He, of course, was as devilishly hot as always.

Benjamin—not the waiter.

He wore a black suit, a light blue shirt, and a gray-and-blue striped tie. He seemed to like stripes—probably because they were even and never out of place. His jacket hugged his body perfectly, since it had clearly been custom made for him. Guys like him didn’t buy off the rack. That would never change. He came across as every inch the gentleman accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle…

While she felt like a little kid playing dress up, hoping her mother wouldn’t come in and catch her wearing her favorite pearls before she could put them back where they belonged. And that was something that would never change, either.

Their two worlds just didn’t make sense when put together.

The waiter bowed and left without even speaking to Maggie, or leaving a menu behind for them to read. She glanced down at her salad. It had blue cheese dressing on it.

Moldy cheese.Yum.

She pushed it away and set her hands back in her lap, linking her fingers together. “When will they bring the menus?”

“I already ordered us both their finest,” he answered dismissively, looking devishly handsome as he picked up his fork. How the man managed to make a freaking fork look sexy? She had no idea. But he did. “They’ll bring the courses in when we’re ready for them.”

Oh. My. God. He really had this whole thing down pat.

“Excellent,” she said drily. “Can’t wait to see what I’m eating tonight.”

He set his fork down and sighed again. “You’re displeased.”

“No. It’s just that this isn’t going exactly how I expected it would.” She smiled and downed the last of her wine. “More wine, please?”

He poured her more and lifted a finger. A waiter brought another bottle within seconds. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the man for an appletini instead, but he left as quickly as he came, yet again without even glancing at her. She rolled her eyes at the slight, picked up her wine, and drank some more. It would go straight to her head on her empty stomach, but she was past the point of caring.

At this point, she’d do anything to get through this evening without telling her boss that he sucked at first dates. Because he did. Horribly.

Too bad he didn’t suck at kissing, too.

It would make resisting him so much easier.

Her stomach growled angrily, so she picked up a piece of bread and took a bite. That, at least, was delicious. “Mm. Good bread,” she said, holding it up to Mr. Gale—Benjamin. “You should try some. Don’t worry, I won’t throw it at you this time.”

He ate a bite of salad and watched her. Once he swallowed, he patted at his mouth with the linen napkin. “What’s going on?”

Besides the fact that this was the most awkward date she’d ever been on? “Nothing.” She picked up her glass of wine and took another sip, fighting back the cringe that tried to creep out. “I already told you that.”

He leaned back, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and let his hands cross in front of him. They fell silent. He sat there looking sexy, and she pushed her salad around on the plate. Sighing, he picked up that darn fork again and ate a few bites. After a while, though, he must’ve realized she hadn’t actually eaten any of hers.

Frowning, he studied her with an intensity that sent goose bumps crawling over her skin. “You might think you’re good at pretending you’re all right, but I can read you like an open book, so I see you’re not happy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care?” she asked softly. “What’s it matter to you?”

“I didn’t exactly say I did care,” he replied, cocking his head. “I just said I could see it. But regardless of what you seem to think, I want you to enjoy yourself. I’m not that cruel.”

Her heart thumped. “I am. Like I said, I’m fine.”

“Good. In that case…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright blue box. “I picked this up today.”

She froze, and her stomach dropped to the floor with dread. She would have been more at ease if he’d slid a pair of padded handcuffs across the table. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a ring.” He frowned and pushed the box closer to her. “If that’s what you think it is, then, yes, you’re correct.”

Oh, God. She recognized the Tiffany & Co. box all too well. Every girl in America was fully aware what that bright blue color meant. But if he’d gone to Tiffany’s, he’d spent a fortune on a fake fiancée, and she’d punch him in his stupid, perfect face.

And he’d deserve it.

She couldn’t wear something like that on her finger. It probably cost more than she made in a year—or two. With her luck, she’d end up losing it and owing him a buttload of money when this was all said and done. And she couldn’t afford that. So she rested her fingers on top of his, and pushed it right back to him, ignoring the way his skin felt against hers. “A fake engagement doesn’t qualify for a real ring. Take it back.”

“Actually…” He pushed the box closer to her again, his hand still under hers. “It does. My mother will notice if you’re wearing a fake rock.”

“You can’t tell.”

He cocked a brow and didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

“Oh, fine. Maybe she can.” Maggie grabbed the box and flipped it open without looking at it, her heart racing. “But that doesn’t mean I need a gaudy, huge—” The second she glanced down, the words died in her throat. The ring was gorgeous.

Of freaking course.

It wasn’t obnoxious or gaudy at all. As a matter of fact, it was exactly what she’d want, if this engagement thing were for real. A simple princess cut diamond rested in the middle of a thin platinum band. It was huge, yes, but it was set elegantly, so it didn’t look like too much. She swallowed and ran a hand across the stone.

“You were saying?” he asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

She didn’t respond. Truth be told, she didn’t think she was capable. He scooted out of his chair and took the box from her hand. She let him. He removed the ring and grabbed her left hand. “I wasn’t sure about your size, so I made an educated guess with the help of the salesperson.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Your height and approximate weight.” His lips twitched into an almost smile. “Don’t ask me to tell you what I told her. I know a trap when I see one.”

She laughed, but cut it off quickly when he slid the ring into place. It was a little loose, but not uncomfortably so. His calloused fingertips scraped the back of her finger, and she swallowed hard. “You must’ve done pretty well. It fits.”

“Good.” He curled her hand into a fist and stared down at it. He kept touching her and making her body react to him in ways it shouldn’t, but that wasn’t what made her breath catch in her throat. For a second, as he stared at her, he looked almost…reverent. As if the sight of his ring on a woman’s hand affected him in some way.

It affects me.

“It looks good on you.”

She glanced down, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. He was right. It did. “Thanks. I…I love it. But I’ll give it back after this is over.”

“Keep it. Sell it. Whatever.”

He dropped his hold on her and sat back in his chair. He looked about as moved as a sack of potatoes, so she must’ve imagined the earlier moment they’d shared.

She slid her hand into her lap and stole one more glance at it. “No way. It had to have cost a fortune.”

“To be honest, I have no clue. I just handed her my card.”

“You just handed her—” She spluttered, cutting herself off. He wouldn’t understand why him dropping a small fortune on a ring for his fake fiancée, without even caring about the cost, was such a shock to her. “I mean…I see.”

He rubbed his jaw, staring at her closely. “You’re disappointed again.”