’

She smiled at him in return. ‘Can’t you give a girl a break?’

‘I will if you do that more often.’ He leaned forward and traced her mouth, his fingertip doing crazy things to her insides.

Considering they had to fake it for the next week, her reaction to the charmer? Not good.

She leaned back, out of touching reach. ‘Trust me, I’ll be all smiles if I’m your girlfriend for the week.’

His eyebrows shot up so fast she laughed.

‘Yeah, I changed my mind.’ She held up a finger. ‘With one stipulation. Your garden quote increases to fifty grand.’

His eyes narrowed in speculation. ‘For that price I could hire every PR firm on the eastern seaboard to make me look good.’

‘Yeah, but you wouldn’t have an amazing garden at the end of it or have me on your arm playing the devoted girlfriend doing whatever I’m supposed to be doing.’

She made it sound like an offer too good to refuse when in fact she’d be getting a lot more out of this bizarre arrangement than him.

Payment for the garden refurbishment would clear Gram’s debt and keep her cottage safe, while the huge boost to her profile in the landscaping business would ensure other wealthy clients would hire her. And that in turn would enable her to set up a healthy nest egg so Gram could see out her days in peace.

Gram deserved that safety net, after raising her.

He continued to study her, coolly assessing. ‘What made you change your mind?’

‘Would you believe a woman’s prerogative?’

‘No.’

‘I need the money.’ A half-truth that would have to suffice. She didn’t know Cash Burgess—had no intention of getting to know him. Theirs was a mutually beneficial business arrangement. End of story.

The fact she was a teensy-weensy bit attracted to him? Irrelevant. Besides, she had little doubt that spending a week in his obnoxiously superior company would cure her of that.

After what felt like an eternity, where he seemed to study every freckle on her nose, he nodded. ‘You pose as my girlfriend for a week. Attend a few PR functions. Boost my profile. No romantic entanglement whatsoever. And I’ll pay you fifty grand to remodel my garden. Deal?’

He held out his hand and she shook it. ‘Deal.’

But rather than let go of her hand, Cash held it firmly, tugged hard, and pulled her half across the table to meet his lips.

This was so not part of the plan.

* * *

Damn. Cash had wanted to rattle Lucy’s customary cool exterior. Had wanted to see if he could get a reaction out of her other than a smart-ass comeback.

The impulsive kiss had been about making a dent in her impenetrable armour.

It hadn’t been about making him want more, to the point where he could easily have devoured her.

He’d expected a rough shove away and a resounding slap. He hadn’t expected her lips to soften, to mould, to cling.

And then she made a sound, a soft, seductive sigh that shot straight to his groin.

He wrenched his mouth from hers and stared in fascination at the woman who would be his girlfriend for a week.

Looked like faking it for the cameras with Lucy wouldn’t be such a hardship after all.

‘What was that all about?’ She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, as if she couldn’t stand the thought of boy cooties.

‘Seeing if we’d be compatible.’

She didn’t like his smug, trite answer, her big brown eyes sparking caramel fire. ‘Don’t you dare do that again—’

‘Can’t promise that, considering we’ll be hamming up the romance in front of the cameras.’

‘Cameras?’

His grin widened. ‘The firm who’s doing me a favour, GR8 4U Public Relations, are filming the couples involved, posting snippets on the firm’s website for voting, and the most voted couple raises the most funds for charity.’

‘We’re being filmed?’ Horror darkened her eyes as she waved her hand between them. ‘So you and I will need to...I mean, we’ll have to act all lovey-dovey...bloody hell.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not expecting to win the thing. Just being in the competition is going to provide all the positive publicity I need to stave off any damage that woman can possibly inflict.’

She cocked her head to one side, studying him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Anything for my girlfriend.’

With an exasperated sigh, she ignored his wink. ‘What if people don’t buy our charade? Will you screw me over?’

After that surprisingly sizzling kiss, Cash wished Lucy wouldn’t allude to him screwing her over anything.

He shook his head. ‘Whatever the result of the Valentine’s Day competition, you’ll get your chance to tackle this garden and get your money.’

Her nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled something nasty. ‘Valentine’s Day?’

He could understand her dislike for the ridiculous day that made flower vendors a lot of money and idiots out of any self-respecting guy. ‘We attend a week of romantic functions in the lead-up to Valentine’s Day, where the winner is announced at a formal ball.’

‘This just gets better and better,’ she muttered, frown lines appearing between her brows. ‘Valentine’s Day blows.’

Damn. Cash would have to add blow alongside screwed as words Lucy should never utter around him.

‘Couldn’t agree more. Valentine’s Day is overcommercialised crap for schmucks, but it’s what we’ll sign up for.’

‘Just shoot me now,’ she said, looking so woeful he couldn’t help but smile.

‘Don’t all women dream of hearts and flowers and verbose declarations of love skywritten in fireworks until death us do part?’

She stiffened and squared her shoulders. ‘Not this one.’

‘Go on, admit it. You want a happily ever after as much as the next girl.’ She had such an untouchable quality, he couldn’t resist teasing her.

But he wasn’t expecting to see genuine hurt in her expressive eyes. Hurt he didn’t want to be responsible for.

‘Hey, I was kidding...’ He reached out to touch her hand and she snatched it away.

‘Forget it.’ She stood so abruptly the chair scraped loudly against the patio tiles. ‘I’ll start drawing up plans for the garden and get an itemised quote to you by the weekend.’

‘Sure.’ He should be rapt she’d agreed to his outlandish suggestion to pose as his girlfriend. So why the guilty niggle that he’d pushed her into doing something she’d rather not? ‘We’ll need to meet to go over our dating story, to strategise, stuff like that. How about dinner tomorrow?’

He deliberately chose a date-like rendezvous, to see if she lightened up enough to pull off this charade. Because the last thing he needed was for people to realise they weren’t really a couple and he was doing this for the PR.

‘Dinner?’ She made it sound as if he’d invited her to leap into the Yarra River naked on a frigid winter’s day.

‘That’s what couples do,’ he said, his emphasis not lost when acceptance downturned her mouth.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ She visibly brightened. ‘But I get to choose the place.’

Was it a power thing? Did Lucy need to feel in control and that was what her funk was about? Fine. Frankly, he didn’t care where they ate as long as they put in a good show for the competition and he didn’t lose his clients and his business.

‘Not a problem. Text me the details.’

‘Done.’

She waved and almost ran down the steps in her haste to escape. How they were going to pull off togetherness for the cameras he’d never know.

As he gathered papers and flipped his laptop shut she called out, ‘Cash?’

He glanced up, surprised by the mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘Yeah?’

‘Tomorrow night? Hope you like it spicy.’

With a jaunty half-salute she was gone, leaving him confused by her hot and cold act and looking forward to tomorrow night more than was good for him.

* * *

That evening, Lucy picked up a half-garlic, half-ham-and-pineapple pizza on the way to supper with Gram. She hoped their favourite comfort food would do just that: provide comfort when she told Gram how she was obtaining the money to save her house.

Gram wouldn’t be impressed. The last of the great romantics, Gram believed everyone deserved a lifetime of love. It had taken her six months after the initial separation to stop asking Lucy if there was any chance of reconciliation with Adrian; and the only reason she’d ceased badgering was because Lucy had finally told her the truth. That Adrian was a serial philanderer with a penchant for spending his considerable wealth buying the affection of women other than his wife.

Gram had never mentioned his name again, which suited Lucy just fine. For while the hurt had faded following the discovery of Adrian’s indiscretions, the shame hadn’t. She’d been seduced by his world, had fallen for the glitz and glamour his wealth provided as much as she’d fallen for him. The designer clothes, the flashy car, the whirlwind of parties. She’d loved it all.

Their marriage had seemed effortless, almost too good to be true. Which figured, considering that it was.

So it wasn’t any great surprise she’d shut herself off from that world when it fell apart. She’d sold off her designer gear, ditched the fancy haircuts and make-up, and found solace in gardening.

She liked dirt trickling through her fingers. She liked the solitude. She liked the small of damp earth and freshly cut grass. There was an inherent honesty in being so close with nature, a comfort she hadn’t found elsewhere.

Gram had understood, had fostered her love for the outdoors and Adrian soon became a distant memory. But Gram’s romantic nature couldn’t be suppressed and she occasionally probed for news of Lucy’s dates, or ‘possibilities’ as Gram liked to call her infrequent forays into dinner or a movie.

The truth was, Lucy didn’t socialise much. She dated occasionally, laid-back guys she’d met at the mulch supplier or tool shop. Blue-collar guys the exact opposite of Adrian.

But she hadn’t felt a buzz in a long time...until today, when Cash had kissed her.

Not good.

She’d done her best to rationalise her reaction for the rest of the day, attributing the spark she’d felt as dormant hormones getting a kick-start.

While that might be true, it didn’t explain the insane yearning to do it again. To see if it had been a fluke, a one-off. To see if he could make her whole body come alive for the first time in for ever.

Cursing under her breath, she let herself into Gram’s cottage through the back door and dumped the pizza on the counter.

‘Hope you’re hungry, Gram,’ she called out, dishing the pizza.

‘Starving. Be there in a sec,’ Gram called out from the bedroom.

Good. A few seconds gave Lucy time to mentally rehearse her spiel. Delivery was key if Gram was to accept her crazy scheme.

‘All done.’ Gram shuffled into the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. ‘No more surprises.’

Curious, Lucy placed their plates at the table and returned to the sink to fill two glasses with water. ‘What were you up to?’

‘Going through your grandfather’s files. Making sure there were no more nasty debts ready to pop up and make our life hell.’

Lucy nodded, saddened by the secrets Pops must’ve kept from those he loved. ‘Good idea.’

Gram sat at the table and licked her lips. ‘Okay. This is your second visit in one day and you bring pizza. What’s going on?’

Lucy slipped an arm around Gram’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘Never could fool you.’

Gram’s eyes twinkled as Lucy took a seat. ‘My girl, you forget that I was your age, once—and I tried every trick in the book.’

‘I’m not sure you will have tried my latest trick, Gram.’ Lucy toyed with the cheese oozing over the crust of her pizza. ‘You know that plan I mentioned to secure the fifty grand? It’s all set.’

Gram’s mouth dropped open before it closed with an audible snap. ‘I hoped...I mean, I thought you were dreaming...how—?’

‘One of my clients wants a complete redesign of his garden. The quote is about fifty thousand.’

Gram’s eyes widened in horror. ‘I can’t take that much of your hard-earned money off you. It wouldn’t be right.’

Lucy should have known this wouldn’t be easy. ‘Gram, you raised me. I owe you everything and this is the least I can do to repay you.’

‘Family don’t need repaying.’ Her lips set in a mutinous line. ‘I won’t take it.’

‘So you’d rather move out? Live in a one-room rented bedsit somewhere?’

Gram glanced away but not before Lucy had glimpsed fear. ‘If that’s what it takes. Your grandfather caused this problem, not you, and I won’t have you paying for his sins.’

Lucy admired Gram’s pride. In fact, she empathised. She hadn’t wanted anything to do with Adrian once she’d discovered his lies and pride had prevented her from taking the generous settlement he’d offered.

Pops had called her foolish at the time but Gram had been quick to silence him, telling him to mind his own business. No, she couldn’t fault Gram for not wanting to take such a hefty sum of money. But it meant Lucy would have to embellish her offer to make it more appealing: namely, appeal to Gram’s romantic side.

‘That garden I’m doing? It’s in exchange for accompanying the client to a few functions.’

Predictably, Gram perked up and lost her stubborn pout. ‘What functions? And who’s this client?’

‘Cashel Burgess.’

A small dent appeared between Gram’s brows. ‘Why does his name sound familiar?’

‘He’s in the papers a fair bit.’ Understatement, considering the number of times his handsome face graced the society pages. The way he put it, his socialising was purely work, but she wondered how many times he’d blurred the lines between personal and professional with his clients.

Not that it was any of her business, but the thought of his many dalliances made her stomach churn and she nudged away the plate of pizza.

‘He’s a financial advisor to the stars.’

Gram fixed her with a steely glare. ‘Doesn’t sound like your type.’

‘He’s not, but he’s a nice enough guy, he asked for my help and I agreed.’

‘On the proviso you get fifty thousand dollars for making over his garden.’ Gram shook her head. ‘What am I missing here? Sounds to me like the guy’s desperate or crazy or both, offering to pay you to attend a few functions.’

Lucy should’ve known Gram wouldn’t give up easily. The last thing she needed was Gram getting ideas about her fake relationship with Cash, but looked as if she’d have to tell her the rest.

‘He’s not desperate.’ Lucy slid her electronic tablet out of her bag and plugged Cash’s name into a search engine. ‘Take a look at the guy.’

She flipped the screen towards Gram, who clutched at her heart. ‘Oh my Lordy, the man’s swoon-worthy.’

Lucy laughed. Not many men made Gram’s swoon-worthy cut. Over the years, the limited list included Frank Sinatra, Rock Hudson, Elvis and more recently George Clooney. High praise indeed for her pretend boyfriend.

‘He looks like that handsome young man in The Notebook.’ Gram stared at her with renewed interest. ‘Not every day my granddaughter gets to parade around with a Ryan Gosling lookalike.’

Lucy stared at the picture of Cash on the screen, tilting her head to one side, and had to admit Gram was right.

Ryan was excessively cute and they’d both cried buckets during that movie. Five times.

Great, now every time she had to look at Cash she’d be imagining Ryan and those sexy scenes...best not go there.

‘You know, maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.’ Gram’s gaze strayed from the screen long enough for Lucy to see that familiar calculated, matchmaking gleam. ‘Going out with a young man of that calibre can only be good.’

‘This is a business arrangement, Gram, nothing more.’

Predictably, Gram ignored her warning tone and continued. ‘I know there’s a lot more to this than you’re telling me, missie, but you’ve got a good heart and a smart head on your shoulders. I trust your judgement.’

‘Does this mean you’ll take the money?’

‘We’ll see,’ Gram muttered, her brusqueness tempered by a warm smile, and Lucy took it as a win. ‘Now, let’s eat.’

Lucy was only too happy to comply, but as she bit into the gooey cheese she wondered how smart her judgement had been when she’d let Cash kiss her earlier that day.

And enjoyed it.