Just Desserts

And how gorgeous you are, no matter the color.



“Darling,” he began without thinking.



“My name is Daisy,” she said, firmly. “Use it.”



“Of course, I apologize,” he murmured, his arms aching to hold her.



She gave him an odd look, and he wanted to leave. He was acting like a bumbling, bemused boy.



“Well, now that we got my change in hair color out of the way, would you like to try what I fixed for Zoe and Christian?”



“Of course,” he said, following her to the island in the middle of her kitchen.



She made him a plate, placing bits of this and that on it.



He ate without speaking. The fact that he was in her presence was enough for him. Well, almost. He was a man after all, and he wanted her. He wanted to touch and kiss her, but he couldn’t walk into her apartment and say that, now could he?



“Everyone around here loves chicken salad, and the fruit compote—it’s my great aunt Pearl’s recipe,” she said, describing the food. God, he missed her voice. It sounded as pleasing as ever. She stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.



Nod, he told his head. Fortunately, it listened.



“You haven’t been listening to a thing I said, have you?” She poured a glass of water for him.



“Not really,” he admitted, taking a quick sip. He was parched, he realized. Most likely from nerves. Oh, if his mates could see him now. Anxious over a woman who barely knew he existed in the world.



Her eyes widened, and her cheeks pinkened. “Oh, okay. Um, so what did you think?”



“Honestly?”



“Yes.”



“This menu seems a tad boring. You’ll need to dazzle the guests at my brother’s wedding.”



“So you don’t like anything?” she asked, staring at him in obvious disbelief.



Oh God, he’d hurt her feelings. He’d rather slit his own throat than hurt her. “Well, I—”



She pasted on a smile, much like the one she’d given him before. “Zoe said she wanted traditional southern, and that’s what I made, but if you think the people who come won’t like it, then I can try something different.”



Ah, hell. There had to be a way he could fix this. He glimpsed a plate of sweets and his mouth began to water. “The cupcakes with the light brown icing look promising,” he said, trying to repair the damage.



Wordlessly, she slid the plate in front of him.



He picked up a cupcake and bit into it. Salty and sweet with a hint of savory hit his tongue, and he nearly moaned his appreciation. Sublime. Her cupcakes were sublime in every way. So was she.



“Look, you can’t expect to impress people with such simple fare, though if you fed them these, they’d fall at your feet and worship you.” He blinked at the expression on her face. “What did I say wrong now?”



“Are you kidding me?” Her nose had scrunched up on one side and her brows had crashed together. “I think it’s time for you to leave, and please tell Zoe to come in person next time.”



“No,” he said around the last bite, and then wiped his hand on a cloth napkin decorated with green and silver squares. He might as well make a go of it, even knowing he had less of chance with her than with the Board. At least they were willing to reconsider restoring his position as President.



She crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me?”



“I have a proposition for you.”



“If it involves you taking a really long walk off a really short pier into shark-infested waters, count me in,” she said sweetly.



He fought back a grin. “Bloodthirsty little American.”



“Ever consider it’s people like you that made us bloodthirsty?”



“Hardly.” He brushed an errant crumb off a cuff link. “People adore me.” Well, people who weren’t his brother, his cousin, his mother…or her, apparently. Actually, she adored him when he was conversing with her as Jules.



Jaw working, she looked nearly ready to bludgeon him to death. “You’re demented.”



“Possibly, and in light of what I’m about to propose, certifiably.” Taking another drink of water, he looked straight into Daisy’s eyes. “I’ll pay off your insurance bill if you agree to pretend to be my fiancée for a period of no longer than three months. Then we shall part as friends, with goals met.”



It was perfect, really. He could have the best of both worlds this way, until he found a way to tell her the truth.



Hazel eyes rounded. “Who told you about the bills in the first place? You didn’t seem that shocked when you read the letter.”



“Your Aunt Leah, of course,” he said, grateful the chatty woman had provided him with an airtight alibi.



Daisy crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course she did,” she grumbled.



“Think about it: all you’d have to do is pose as my fiancée for three months, and in return I’ll pay off your insurance bills.”



“What do you get out of it?”



You, he thought, I get to spend time with you. “My position as President of Romanov Industries. I’m here to make nice with the brother, acquire a fiancée, etcetera, so they will vote me back in. I won’t bore you with the details.”



Rounded eyes narrowed. “Try anyway.”



Clever girl. One should always know the specifics, and as he recalled that blustery winter day where she made him promise not to do anything to hurt Rose, she always wanted specifics. “My vice president, Liam Stewart, suggested fabricating a relationship to make me look more…stable. Quite Machiavellian of him, yes?”



“I guess.” She shrugged. “But why?”



Because he’d become reckless after his father’s death by making shady deals with shady people, acting out of character in his personal life by making it public fodder, and worst of all, had for a brief period set out to destroy Romanov Industries from the inside. And he hadn’t told anyone, not even the person that meant the most to him.



So much for the very untouchable golden child of Vladimir Romanov.



“I haven’t been myself for a while, and it wasn’t good for Romanov’s bottom line. We have shareholders to answer to, you know. So, I’m out, until I’ve proven myself to be different or rather the same.



“Whatever. Sometimes, I’m not sure who they want me to be. Hell, I’m not sure who I want to be,” he added in a murmur, gazing off into the distance.



She stroked the sleeve of his suit jacket, bringing his attention back to her. “Bless your heart. I’m sorry about your dad, by the way. Zoe said he’d died in a boating accident a few months ago.”



Her softly spoken words touched him while at the same time made him feel vulnerable. Without a computer or phone between them, he was awkward, something he’d never been in his life. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Anyway, that’s what the Board wants, so that’s what they’ll get.”



“So I’m a means to an end,” she said softly.



No, you are so much more. “As am I. This is mutually beneficial, lo—er Daisy. I need your help with this bloody family business, so be quick about it. I have appointments to keep.”



Chapter Nine



God, were all British men like him? Daisy thought. Arrogant one minute—nervous the next.



No, not all of them, she reminded herself. Jules was charming and funny…and nice. Christian and his cousin, Alexander, were both devoted to their wives, and actually carried on conversations without insults.



So it couldn’t be a family trait.



It had to be because Sebastian had lost his ever-loving mind. Sure she felt bad for him, because he was obviously still suffering over losing his dad in a horrible explosion. She’d felt that way when her momma had died, but at least she had her family and friends to help her get through it.



Still… fake engagement, and she should hurry up, because he had an appointment? She had no idea if this was the way he normally conducted business, but if it were, no wonder the Board voted him out.



“Time’s a-wasting,” he said..



“Go sodder yourself, Your Royal Pain in my Buttliness,” Daisy snapped.



“It’s bugger. Impossible to do to oneself, by the way, but I’d be happy to demonstrate the technique on you,” he said in his English accent that simultaneously annoyed and made her knees weak.



“Part of your fake fiancée package deal?”



His chin dropped and his eyes grew dark. “If you wish.”



“I don’t wish.” Liar, liar, a little voice in her head mocked. Whatever his temperament, her body sure liked him, but no matter what, she wouldn’t act on it, because what kind of woman was into a man like Sebastian Romanov?



“We are agreed then.” He reached for the last cupcake. “Excellent.”



Making a noise that was a cross between a snort and a grunt, she transferred the food he hadn’t eaten to plastic containers and stored them in her refrigerator. “I didn’t say yes.”



There was no way she’d say yes. Then again, maybe she should. After all, the insurance bill was hanging around her neck like an anchor, pulling her down and drowning her. However, making a deal with a man like Sebastian Romanov—aristocratic, arrogant and aggravating as all get out—was akin to dealing with the devil, but his money would solve so much.



Sighing as she closed the refrigerator door, she turned to face him and jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”



Tapping on his very expensive watch, he said, “I need an answer.”



“Right this second?” she asked, stalling for time. She needed time to think, time to hash it out with someone who was reasonable and circumspect…and Jules. She needed to talk to Jules about it. Isabella and Haven, too. Wait, she couldn’t. Bella was out of town and Haven would freak out.



“What are you so worried about?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “I’m not asking you to commit a crime.”



“Just fraud.”



He rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, it’s not fraud. It’s to be paid for services rendered.”



“By lying.”



“It wouldn’t be lying per se. For all intents and purposes, we’d actually be engaged for the duration.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a finger. “To sweeten the pot, I’m willing to pay any and all future insurance bills.”



“If I were to agree, what would being your fiancée require?” she asked, trying to get all her ducks in a row, so when she talked to Jules, he could help her do a pros and cons list. Or tell her to run far, far away.



A confident smile kicked up the corners of his mouth, as if he already had the ring on her finger. “Not much. Be my date at events, and actually go on dates to non-business events, royal get togethers and the like. You know, the usual things couples in love would do with each other.”



Royal get-togethers? Her mind swam at the possibilities while her stomach did flips. No way she’d fit in his life.



“But you’re an earl and I’m not,” she said faintly.



“The title isn’t bestowed upon women.” He grinned. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”



Maybe just a little. “Um, your brother lives here and we’re practically related, remember?”



“Not until you reminded me,” he said with a frown. “Thank you.”



What was so off-putting about being related to her? “Look, I don’t think I’m what you need. You’re like the twenty-first century version of Downton Abbey and I’m a generation removed from the Dukes of Hazzard.”



Confusion filled his icy blue eyes. “The what and what?”



“Oh, forget it.” Jules would have totally gotten her comparison, and as soon as Sebastian left, she would fire off an email to Jules about this entire conversation instead of waiting until their usual time.



Placing a hand on Sebastian’s suit jacket, she tried to explain herself further. “What I’m saying is—we go together like peanut butter and—I don’t know—fish sticks.”



“I don’t eat peanut butter.” Edging closer to her, his suit jacket brushed against her breasts. Dear God, he smelled good.



“Don’t you think people will see right through us?”



His chin lowered a fraction. “I think they’ll like what they see—aristocracy falling madly and completely in love with a commoner. Look at William and Catherine. The press adores them, as do members of the Board.”



“What about sex?” she blurted, her cheeks heating and her hand falling away. “I mean, you don’t expect sex. I mean, you’re not paying me for sex. I don’t have sex for money. Sex is free with me.” She couldn’t stop saying ‘sex’ and there was no one around to duct-tape her mouth shut. “But we’re not a real couple, so our sex would be fake sex.”



His arms came around her then.



She took a step back, hitting the cold front of the fridge. Bracing a palm along each side of her, he dipped his head. Her heart sped up until it beat so hard and fast that she had to take in great gulps of air.



“I prefer the real thing, don’t you?” he asked.



“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding nothing like it usually did. Her gaze fell to his lips, full and totally kissable when they weren’t stretched into a thin line. In fact, right now they were parted and oh so dangerously close. Tempting. “But not with you. I mean, I don’t know you,” she murmured.



“You could get to know me,” he said and her eyes rounded, but she didn’t move.