“I can’t believe you ended up in the tabloids before me!” Mia was saying on the phone as I got ready for work.

“Trust me, it wasn’t intentional,” I said, my voice muffled as I pulled on my shirt. “And it won’t ever happen again. I promise, you’ll be featured running off to a tropical island with a hot rock star before my name is ever mentioned again.”

“I hope so.” Mia laughed. “Or else, what has my life come to?”

“Pure tragedy.”

There was a pause.

“So I saw your little friend yesterday,” Mia said, trying and failing to sound casual.

“My friend?” I wiggled into my skirt and zipped it up.

“Tall, dark, and famous?” she prompted.

“You saw Jax?” My hand froze on my skirt’s clasp, and I grabbed for my phone, taking it off of speaker. “When? How?”

Mia laughed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, missy,” she said. “Calm down. Nothing happened.”

“That’s not—” I stopped, realizing she was teasing me. “Whatever,” I told her. “I don’t care.”

“You’re the worst liar,” she said. “The worst.”

“Fine,” I admitted. “Talk.”

“It was for work,” Mia told me. “The girl who usually does the press junkets for movies was out sick so I had to cover for her. He was doing press for his latest film.”

“Sure, that makes sense,” I said, realizing that he had to be in town for a reason. I assumed that he usually lived in Los Angeles—where all the movie stars lived.

“Anyways, I asked him about you,” Mia said.

“What?” I practically shrieked. “No you didn’t.”

“Of course, I did,” Mia laughed. “And let me just tell you, he does not think very highly of Greg.”

I wasn’t sure why that made me feel good, but it did.

“Why were you talking about Greg?” I wanted to know.

“He brought it up,” Mia told me. “He said that Greg was at the bar. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I forgot,” I said, surprised that it was true. After everything that had happened that night, running into Greg and his new girlfriend Topaz was one of the least interesting things that had occurred.

“Well, it was clear that Jax thinks Greg is a right wanker,” Mia said in a terrible British accent. “And I agreed with him.”

“How was the interview?” I asked.

“It was fine,” she told me. “Not as fine as he is, but you know, that’s a pretty high bar. Because damn girl, he is incredibly good looking.”

“I know,” I admitted with a sigh. “It’s annoying, isn’t it?”

“Very,” she told me. “Especially since he’s such a man-whore.”

“I guess it makes sense,” I said. “If you’re that pretty, why would you waste all that hotness on just one girl?”

There was a knock at my door.

“Someone’s here,” I told Mia. “It’s probably my neighbors. You know, all their sex toys get delivered here?”

“You should keep them,” she responded wickedly. “Finders keepers!”

I laughed and hung up, going to the door. Peering through the peephole, I wasn’t sure I was seeing correctly. I blinked and looked again. Nope, still the same person.

“Jax?” I asked, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

He grinned and held up a jacket. My jacket, which I had left at the bar the other night.

“You forgot this,” he told me.

“How did you find me?” I asked, still in total shock that he was standing outside my door.

And I was standing with wet hair, and my blouse buttons done up wrong.

“Hello, and thank you to you, too,” he said with a wink.

I grabbed my jacket out of his hand, blushing furiously. “Some people might consider this stalking,” I told him, turning away from him before he could see what a mess I was.

“Your address is on the internet,” Jax said, following me into my apartment. “But don’t worry, I’ll have someone take care of that.”

I shot him a look over my shoulder as I struggled to do my buttons up right this time.

“Take care of that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “My agent knows people who can scrub personal information like that from the internet. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I told him, putting on my earrings.

He ignored me. “Your apartment is so small,” he commented, looking around.

I flushed. My one-bed was a shoebox, with barely enough room for a couch and tiny galley kitchen. I kicked the door to my bedroom closed, hiding the mess, and tried not to freak out.

Jax Hawthorne was in my apartment.

Jax Hawthorne was in my apartment, looking like a Greek god.

“It’s New York, and it’s a bargain,” I said instead.

He wandered past me, opening the door I just shut and poking his head into my tiny bedroom.

“This whole place could fit into my hotel bathroom,” he said with a low whistle. “You should come check it out sometime. The Plaza. You’ve heard of it, right? I’m under the name Tom Bond.”

“We’ve all heard of the Plaza, Jax,” I told him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from my unmade bed. “You’re rich and famous. We get it.”

Also, I didn’t like the idea of being that close to a bed with him. It was way, way too tempting. And he was way, way out of my league. That was more than apparent by the strong bicep I felt underneath my palm as I dragged him towards the door.

“I’m just trying to spread my wealth and good fortune around,” he said, allowing himself to be pushed into the hallway.

“I’m doing fine on my own, thanks,” I told him, grabbing the last of my things and closing the door behind me. “And I’m late for work.”

“Right, the dude-bros at the start-up,” he said, following me down the hall.

I was surprised he had remembered. I thought the most interesting part of his evening had been getting those naked texts from that random girl.

“Well, thank you for bringing my jacket over,” I told him as we reached the lobby of my building. “It was great seeing you again.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He grabbed my arm before I could turn away. “I didn’t just come here to give you your jacket. I was just thinking about our pact,” he said, looking adorable and slightly sheepish.

“Our promise?” I blinked.

“The one we made that winter. When we were kids. About getting married if we were still single in our twenties.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Jax—”

“Come on, Penny,” he said, getting down on one knee. “Let’s get married.”

I stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. Was he serious right now?

He quickly got to his feet. “Too much?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh, yeah, just a bit,” I said, trying to hold back my giggles. The whole thing was too surreal to be actually happening. “You’re messing with me. Or we’re on some weird YouTube video show.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Penny, I’m serious.”

No. He couldn’t be. Or maybe Hollywood really had screwed with his mind.

“Jax, I’m not going to marry you,” I told him gently. “That would be crazy.”

“OK, OK,” he admitted. “Maybe marriage is taking it a bit too far too quickly, but hear me out. Be my girlfriend. For a few weeks.”

I was pretty sure I was hallucinating.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” I shook my head. “I haven’t seen you in fifteen years and now you want me to date you? But only temporarily?”

Jax grabbed my hands. “OK, I’m going about this all wrong.” He took a deep breath, his expression turning serious. “So, you might have noticed that I have a bit of a reputation in the press.”

I shot him a look, and he laughed, guiltily.

“Fair enough,” he said. “The point is, I’m up for this really big, really important part and the people involved are worried about that reputation. They say it’s distracting and contrary to the character.”

“But you’re not the character,” I said, confused. “You’re just the actor playing that character.”

“True,” he told me. “But people get invested in these kinds of characters, and the people who play them get put under a microscope. It’s not fair, but that’s the way these things work.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me,” I told him, trying to pull away. “And I really am late for work.”

“I need a girlfriend,” Jax said bluntly. “I need someone to convince the press that I’m in a serious relationship. With a serious girl.”

Oh.

I came down to earth with a bump. Now it all made sense.

“It would only be for a short while,” he told me, his blue eyes beseeching. “Just while I’m filming in the UK. You’d get to spend that time on set with me, getting treated like a star yourself—”

“Jax,” I interrupted him. “I have a job. I can’t just up and leave to go hang out with you in Europe on a movie set.”

Jax didn’t say anything, but I could see the disappointment on his face. I felt bad, but only for a second. The whole thing was ridiculous. Me? Pretend to be Jax Hawthorne’s girlfriend? Ditch my job and go hang out in the English countryside for a couple of weeks? It was insane.

The world didn’t revolve around him. He might have been used to women throwing themselves at his feet to do whatever he pleased, but I had a life of my own.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl,” I told him. “I have to go.”

When I got to work, I was still processing everything that had happened. I wanted to call Mia and tell her about it, but I also wasn’t even sure that it had actually occurred. I knew that once I said it out loud it would sound even crazier than it sounded in my head.

Jax Hawthorne, asking me to fly to England and play his fake girlfriend? Part of me was flattered, that out of all the women he had in his life, he was asking me. It was romantic, and risky, like something out of one of his movies. Except . . .

I sighed. When I replayed the conversation, one thing stuck in my mind. He said he needed a “serious” girl for the job, someone to convince the press he’d reformed from his bad-boy ways.

Serious.

Aka, boring. Normal. Ordinary.

Me.

I knew I wasn’t exactly the most stunning, exciting girl in the world—Greg had made that part crystal clear—but it still stung a little that Jax had jumped to that conclusion too, after spending all of one evening together.

There was nothing wrong with being serious, I told myself, trying not to get insulted. Serious meant I had my head on my shoulders, and wasn’t about to get my heart broken by charming playboys like Jax.

Serious meant I was building a great career, so I wouldn’t have to rely on a man to get by. Serious meant I wasn’t dazzled by Hollywood fame and glamour into making some seriously reckless decisions.

Wow. Serious sounded like a serious buzzkill.

I took the elevator up to the office and hurried to my desk, hoping that no one would notice that I was late. Of course, today was not looking like my lucky day.

The minute I sat down at my desk and switched on my computer, one of my bosses, Chad, popped up outside my cubicle.

“Penny,” he said, resplendent in a mint-green polo shirt, with his blonde hair slicked back. “We’ve been wondering where you were.”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I told him, even though I beat him to work by several hours four out of five days a week. “I’ll make sure I catch up over lunch.”

“Actually, we wanted to talk to you,” he said, gesturing for me to join him.

My stomach clenched. Already, I knew this wasn’t going to be good.

I followed him into his office to find the rest of the founders of the start-up waiting for me. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Penny.” Chad gestured for me to take a seat.

“Glad you could make it,” Thad, one of the other bro-bosses, said, his voice holding more than just a touch of sarcasm.

I didn’t bother to respond. I already had a feeling what was happening.

“Thank you for joining us,” Brad—the third of the three—commented.

Yes, my bosses were called Brad, Chad, and Thad.

No, they didn’t have enough sense of humor between them to find it funny.

“We have some bad news, I’m afraid,” Chad said.

I slumped down in my chair, as if making myself smaller would make it possible for me to avoid the inevitable.

“We’re going to have to let you go,” Thad agreed.

“Your work here has been exemplary,” Brad added. “But as a new company, we’re really looking for someone who can take risks.”

“The way we have,” Chad said.

I stared at them. All three of them were trust-fund kids whose terrible business decisions had nearly destroyed their company several times over, and would have run their company into the ground—if it weren’t for my non-risky financial expertise. But of course, they didn’t care about that. They only cared that I wasn’t down for their Friday-night lap-dance club and sushi trips, or their “so dope” sky-diving team-building trips.

Serious Penny strikes again.

“I see,” I said. “Well, I’m happy to stay on until you’ve found someone who meets those expectations—”

“We’ve already found someone,” Chad told me, brightening. “He’s a friend of ours from school and he has some really great ideas on how to better utilize our finances.”

“Is he called Vlad?” I cracked, but they just stared at me blankly.

I was pretty sure I was in the seventh circle of hell. I had worked my ass off for this company—sticking around only because I had believed there would be room for me to grow—that I would have been given some of the credit for keeping them afloat.

Apparently all I was getting was a kick in the ass on my way out the door.

“OK,” I said slowly. “So, I guess I’ll be going then.” I stood.

“We’re grateful for everything you’ve done for us,” Brad said graciously.

“It would have been nice if you had smiled more,” Thad added unnecessarily. “You look really pretty when you smile.”

I wanted to kick him in the teeth.

“I’ll go pack up my desk,” I said, moving towards the door.

“Danielle will get you your severance package,” Chad told me, standing to hold the door for me. “Thank you again for your hard work.”

And that was it.

Twenty minutes later I was standing on the curb with all of my desk packed into one shitty cardboard box, an insulting severance check tucked into my purse and the past several years of my life blown to hell.

I had thought I was doing the right thing by being careful. By being responsible. And all it had gotten me was a boyfriend who had left me for an Instagram model and an employer who had replaced me with his sky-diving buddy.

My phone buzzed. I didn’t recognize the number, but there was no mistaking who had sent it.

First class round trip tickets to London. Your own suite at the best hotels. Unlimited room service. A shopping allowance. All the tea and crumpets you can eat. Come on, Penny. Be my fake girlfriend. I’ll make it worth your while.

Jax was officially crazy. But hey, at least somebody had some use for my brand of serious.

I sighed and started trudging down the sidewalk towards the bakery around the corner. I knew I needed to make a list and plan the next step in my life, but I would plan better with a donut in my mouth. They were out of my favorite chocolate sprinkles, so I made do with two plain glazed instead. I settled at the counter by the window and dug in, but all the sugar in the world couldn’t make me feel any better.

What was I supposed to do now?

I thought about updating my resume and joining the trawl for jobs and shuddered. I was no good at all the small talk and networking you needed to get a job these days. Give me a test and I’d ace it, make me write a cost-cutting proposal and I’d knock your socks off, but ask me to chit-chat to prove I’m going to fit in with your team and I’ll be left standing there stammering like an idiot. Especially in the tech world, where guys only wanted women around as arm candy or glorified nannies.

Was it too early for another donut?

I pulled out my phone again, ready to scan through my contacts list for any friends or colleagues who might know of an opening. But instead, I found myself reading Jax’s text again.

I’ll make it worth your while . . .

Was it crazy that I was tempted? I’d been pulling long hours and all-nighters for years now without a break, and the idea of being pampered, Hollywood-style, definitely had its appeal. An all-expenses-paid vacation in the English countryside—to Jane Austen country, no less—looked a hell of a lot more enticing than hitting the job market right now.

But that was insane. Posing as Jax’s girlfriend? Nobody would buy that for a minute. And even if they did, it would be playing with fire to put myself in the target for his dangerous charm. We’d have to spend a ton of time together, acting like a couple. Late-night dinners and romantic walks. Maybe even kissing for the cameras . . .

I drifted off into a daydream for a moment, thinking about Jax’s lips . . . His muscular arms… The taut torso I’d seen on the covers of every magazine around . . .

Nope.

I snapped out of it. I didn’t have time to waste on silly daydreams. I needed to get serious about my job hunt if I didn’t want to wind up broke and evicted.

Serious.

There it was again, that annoying whisper in my mind.

Serious Penny, with no job, no boyfriend, and no fun in her life, either.

Serious hadn’t got me very far, I thought regretfully. Maybe, just once, I could do something totally crazy instead.

I paused. I couldn’t, could I?

Impulsively, I got down from the counter and shoved my notes back into my bag. Outside on the street, I stuck two fingers in my mouth and whistled for a cab.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“The Plaza Hotel,” I said, my heart pounding. Fifteen minutes later I was marching myself up to the suite reserved for one Tom Bond.

I stopped outside the door. I wasn’t really going to do this, was I?

Yes. I was.

I knocked, and the door swung open, revealing a surprised-looking Jax.

“I’ll do it,” I told him. “I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”