Typically I’m a spontaneous guy—except for when it comes to hockey. Planning is for the stick-up-their-asses type A personalities.

And that’s definitely not me.

Spontaneous people don’t have a Plan A and Plan B. They go with the flow—and hope the flow goes their way.

Why am I telling you this?

You’ll see in a moment.

When I’d contacted Lydia this morning, I didn’t tell her what I needed to ask her. We had hooked up numerous times before, so I assumed she would guess this was another booty call. A long overdue booty call. Was I surprised when she arranged to meet me at the coffee shop instead of her place?

A little.

But not just any coffee shop. This one was in the same building as the love shop—the same brick building where Liam’s and Wes’s offices were.

No, Liam and Wes didn’t work for the same company. Among other interests, Wes ran a successful computer software company. In other words, he had made a shitload of money designing games.

But not just any computer games.

These were used for training purposes for all kinds of situations.

Anyway, back to Lydia. I was sitting at a table near the window, my coffee in front of me. For some reason, my gaze kept shifting to the love store. Which would explain why I hadn’t noticed Lydia enter the coffee shop.

“Hi, Travis,” the familiar female voice said next to me.

I swiveled around and my gaze fell to her stomach. Her very pregnant stomach.

Holy fucking shit.

That wasn’t the only new thing about her. She now wore a diamond ring on her left hand.

Well, that explained why she had suggested this place instead of her apartment.

Lydia sat in the seat across from me where her coffee was waiting.

“I got your favorite,” I said, “but I guess you’re probably not allowed to drink coffee anymore.” Not that I was an expert on the topic.

“Screw that.” She grinned at the cup and picked it up. “Come to Momma. I’ve been dreaming all day about you.”

I assumed she was referring to the coffee and not me.

She took a long sip of the drink, then put it down. “So, as you can tell, there are no more booty calls for me.” She held up her left hand in case I hadn’t noticed the massive diamond.

“Congratulations. When did this all happen?” And more importantly, why couldn’t she have waited another few years before getting hitched and knocked up?

“Well, I’m six months pregnant, and Robert proposed this weekend.”

Six months? Then definitely not mine. Now that I did the mental math, the last time Lydia and I had hooked up was more like eight months ago.

And I guess we all knew what this meant. I was screwed. Fucking. Royally. Screwed. There was no way I would be passing Lydia off as my girlfriend.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.

I gave her the abbreviated version.

She stared at me for a heartbeat, letting the final words sink in.

Then she laughed.

I swear she was laughing so hard, I thought she would go into labor.

“I’m sorry, Travis,” she said, once she’d stopped laughing long enough to speak. “I really am. I would’ve helped you if I was still the woman you used to hook up with.”

Yeah—I already missed that woman. And no, it had nothing to do with the sex.

Well, not much anyway.

“I don’t suppose you know anyone who would be willing to help me?” I asked.

She laughed again and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m the last of my friends who wasn’t married or in a serious relationship. And everyone else I know would probably fall madly in love with your sexy hazel eyes and hot bod, which isn’t what you need.”

Well, doesn’t that just fuck all?

The last thing I wanted was to go through the hell of breaking up with someone else. I’d rather have my eyeballs plucked out of my head and used as hockey pucks than break up with a chick.

Call me a coward if you must. But seriously, breaking up with a woman was hell. Don’t believe me? Ask any guy.

The only guys who enjoyed it were masochists. And trust me, you were better off without them anyway.

Now that Lydia and I had gotten that out of the way, we caught up with what had been happening since we last saw each other. Eventually she had to leave. As I was about to walk out with her, my phone rang and Granny’s number flashed on the screen.

Lydia waved bye and kept going as I answered my phone.

“So what did you think of Candace?” Granny immediately asked. “Isn’t she um…friendly?”

That noise? It was me choking back a laugh. Yes, Candace was very friendly—as my cock could attest. Somehow she had managed to reach under the table during dinner last night and casually stroke my package. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had accidentally dropped her fork on the floor, climbed under the table to retrieve it, and given me a blowjob while she was down there.

Normally I was a huge fan of blowjobs. Huge, huge fan. But getting one while sitting at the same table as Granny did not a turn-on make.

So, how did one explain to Granny that Candace was a puck bunny?

One didn’t.

Granny didn’t need to know that her friend’s granddaughter was only interested in fucking me.

“Sorry, she’s not my type.”

The sound of a disappointed sigh vibrated through the phone. “No one ever seems to be your type, Travis.”

Not true.

“Are you…are you gay?” she asked. Good thing she hadn’t said it while I was drinking my coffee.

“Because there’s nothing wrong with that if you are,” she hurriedly added. “This is San Francisco after all.”

I know what you’re thinking. Since I didn’t have anyone lined up for the role of fake girlfriend, maybe I should go with the “yes, I’m gay” theory.

Except that idea wouldn’t work either. The last thing I needed was to round up a guy to pretend to be my gay boyfriend. But if I didn’t, Granny would be searching to find me a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend. And I wouldn’t put it past her to then hunt for a surrogate mother to help fake boyfriend and me give Granny her much-desired great-grandchild.

Which left me back at square one: in need of a fake girlfriend.

“I’m as straight as they come, Granny. Look, I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting up with Wes. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Say hi to him for me. Say, he’s not still single, is he?”

Now, did I throw my friend under the bus, so to speak, or cut him a break?

“No, he’s still single.” And the bus it was. Maybe she would give up on me and decide to find him a girlfriend instead.

Good point. Even if she could find him a girlfriend and they had lots of cute babies, it wouldn’t be good enough for Granny. Then she would be even more determined to get me hitched.

I ended the call as I strolled out the door…and right into the woman who had haunted my dreams last night.

Don’t get excited. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. We had sex. Lots of it.

But unlike in my dreams, the curly redhead wasn’t smiling seductively at me while riding my cock.

Her gaze dropped to my lips for a heartbeat, and her teeth momentarily dug into her lower lip. The lower lip I wouldn’t have minded sucking on.

Remember what I said about me being spontaneous? Good. Because hopefully what I said next will make sense.

I gave her my best charming smile. “Just the person I need to talk to.”

Yes, I was aware that some of the scariest serial killers of all time had charming smiles. If I was lucky, that wouldn’t be the first or second thought to cross her mind at the sight of mine. “My grandmother came into your store yesterday.”

She nodded. “I remember her. She seems like a sweet woman.”

“She is. But she’s determined that I find a woman and fall in love.”

“And you’re too good for that?”

I snorted. “Not too good at all. But the last thing I have time for is a girlfriend. I don’t want to break my grandmother’s heart. I just want her to be happy.” I know, low blow—because what girl wishes to break the heart of an old woman? But low blow or not, it was all true. “I thought if I had a fake girlfriend, I could spare my sweet grandmother from wishing for something that will never happen.”

Emma shrugged. “So what does that have to do with me?”

“I thought you could be my fake girlfriend.”

The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought back a smile.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” I asked.

“No, it just means you’re insane. I’m not interested in being someone’s fake girlfriend.” She pushed past me and walked to the counter.

And being the desperate idiot that I was, I joined her at the end of the line. “Is there any particular reason why not?” I asked.

“Because unlike you, I don’t have commitment issues.”

“You don’t even know me. What makes you think I have commitment issues? And what does that have to do with anything?”

She laughed what had to be the sexiest sound I’d heard in a while. My cock twitched in agreement.

“I know your type,” she said, facing forward.

I felt my mouth shift into a smirk. “And what type is that?”

“You’re a good-looking guy who doesn’t care whose heart you break. I bet you’ve hooked up with girls who would be amazing girlfriends, but you’re too chicken to commit. And I bet you’ve broken some hearts because of that.”

What was I supposed to say to that?

Other than, “I’ll pay you.”

She didn’t bother to turn around. “Trust me, there’s nothing you can give me that will change my mind.”

“Really, nothing?”

This time she did turn to face me. “That’s right. Nothing. Now run along. I’ve got more important things to do than stand here talking to you.” She waved me off, but her hand accidentally brushed against my chest—and a warm sensation zinged through me from the spot. Weird. That was new.

But new or not, it was obvious I was getting nowhere with her. I would’ve had better luck asking a nun to help me out.

“Next,” the blonde behind the counter said, smiling at her. “Hey, Emma, the usual?”

I didn’t stick around to hear if she wanted her regular or not. I left the store and headed up the courtyard stairs to the second level.

Shit. Where the hell am I going to find a fake girlfriend?

But more importantly, how was I going to stop wishing that Emma would agree to take on the role? And why the heck did I even care that she thought I was good-looking?