Romance for Cynics

And then she made a sound, a soft, seductive sigh that shot straight to his groin.

He wrenched his mouth from hers and stared in fascination at the woman who would be his girlfriend for a week.

Looked like faking it for the cameras with Lucy wouldn’t be such a hardship after all.

‘What was that all about?’ She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, as if she couldn’t stand the thought of boy cooties.

‘Seeing if we’d be compatible.’

She didn’t like his smug, trite answer, her big brown eyes sparking caramel fire. ‘Don’t you dare do that again—’

‘Can’t promise that, considering we’ll be hamming up the romance in front of the cameras.’

‘Cameras?’

His grin widened. ‘The firm who’s doing me a favour, GR8 4U Public Relations, are filming the couples involved, posting snippets on the firm’s website for voting, and the most voted couple raises the most funds for charity.’

‘We’re being filmed?’ Horror darkened her eyes as she waved her hand between them. ‘So you and I will need to...I mean, we’ll have to act all lovey-dovey...bloody hell.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not expecting to win the thing. Just being in the competition is going to provide all the positive publicity I need to stave off any damage that woman can possibly inflict.’

She cocked her head to one side, studying him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Anything for my girlfriend.’

With an exasperated sigh, she ignored his wink. ‘What if people don’t buy our charade? Will you screw me over?’

After that surprisingly sizzling kiss, Cash wished Lucy wouldn’t allude to him screwing her over anything.

He shook his head. ‘Whatever the result of the Valentine’s Day competition, you’ll get your chance to tackle this garden and get your money.’

Her nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled something nasty. ‘Valentine’s Day?’

He could understand her dislike for the ridiculous day that made flower vendors a lot of money and idiots out of any self-respecting guy. ‘We attend a week of romantic functions in the lead-up to Valentine’s Day, where the winner is announced at a formal ball.’

‘This just gets better and better,’ she muttered, frown lines appearing between her brows. ‘Valentine’s Day blows.’

Damn. Cash would have to add blow alongside screwed as words Lucy should never utter around him.

‘Couldn’t agree more. Valentine’s Day is overcommercialised crap for schmucks, but it’s what we’ll sign up for.’

‘Just shoot me now,’ she said, looking so woeful he couldn’t help but smile.

‘Don’t all women dream of hearts and flowers and verbose declarations of love skywritten in fireworks until death us do part?’

She stiffened and squared her shoulders. ‘Not this one.’

‘Go on, admit it. You want a happily ever after as much as the next girl.’ She had such an untouchable quality, he couldn’t resist teasing her.

But he wasn’t expecting to see genuine hurt in her expressive eyes. Hurt he didn’t want to be responsible for.

‘Hey, I was kidding...’ He reached out to touch her hand and she snatched it away.

‘Forget it.’ She stood so abruptly the chair scraped loudly against the patio tiles. ‘I’ll start drawing up plans for the garden and get an itemised quote to you by the weekend.’

‘Sure.’ He should be rapt she’d agreed to his outlandish suggestion to pose as his girlfriend. So why the guilty niggle that he’d pushed her into doing something she’d rather not? ‘We’ll need to meet to go over our dating story, to strategise, stuff like that. How about dinner tomorrow?’

He deliberately chose a date-like rendezvous, to see if she lightened up enough to pull off this charade. Because the last thing he needed was for people to realise they weren’t really a couple and he was doing this for the PR.

‘Dinner?’ She made it sound as if he’d invited her to leap into the Yarra River naked on a frigid winter’s day.

‘That’s what couples do,’ he said, his emphasis not lost when acceptance downturned her mouth.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ She visibly brightened. ‘But I get to choose the place.’

Was it a power thing? Did Lucy need to feel in control and that was what her funk was about? Fine. Frankly, he didn’t care where they ate as long as they put in a good show for the competition and he didn’t lose his clients and his business.

‘Not a problem. Text me the details.’

‘Done.’

She waved and almost ran down the steps in her haste to escape. How they were going to pull off togetherness for the cameras he’d never know.

As he gathered papers and flipped his laptop shut she called out, ‘Cash?’

He glanced up, surprised by the mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘Yeah?’

‘Tomorrow night? Hope you like it spicy.’

With a jaunty half-salute she was gone, leaving him confused by her hot and cold act and looking forward to tomorrow night more than was good for him.

* * *

That evening, Lucy picked up a half-garlic, half-ham-and-pineapple pizza on the way to supper with Gram. She hoped their favourite comfort food would do just that: provide comfort when she told Gram how she was obtaining the money to save her house.

Gram wouldn’t be impressed. The last of the great romantics, Gram believed everyone deserved a lifetime of love. It had taken her six months after the initial separation to stop asking Lucy if there was any chance of reconciliation with Adrian; and the only reason she’d ceased badgering was because Lucy had finally told her the truth. That Adrian was a serial philanderer with a penchant for spending his considerable wealth buying the affection of women other than his wife.

Gram had never mentioned his name again, which suited Lucy just fine. For while the hurt had faded following the discovery of Adrian’s indiscretions, the shame hadn’t. She’d been seduced by his world, had fallen for the glitz and glamour his wealth provided as much as she’d fallen for him. The designer clothes, the flashy car, the whirlwind of parties. She’d loved it all.

Their marriage had seemed effortless, almost too good to be true. Which figured, considering that it was.

So it wasn’t any great surprise she’d shut herself off from that world when it fell apart. She’d sold off her designer gear, ditched the fancy haircuts and make-up, and found solace in gardening.

She liked dirt trickling through her fingers. She liked the solitude. She liked the small of damp earth and freshly cut grass. There was an inherent honesty in being so close with nature, a comfort she hadn’t found elsewhere.

Gram had understood, had fostered her love for the outdoors and Adrian soon became a distant memory. But Gram’s romantic nature couldn’t be suppressed and she occasionally probed for news of Lucy’s dates, or ‘possibilities’ as Gram liked to call her infrequent forays into dinner or a movie.

The truth was, Lucy didn’t socialise much. She dated occasionally, laid-back guys she’d met at the mulch supplier or tool shop. Blue-collar guys the exact opposite of Adrian.