“She still cheated on you.” Des shook his head and clapped a hand down on his shoulder. “That’s low.”

“Thanks.”

“I never knew what to say when it happened, and I thought bringing it up would make it worse.”

Paul speared the last piece of his dessert with a fork and popped it into his mouth. “But now that you’re all partnered up you can talk about girly shit like that.”

His brother smirked. “You’re partnered up, too, it won’t be long before you have to give your opinion on flowers and champagne and colors. Honestly, I don’t know how girls manage to look at three pink things and think they’re all different. Salmon, my ass. It’s bloody pink.”

“They should come with an instruction manual.” Paul looked back over to where the girls sat.

Libby threw her head back, laughing at something his mother had said. The tinkling sound sent a shiver through him. At that moment she looked up, her eyes connecting with his. Color spread through her cheeks and her neck, reminding him of how hot she’d felt underneath his hands.

She’d kissed like she meant it. He didn’t believe for a second that she was that good an actress. He certainly hadn’t been acting. The moment her little hands grabbed his T-shirt and she’d thrust her hips up against him he’d gone hard as stone.

Just business. Yeah right.

He was going to convince Libby that her “no sex” rule was pointless. He had absolutely no trouble separating sex from emotion. And if they had to play the part, why not use the real chemistry that already existed between them? It made sense, they’d fool everyone completely. No one would ever suspect it was all for show.

Chapter Six

Libby stared at the calendar on her wall, neat squares with tidy little Xs in green ink. She’d accumulated seven since her visit to Paul’s family dinner. Since she’d set in motion plans to get Libby Gal Cocktails into First. Since she’d kissed Paul.

A whole week and the memory of his lips on hers pulsed within her as though it had happened moments ago.

Distraction plagued her like a dark cloud hovering overhead. Thinking about that kiss, being annoyed and forcing herself to think about something else, then thinking about the kiss again.

Nothing dulled the memory, not sleep deprivation from her vivid dreams nor the fact that no other restaurants seemed keen to take her on.

“You’re acting like a silly school girl,” she said to herself as she paused in front of the ornate mirror in her hallway. “It was just a kiss.”

But oh, what a kiss it had been. The kind of toe-curling, sigh-inducing, heart-rate-spiking kiss you saw in movies. Paul had a kissing mastery like none she’d experienced before.

“That means he’s kissed a lot of girls,” she said to her reflection, frowning. “Don’t go thinking you’re special.”

Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the open blinds in her office, causing rainbows to dance in the antique crystal perfume bottles that decorated her bookshelf. She hefted a box of custom stationery that had arrived in the mail that morning. Pink envelopes, matching “with compliments” slips, and swing tags that would never see the light of day if she didn’t convince Des to take on her product.

She’d stopped by the restaurant once this week to have coffee with Nina, hoping to catch either Paul or Des. But they’d been out, apparently organizing something for the wedding.

Libby set the box down next to the bookshelf and pulled her phone out of her pocket. No missed calls, no texts. No communication whatsoever from Paul.

It would be okay to call him, wouldn’t it? The kiss wasn’t real and therefore the rules of dating didn’t apply…did they? She shoved the phone back into the pocket of her white sundress.

It was just a kiss, get out of your own head! It didn’t mean anything to him, and it shouldn’t mean anything to you.

A knock at the front door broke Libby out of her thoughts. She slipped on a pair of beige heels—she was raised never to greet a guest barefoot—and made her way to the front door.

“Hello?” She opened the door with a smile that died on her lips. “Dad.”

“Hello, Libby.”

Her father towered over her, his physical height nothing compared to the intimidation wrought by his sharp hazel eyes and stern mouth. He wore a sports coat over a white shirt and chinos and, despite the fact that it was sweltering outside, not a drop of perspiration glistened on his skin.

Kirk Harris was ever the cool cucumber, totally in control…even of his sweat glands.

“Please, come in,” she said, her stiff lips struggling to get the words out.

“You haven’t been taking my calls.” He walked past her, looking around the room as though surveying enemy territory.

“I’ve been busy,” she said, letting the door close behind her. “It’s nothing personal.”

“You don’t do anything without purpose, my dear.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“Like I said, I’ve been busy.” She forced herself to appear relaxed. Undaunted.

Shoulders down. No fidgeting. Move slowly as though you have all the time in the world.

Her father sensed fear, so the best thing she could do would be act like everything was peachy. No mean feat, but she’d fooled Paul’s parents with her perfect girlfriend act. A flicker of guilt swept through her, but she shoved it aside.

“How is the…” He swallowed. “Business?”

“Don’t say business like it’s a dirty word, Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m making cocktails, not porn.”

“I heard you’ve got a competitor.”

“All businesses have competitors.” She stood her ground, kept the emotion out of her voice, and maintained eye contact as he’d taught her to do when she needed to deal with a difficult patient.

His gaze swept over the room as if searching for clues that she was failing. “So it hasn’t affected you?”

“I’ve had a few setbacks but nothing I can’t handle.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“When are you going to give up this charade and go back to your studies? You were so close to finishing.” He shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over one arm, picking at some imaginary imperfection in the fabric.

“I’m giving this a shot, Dad. One setback doesn’t mean I’ve failed. I’m not going to run back to med school with my tail between my legs.”

“Don’t be so stubborn. You had everything laid out before you. I could have gotten you into any hospital in the country.”

She turned away from him, trying to control the anger swirling like red mist in front of her eyes. “I’m not going back.”

“How can you throw away everything I’ve done for you? All that expensive schooling, the strings I pulled to get you into the best university in the country.”

Libby glared at him. “I never asked for your help.”

“You’re throwing away a bright future for nothing.”

“A bright future?” She laughed, the humorless sound echoing in the quiet room. “Will it be filled with failed marriages and abandoned children like yours? If so, I don’t want it.”

“I never abandoned you.”

“I’m twenty-five years old, you can stop lying to me now.” Tears pricked the back of her eyelids, much to her disgust.

The angry silence radiated off her father like a toxic fume. “You never wanted for anything growing up. I gave you the best education, the best toys, the best food.”

“What I wanted was a mother and father who could stand to be in the same room and who didn’t bad-mouth each other.”

“Your mother and I divorced years ago, you can’t hold that against me.” He waved his hand, shooing away her concerns as if they were nothing more than an irritating insect.

“No, especially since it’s clear marriage means nothing to you. Speaking of, how is wife number five?”