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I adjusted my grip on her elbow so it was softer. “I can’t be your client if I’m married to you.”

“I see,” she breathed. She tucked her lip between her teeth, and the way her small, white teeth indented the delicate skin shot straight to my groin.

Oh. Fuck.I yanked myself out of thoughts about her lips and back to the present. With gentle pressure, I guided her arm so she stepped up the first set of stairs. “You asked what I have to gain, and I’ll be honest. My parents are totally nuts.”

She smiled at that. “Ah.”

“Yeah, and beyond that, we have an awards ceremony we’ll be attending in two weeks.” We headed across a short balcony that angled across where my bedroom window overlooked the street, and then we started down the stairs that led to my garage. “I’m not the only one, either. A lot of my coworkers were hoping to find dates for the occasion because it’s our urgent care center that’s receiving the award. In my case, my parents have been pressuring me to ‘settle down,’ whatever that means. They’ve been pestering me to use Kiss-Met, so I gave in to get them off my back.”

“I guess their ex-daughter-in-law would have been a bad choice for that,” she said with a mixture of mischief and chagrin.

I bit down a smile. “They would have flayed me alive.”

“Sorry,” she said with scrunched-up features. “I know I ran that first time you told me, and I’m sorry for that too. Truly.”

“I see.” I tapped an app on my smartwatch and the garage door opened with a slow, mechanical groan. “I just had to kidnap you to get an apology.”

Ruth laughed, soft and husky. “Nothing comes easy, Dr. Reed. So, in summary, you need a fake date to waylay your parents’ machinations?”

I nodded, stopping behind my SUV in the garage. “And you need a husband. Right?”

“Right,” she said with a suspicious tilt of her heart-shaped face.

“I’ll act like your partner wherever you need me to, and you can be my date once or twice if you’re up for it.”

“Hm.” Ruth went around my SUV to the passenger side. I opened my door, and when she opened hers, she hesitated, not getting in. From across the car, she asked, “Why me?”

Well, there was a loaded question. The obvious answer was that she had been an easy mark. But it wasn’t that simple. Had it been the vulnerability in the bar? Or maybe the realization that Dr. Coldwell was breathtakingly beautiful? I leaned my forearm against the car frame. “Honestly? Because you’re my type. And my parents will love you.”

Her cheeks went cherry blossom pink. “Oh.”

I slid into the seat and pushed the ignition button. “That okay with you?”

“It’s not like I can argue with that,” she muttered, pushing up her glasses in a nervous gesture. She sat down, closed her door, and fastened her seatbelt, all while avoiding looking at me. “Your type,” she added under her breath. Louder, she asked, “What is your type, anyway, Dr. Reed? Desperate?”

I angled a look to the side. “Are you desperate?”

Her fingers drummed on the metal cup, making a tinny beat in the quiet car. “I’m not,” she said. “But I am, what was the word you used?”

“Opportunistic?” I asked, putting the car into reverse.

“Opportunistic,” she agreed with a nod. “And as long as you don’t loathe me for my gaff, we might be able to come to some sort of arrangement.”

“I don’t loathe you,” I replied easily, stretching an arm across the back of her seat and turning to look over my shoulder before backing out. “Actually, I rather like you, Shortstop.”

She stared at my profile. “You like me.” She said it like a fact she didn’t believe.

“I like you,” I repeated, backing down the hill carefully. “You make me laugh. And you clearly can’t handle your liquor, so that has the potential to be hilarious.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, facing forward again. “I can, too. I just got nervous about doing something I’ve never done before.”

“What, speed dating?”

“Yeah.” She took another sip of the electrolyte drink I’d given her.

I shook my head, rotating the wheel and pulling out into the road. “How did you get this job, anyway? Don’t tell me it's your vast experience with relationships,either.”

She breathed out a cynical laugh. “No. Honestly, it was my friend, Gemma. Kiss-Met wanted someone with a doctorate on staff so they could flaunt that, I guess. Gemma knew I was… struggling… after I finished my dissertation and graduated. She kind of wiggled me in. I’ve been there two months.” She twisted the dark, floral fabric on her skirt. “I know I suck at it. Trust me.”