Before it deteriorated and the asshole appeared.
“Can I—?” She blinked out of her woolgathering, saw that Jaime was gesturing at her hand, asking to hold it.
Her ovaries were already dead and gone from one bowtie wearing guinea pig and kind brown eyes, and now her heart spasmed.
Fuck, he was nice.
She nodded, and he laced his fingers with hers. Such a simple touch, but it still took her breath away. His hand engulfed hers, the sensation from the roughness of his palm rubbing against the softness of hers. It raised the hairs on her arm, made heat drift down her spine, slid in—
“Your fingers are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his other hand around hers and bringing it up to his mouth, blowing warm air over her skin.
She shivered.
“That’s not all that’s cold,” he said, dropping her hand and shrugging out of his jacket. He dropped it over her shoulders, covering the thin wrap she’d donned but that didn’t do much to protect her from the cool evening air. “As much as I hate to cover up that pretty dress,” he whispered in her ear, “I can’t have you turning into a popsicle.” Then slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her against his side.
Being there, pressed against the hard of his muscles, the spicy male scent surrounding her, his arm a hot brand around her middle, meant it took a few moments for her to whisper, “I wasn’t actually cold. I just like the way your hand feels against mine.”
A soft admission. One she almost couldn’t believe she’d spoken aloud.
But then again, nothing about this entire scenario was believable.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Are you too hot now?”
She shook her head.
“Then it’s win-win for both of us.”
Smiling, she snuggled closer, and when he asked if she wanted to walk down to the waterfront, she agreed even though her feet were killing her. “Why does it feel like I’ve known you for more than one date?” she blurted.
His fingers tightened on her waist. “Because we’re fake engaged?”
Kate snorted. “Somehow I doubt that’s it.”
“Because you’re really into me?” he teased.
“I’m really into your Instagram profile, that’s for sure,” she teased back. “All of those animals.” A shrug. “And I guess that fact that you’re in them too is fine.”
He tickled her lightly. “I feel the same.”
She tapped her chin, teasing aside, it was a legitimate thought. She never felt this comfortable with men after just a few hours. There was just something about Jaime that made her feel like she’d arrived home. “Maybe it’s because we’re both part of big families?”
“Big, nosy families?”
“Yeah, that, too. Wait. Come this way,” she said, pointing to a walkway when he was going to miss the best part of this area. After they’d rounded the building and slid into a little alcove that overlooked the perches where the sea lions liked to rest during the day, but for now was beautifully illuminated by the bright moon overhead, she said, “Well, either way, I’m just really thankful that you agreed to my scheme. I know it’s wrong to lie to my parents, but I just want . . .”
Ick. It made her sound like a total wimp to admit that she didn’t want to disappoint them. But . . . it was the truth. She’d disappointed them far too often in her life.
“When your family is close, it’s hard to feel like you’re not meeting their expectations.”
A sigh. “Yeah. That.”
And also, maybe that was the fact that this man had led her over to a bench and was cuddling her close.
Because that was incredible.
Big body. Warm hands. Intoxicating smell. Gentle words. Soft hold.
Jaime was a cornucopia of her fantasies come to life.
“What else should a fake fiancé know about his woman?” he asked when they sat in quiet for a couple of minutes.
Kate thought for a few seconds. “Her favorite color is purple. She likes sunflowers and loves Hermione Granger. She can’t stand tomatoes but loves all things marinara and ketchup.” She nudged his shoulder. “How about you? What should I know about my fake significant other? Besides his amazing blackmail abilities and his abuse of my roll.”
A grin that hit her right in the gut, his voice close to her ear and making her shiver all over again. “Well, his favorite color is red. He’s partial to dogs over cats and will eat anything as long as he can drown it in ketchup.”
She fist-pumped. “Ketchup buddies.”
“I can see it now,” he said, spreading the hand that wasn’t resting on her waist wide as though he were a director painting the scene for his actors. And maybe he was, for all that she’d had fun the last few hours, the crux of what was between them was just acting. “We fell in love at first sight when we both reached for the same ketchup bottle at the diner.”
“Our hands touched.” She reached out, squeezed his fingers, forced herself to keep her tone light. “And sparks flew.”
His voice dropped, a silken thread sliding across the back of her neck. “And that was it for me,” he murmured, tugging her closer and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I somehow convinced you to give me your number. The rest is history.”
A blip of disappointment slid through her. Not because she didn’t like the story, but because she liked it too much.
“Exactly,” she said, straightening, sliding from his hold, and pushing to her feet. “But we should get going. I have to work at least half a day tomorrow.”
“About that,” he said. “What time is dinner? Should I pick you up so we can drive together?”
She nodded. “Yes. That sounds good. Dinner is at seven-thirty, but we should try to be there by about six-thirty. Want to pick me up at my place? It’s only a half hour drive, even with Friday traffic.”
“I can do that.” He pushed to his feet, reached for her hand. “I’ll be there at six and we can drive over.”
“You sure?” Kate asked. “Last chance to run screaming for the hills.”
“I’m sure.”
“You don’t have any temperamental cats on the schedule?”
He grinned and she melted from the inside out, letting him tug her to her feet, reveling in the feel of his warm, rough palm against hers. This might all be pretend, but there was one thing that wasn’t fake—the way her body responded. She enjoyed the contact, felt comfortable with him touching her. Okay, so more than comfortable. She freaking loved it, wanted to strip off his clothes and see if his abs were as good as his pictures, wanted to feel the strands of his hair brushing across her stomach as he kissed his way down.
A shiver, even with his coat.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”
Not about to confess why she’d shivered this time, Kate leaned close when he wrapped his arm around her waist, walked beside him as they made their way back to her car. “So, no cats?” she asked, after he’d inquired about where she was parked, and had turned them in the direction of it with the confidence of someone who’d lived in the city for a long time.
“Maybe one or two,” he said, tracing. “But I definitely have a temperamental chicken.”