“If we’re done with all that, can we eat? I’m starving. You can tell me all I need to know about your family and also tell me how it was we met and when you proposed, but not until I get something to eat.”
He leaned forward, caught her jaw in his hand and turned her toward him. Their lips were so close that his breath blew warm over her mouth. She swallowed nervously, wondering if he would kiss her. And then she wondered if she’d let him. Or if she would kiss him instead.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
Slowly, he withdrew, and to her chagrin, disappointment washed over her.
Seven
Evan watched as Celia sat sideways on the couch, her back against the arm and her knees doubled in front of her. She looked comfortable and completely relaxed, which was more than he could have hoped for given how stupidly he’d sprung the whole engagement thing on her.
After her initial fury, though, she’d calmed down and had taken it well. Damn, but he liked this woman.
Oh, he was definitely attracted to her sexually, but beyond that, he genuinely liked spending time with her.
If he was smart, he’d take that as a huge warning sign to stay away and not become involved, but he’d never claimed brilliance.
She’d changed into nothing more glamorous than a pair of sweatpants and a San Francisco Tide jersey.
Odd, but she hadn’t struck him as a baseball fan.
Her shoes had long since been shed, and her toenails, painted a delicate shade of pink, teased him. Hell,
he was even attracted to her feet. Small and dainty.
He was officially losing his mind. Never before had he lusted after a woman’s feet.
She forked another bite into her mouth then sighed and made a low sound of agony before putting her plate down on the coffee table.
“That was fabulous. I’ve eaten so much that I won’t fit into that sparkly dress I brought for the wedding.”
That statement brought a whole host of splendid ideas to mind. Namely that they could both skip the wedding and stay in bed where clothing was entirely optional.
He shifted in his seat and wondered for the sixth time why he was so bent on torturing himself.
“So tell me something, Evan,” she said as she leaned farther into the sofa cushions. Her eyelids lowered and she tucked those pink toes underneath a throw pillow. “What made you walk away from your family’s business and start your own in a field that was so different from the jewelry trade?”
It didn’t surprise him that she knew so much about his background. She would have researched him tirelessly. Still, he debated how much to tell her.
Their gazes locked, and he saw only simple curiosity. No ulterior motive, just interest.
“There were several reasons,” he finally said. “Emotion has no place in business and yet I find myself making emotional decisions.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised you’d admit that. Doesn’t jive with your big, bad, ruthless businessman persona.”
He smiled ruefully. “Okay, so part of it was emotion based. I didn’t agree with my father’s style of management. The fact is his company is in trouble. I saw it coming years ago and he was in flat denial. He saw no reason to change the way he ran things since it had worked for decades before.
“The other reason was I don’t exactly get along that well with him and Mitchell.”
“You don’t say,” she said drily.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know, hard to believe. Mitchell…there are lots of more appropriate words for him, but I’ll go with the fact that he’s a lazy, unmotivated brown noser. All his life, because he was the baby, he’s never had to actually work for anything. He’s been handed everything since he was a child.
As a result, his sense of entitlement is huge. I would work for something and he would want what I had worked for. Dad would give it to him.”
“Ah, I think I’m beginning to understand the fiancée thing more now.”
He nodded. “Yes, I don’t harbor any illusion that Mitchell and Bettina are some great love match. I had Bettina, so Mitchell decided he wanted her. Bettina saw Mitchell’s appointment to CEO as her ride into a life of glamour.”
“And were you and Bettina? A love match, I mean?” she asked gently.
He pursed his lips and blew out a long breath. “This is where I look like the jerk.”
Celia chuckled. “Jerk? You? Surely you jest.”
“All right, don’t rub it in,” he grumbled. “I’ve admitted my shortcomings.”
“Do continue. I’m dying to hear all about what a toad you are.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement. He’d never wanted to kiss her more than he did right now. Instead he found himself telling her stuff he’d never tell a woman he planned to take to bed.
“Bettina didn’t pose a challenge. That sounds bad but when I met her, I was devoting all my time to making my business a success. It was exciting and exhilarating. I exceeded even my wildest expectations.
Everything was falling into place at the speed of light. All that was missing in my mind to complete the image of perfection I had built up was a wife and a family. Perfect house in the suburbs. I’d come home after a hectic day and she’d have dinner waiting. The kids would all be bathed and well behaved. Even the dog would be the epitome of good behavior. I wanted—still want—a woman who’ll put me first.”
Celia snorted, covered her mouth and then dissolved into hoots of laughter.
He regarded her dubiously. “I do believe you’re mocking me.”
“Mocking you?” She wheezed between words and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Oh my, Evan. You do dream big, don’t you?”
“Well, it was a good fantasy while it lasted,” he grumbled. “I looked around and there was Bettina. I didn’t have time to figure out what my ideal woman was. I wanted my perfect life then and I didn’t want to wait. So I asked her to marry me, she said yes, I gave her a ring and that was that.”
“And yet here you are. With me. The fake fiancée.”
He scowled ferociously at her only for her to dissolve into laughter again.
“Okay, so what happened? Other than Mitchell stepping in and being an overindulged twit.”
He liked this woman. She was good for his ego even when she was tearing it down.
“Bettina wanted to set an immediate date. She had a grand wedding planned. Even had the honeymoon destination picked out. She littered my office with brochures. Hell, she even had our children’s names picked out.”