Very Irresistible Playboy: Billionaire Bachelors: Book 1 Page 4

  “Almost everything,” I remind her quickly. She laughs.

  “Exactly. Why don’t I set up a meeting for the two of you?” she suggests. “You can chat it through and make sure you’re comfortable. If you don’t like him, then I’ll find another match. No hard feelings.”

  I waver. It sounds insane, but insane in a weirdly exciting way. Getting to meet the Carlisle’s could be the break my career needs—and this Maximillian would be getting something out of the deal, too. He’s probably one of those trust-fund playboys who refuses to settle down, trying to keep his matchmaking mother off his case. I can smile and call him baby for a week if it means getting my portfolio in front of someone who will actually take the time to look at it—without leaving salad dressing all over the pages.

  “OK, I’m in,” I tell her. “But just for the meeting. He might be a pompous idiot. With halitosis. I’m not making any promises.”

  Carlisle or not, I’m not going to sign up to be the fake girlfriend to a complete jackass.

  Olivia laughs. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  She taps out a message on her phone, and a moment later, looks up. “He’s just finishing up a meeting at the Soho Grand. Are you free to head over there now?”

  I pause a moment, but I’m already in this now.

  “Why not?”

  * * *

  I head over in a cab, courtesy of The Agency, of course. On the way, I wonder if I’m dressed like a prospective fake girlfriend for a billionaire playboy. How does a fake girlfriend even dress? At least I made an effort, knowing I would be meeting the immaculate Olivia. In a navy shift dress, with boots and a little swingy jacket, I hope I look the part.

  Not that I’m the one auditioning here. No, this Maximillian Carlisle is the one who needs to live up to my standards if this arrangement is going to work. And OK, so my standards are basically “don’t be a total jackass,” but you’d be surprised how many men can’t even clear that basic hurdle.

  There’s a reason I’m single right now.

  I sigh. Working for Jack, there wasn’t time for any other man in my life. Dates didn’t take it too well when he called at eleven p.m., needing me to make last-minute travel arrangements, or summoned me into the office on the weekend for a big business deal. I’ve had a few off-again/on-again flings, and casual hookups, because they were the only ones who seemed to last with my grueling schedule. But watching both Jack and my big brother, Oliver, fall head over heels last year, I’ve promised myself that the next guy I date needs to be for real. Someone grounded, and down to earth, who doesn’t play games. Someone ready for a mature relationship. Someone I can depend on.

  Plus, you know, leg-wobblingly sexy, with a sense of humor, and a sharp mind.

  How hard could that be?

  Not that a real boyfriend is on the menu today. This arrangement will be completely pretend—if the client is halfway tolerable.

  I step into the hotel lobby and take the directions to the lounge. It’s the middle of the day, and the seats are pretty much empty, save a cluster of Japanese tourists by the door.

  “Can I help you?” A hostess glides over.

  “Yes, I’m supposed to be meeting Maximillian Carlisle.” It’s a mouthful just saying it. Poor guy, getting saddled with a name like that. I’m surprised there aren’t a bunch of roman numerals tacked on too, just for full preppy measure.

  “He’s waiting for you in the dining room.” The woman looks me over, like she’s surprised. Uh oh. I follow her through, my heart already sinking. I didn’t ask Olivia how old he was. What if he’s barely out of college, and I’m going to look like a gold-digging Mrs. Robinson? Or worse, he could be pushing sixty, and I’m supposed to play arm candy to a wrinkly Hugh Hefner wannabe.

  “Mr. Carlisle? Your guest is here.”

  The hostess deposits me beside the corner table, and the man there rises to his feet, turning at the same time so I can see his face for the first time.

  I freeze.

  The man staring back at me isn’t some college kid—or a wrinkly old man. No, he’s a drop-dead gorgeous hunk of manly hotness. Broad shoulders, smiling blue-gray eyes. And a mouth I know—intimately.

  “Wait a minute,” I say, stunned. “You’re—”

  “Max Carlisle,” says Max, aka the hot guy I made out with at the wedding. “And you must be my new girlfriend.”

  5

  Max

  Despite my reputation, I’m not some love-’em-and-leave-’em lothario. OK, I like to have a little fun, no strings attached. I’ve got places to see, adventures to have . . . But I never make promises I can’t keep—or expect my no-strings fun to get tangled up in my regular life. So the last person I’m expecting to walk in the room is the knock-out photographer from the wedding last week. The one who helped me out of a jam—and kissed me so good I almost went and forgot my own name there for a minute.

  This is my new fake girlfriend who’s going to save me from a week of family judgment and torture?

  Things are looking up.

  “I’m Hallie,” she introduces herself politely, then narrows her eyes at me. “I mean, in case you forgot.”

  Forget her? I had to take a half-hour cold shower to get this woman off my mind. And other places.

  “If you think you could have slipped my mind, you can’t have been very impressed by that kiss,” I say, flashing her my trademark charming smile. “Maybe I should take another shot at it.”

  Hallie just arches an eyebrow. “I heard that’s against the rules,” she says. “Are you breaking them already?”

  “Breaking rules is one of my favorite pastimes.”

  “Along with making out with strange women at weddings?” she shoots back.

  “I don’t think you’re that strange,” I reply, and her lips quirk in an inadvertent smile. Score one for me. “But you have to admit, it seems like a pretty big coincidence, seeing you again. Was the wedding some sort of recon mission, scoping out a prospective client for Olivia? She said the Agency had strict entry criteria, but I didn’t figure on undercover temptresses.”

  “Undercover . . . ?” Hallie echoes, then shakes her head. “What? No! You’re the one who interrupted me, remember?”

  “Oh yeah, the great cupcake heist,” I grin, flashing back to the taste of chocolate frosting on her perfectly sweet lips. Now there’s a party favor I wouldn’t mind taking home for keeps.

  Or at least, a night.

  I try to focus. Which is hard, when those lips are currently pursed in suspicion. “You didn’t mention you knew Olivia.”

  “And you didn’t mention you were trawling for a fake girlfriend,” she replies, with a smile.

  “Touché. Although, I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘trawling.’ ” I take a seat and beckon the waiter over. “Drinks? To celebrate our new . . . arrangement.”

  “I haven’t taken the job yet.” Hallie looks me up and down. “And let’s just say I’ve got plenty of experience with your type of man.”

  I grin. “What—rich, smart, and devastatingly handsome?”

  She counts off her fingers. “You forgot cocky, reckless, and irritatingly fickle.”

  Okay, I like this girl. She can obviously hold her own, which is definitely going to be necessary when dealing with my family. I don’t have time to do a whole bunch of these interviews. Why not take a happy coincidence when it drops in my lap?

  And if I can get her to drop in my lap before the job is done, so much the better.

  “So is your interrogation over?” I ask, ready to get down to business. Once I make a decision, I go all in, and if we’re going to figure out this fake girlfriend deal, time’s a-wasting. “Because you might want to hear the actual details of the job before you decide I’m an irredeemable wastrel.”

  “Wastrel?” Hallie laughs, but she takes a seat. “Note to self, you’re the dramatic kind.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head firmly. “In fact, this whole thing is my attempt to avoid drama.”

>   “What, do you need more help fending off cougars on the prowl?”

  I grimace at the reminder. I’m lucky the mother of the bride didn’t try to tattoo her phone number onto the back of my hand. “No, thank God. It’s last minute, but important. I’m heading to Palm Beach for my grandfather’s 85th birthday this weekend. All my relatives will be there. Which means a nonstop lecture about settling down and starting a family. Unless I already have a devoted girlfriend on my arm.” I grin. “Hello, devoted girlfriend.”

  Hallie snorts. “Given all the stellar qualities you just pointed out to me, you have to have other options. Why not just bat your eyelashes at some girl on the street and take her along when she swoons?”

  “Oh, making the girls swoon is not an issue,” I reply. “But I don’t do long-term relationships, and bringing a real date along to meet the family . . . she might get the wrong idea.”

  “You mean, that you’re a grown adult capable of real relationships?” she says, teasing.

  I clutch my chest. “Oh, she wounds me!”

  “Like I said.” Hallie shakes her head. “Drama.”

  “Look, I’m just trying to keep my life simple,” I tell her honestly. “I’d rather be up front and put all my cards on the table with you than charm some other woman into believing we have a future. Besides, you haven’t met my family. I wouldn’t subject anyone to them without a generous payday.”

  Hallie seems to perk up a little at that, so I lay down my ace. “I’m offering fifty thousand dollars for the week,” I tell her, “plus all expenses covered.”

  This is the part where her eyes go wide and her jaw goes slack before she scrambles to sign on the dotted line.

  Except . . . Hallie’s not scrambling. She tilts her head to the side, looking thoughtful. As if fifty thousand dollars might not be worth it. To spend a week in my company, on my dime.

  I should be offended, except I’m too busy wondering what it would take to change her mind.

  “How soon do you need to have an answer?” she asks. “I’m going to need to think about it.”

  “What’s there to think about?” I ask, confused. “It’s a paid vacation. With excellent company.”

  “It’s a big proposition,” she says. “Upending my life for a whole week. And you are technically a stranger,” she adds.

  A stranger who knows how good it feels to have her curvy body pressed up against me. But I’m guessing reminding her of our heated history won’t go putting her at ease.

  “I’m a teddy bear,” I reassure her. “Eight out of ten women find me irresistible.”

  She laughs. “And the other two?”

  “One was gay, the other preferred her guys hairy.” I shrug. “Can’t win ’em all.”

  She’s smiling now, which is a start. “But what if I fall for your charms and don’t want to let you go?” she asks. “That would totally mess up your plan.”

  She’s definitely making fun of me now. I just smile. “I get the feeling there’s not much chance of that.”

  The waiter is hovering nearby, so I order the most expensive cognac they’ve got. He hurries off and returns a minute later with two glasses. The stuff is almost the same color as Hallie’s hair. I watch as she peers at her glass and then tips it back.

  Now her eyes widen. “Wow,” she says. “This is what I’m talking about. Can I get the whole bottle of that to go?”

  I arch my eyebrows. “Only if you take the job.”

  “Resorting to bribery now, huh?”

  “Hey, I’ve got to use whatever leverage I can. You’re a tough sell.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She raises her glass, and I clink mine against it, and we both drink. Hallie lets out a blissful sigh that makes my mind go to all sorts of places it shouldn’t.

  Like my bedroom.

  “What if I promise I’ll have you making that sound at least five times a day all week?” I propose, not even kidding.

  Hallie just laughs. “Mmm, tempting.” She swirls the glass and drains the last of the cognac. “I will thank you for the drink, though. That was fucking good. Can’t argue with your taste in booze.”

  Then she stands up. Shit. So much for sealing the deal. I pull my business card out, and slide it across the table.

  “Remember, the offer’s only open until tomorrow.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Hallie nods.

  I know I shouldn’t mind either way. I’m sure Olivia has a long list of classy, gorgeous women just waiting to take the gig, but after spending five minutes with Hallie, I know none of them will measure up.

  With her by my side, I might actually have some fun.

  She turns to leave, and I catch her arm. “Think about it,” I say, dropping my voice so only the two of us can hear. “I promise, you’ll have an experience you won’t forget.”

  Hallie blinks, frozen for a moment. She’s close enough to touch, the heat of her body right there beside me, separated by just that clinging blue dress of hers.

  A dress that could be gone in five minutes in a hotel room upstairs, if she just said the word.

  For a moment, I think I see desire flashing in her eyes, then Hallie seems to collect herself. She steps back. “See, that’s the problem, Max,” she says, giving me a saucy smile. “Not all unforgettable experiences are a good thing. Some of them are better known as mistakes.”

  And with that, she sashays away, her hips swinging, leaving me speechless for what might just be the first time in my life.

  6

  Hallie

  By the next morning, Max has left me three messages on my voicemail, each one more charming and tempting than the last.

  “So, to recap,” Jules says. “You have a handsome, rich man offering to whisk you off to Palm Beach for the week, with a fifty grand paycheck to boot? What, exactly, is the problem here?”

  I’ve been asking myself that question since I walked out of the meeting yesterday, but I’m still not any closer to an answer. “I don’t know!” I slump over the counter of the kitchen island where we’re having breakfast. Well, I’m having breakfast, and Jules is inhaling coffee so fast I think she might have learned how to breathe the stuff.

  “It could be amazing, but it could also be a huge mistake. How am I supposed to decide? What would you do, Jules?”

  Jules cocks her head. “I’d make a pro-con list and compare. Always helps me. What are the benefits?”

  “Well . . .” My mind darts back to Max’s irritatingly cocky and yet irresistibly panty-melting smile. “Max is arrogant, but he’s also pretty fun. Spending a week with him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

  Especially if he kisses me again. Everywhere.

  I shake my head. Olivia made it clear he’s not buying that kind of companionship. And I’ve sworn off playboys like him. “I could get to chat up a bunch of people from Carlisle Publishing who might take an interest in my photography. At the very least I’d get a bit of an inside peek at the inner workings there. And, I mean, I wouldn’t do it just for the money, but the money is definitely on the pro list. Fifty thousand dollars . . .” I get a little light-headed just thinking about it. “I could rent a studio space, and buy the most incredible camera setup.”

  “That’s a pretty hefty list,” Jules said. “And the cons?”

  I poke at my half-eaten slice of toast. “Max might turn out to be a complete asshole. And he’s already warned me his family is kind of hard to take.”

  Speaking of things that could be hard to take. In a good way . . .

  Down, girl!

  “The fact he’s so damn sexy could actually be a bad thing,” I add. “I’m not supposed to get personal, remember? Plus I could totally embarrass myself and ruin any chance anyone at Carlisle will ever take me seriously. Also . . . Aren’t we forgetting the point of the whole thing? Playing at being someone’s girlfriend—it’s just, well, weird.”

  “It’s not that different from what you did for Jack, is it?” Jules asks. She downs the rest o
f her coffee and grabs her purse. “I mean, you kept his social life on track, put him in his place when he screwed up, and made sure everything he needed was at his fingertips . . . Playing girlfriend is probably less work!”

  She has a point there.

  “Whatever you decide, don’t let yourself get too worried about what kind of impression you’ll make,” Jules says. “You’re awesome, and you’re not allowed to forget it. This Olivia woman and Max Carlisle obviously think so, too.”

  She heads out, leaving me to mull it over as I finish my breakfast. I replay parts of my meeting with Max. The thrill of our quick back-and-forth conversation. The glint in his eyes when he looked at me.

  The memory of that hard, hot body pressed up against me . . .

  Ahem.

  But aside from everything else, something about Max seems like fun. Spontaneous. Adventurous. The kind of good time I haven’t had since . . . I can’t even remember when. Back when acid-washed denim was in fashion. The first time around.

  Don’t I deserve a little of that fun in my life?

  I’m just cleaning up when my cell phone rings.

  “Ms. Gage?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Andrea in Human Resources, over at Carlisle Publishing. I’m sorry to inform you that we’ve filled the photography assistant position with another candidate. Thank you for taking the time to come in.”

  My heart sinks. Even after that terrible interview, it still hurts to miss out on the opportunity.

  “Can you keep me on file?” I ask hopefully. “In case anything else comes up?”

  Her tone turns slightly snippy. “We post all our openings on the website, so you’ll need to check there for future positions.”

  My heart sinks lower. “I just meant, if something comes up that you think I’d be a good fit for—”

  “Thank you for your time.”

  Click.

  Now what? I take a slow breath, trying to picture the next few months: hustling for job openings, begging Frederico for more wedding work, finding a part-time gig when my savings run out . . .