Page 64 of Worth Every Moment

I can’t let that happen, so I’ve made a list of rules to keep our fake dating on track. He’ll probably think I’m crazy for suggesting them, and instigating them at this late stage is as good as admitting that I’m the liability. I need the rules because I don’t trust myself around him, and if I want to have a friendship with him when this arrangement is over, which I do, then I can't allow the lines between us to get any more blurred.

My body is already confused.

I will not let him break my heart.

My phone buzzes again and I glance at it to see a message from him come in.

I’m downstairs. Ready for our first official date?

My heart flutters. I shouldn’t be feeling like this in response to a text, but the way he kissed me during the photo shoot has been playing on a loop in my head. The feel of his tongue on mine, the scrape of his stubble against my skin… and the agonized look on his face when it was over. When he washard.

Was he, though? He didn’t explicitly confirm it. Maybe I got it wrong. It’s not as though I have much experience in that arena.

Blowing out a quick breath, I hit the call button and he answers instantly.

“Hi,” I say, standing from my seat at the dressing table and brushing down my dress with my free hand. It’s a navy silk evening gown with a scooped back so low it only just covers my bum. It’s pretty special, if I do say so myself. And—bonus—it’s another thing Mum will hate; she picked out a pastel coloured floral dress, all chiffon and reeking of innocence and purity. This dress is, dare I say it, sexy.Provocative. I’m also not wearing any underwear because the fabric wouldn’t allow it.

“Hey.” Seb’s deep voice sends another ripple of desire through me, and going without underwear suddenly feels like a bigger risk than I thought.

I tuck the list of fake dating rules into my purse. “Are you still in your car?”

“No. I’m in the lobby.”

Heat rushes up my neck and I fan myself, glad he can’t see me. “Okay. I’ll be down in a sec. Can you look like you’re pleased to see me, in case anyone’s watching?”

“I’m always pleased to see you.”

A few minutes later, we’re buckled into the back of his car. Before I lose my nerve, I pull the list out of my clutch and pass it to him. It’s lengthy because I wanted to think of everything.

“What’s this?” he says, taking it from me and unfolding the piece of paper.

“I’ve been thinking about our arrangement, and I think we need boundaries.”

He doesn’t lift his gaze from the list, eyes moving back and forth over my script. I try to keep my cool, knowing he’s reading the section entitled ‘Physical Contact’.

All physical contact must be initiated by Miss Lefroy.

Physical contact permitted: Hand-holding, a kiss on the cheek, an arm around the shoulder or waist (no lower). You may take Miss Lefroy’s arm or she may take yours.

You will not pay undue attention to any other women for the duration of this arrangement.

You must at all times appear delighted with Miss Lefroy and take great pleasure in her company. Under no circumstances are you to display annoyance or frustration in public with or directed at Miss Lefroy.

There will be no nudity of any kind, nor will there be any sort of sexual relations between you and Miss Lefroy.

Any deviation from the above is entirely at Miss Lefroy’s discretion and must be discussed in advance.

“You came up with all these yourself?” he asks, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Yes. Can you take it seriously, please? If we don’t outline things properly, we might get confused.”

“Confused?” He leans in, his lips tipping up at the corners. “Confused how?”

His flirtatious tone, paired with the gleam in his eyes, is a blatant flouting of the rules. “Don’t do that. You’re making it sexual.” I sound snippy, but Seb only smiles.

“I’m not. But I don’t date people I don’t want to get sexual with. What would be the point?”

“It’s pretend. We—”