Chapter Four

Gideon’s ex-classmates were scattered at tables and up at the breakfast buffet getting food and coffee. Everyone moved slowly, tired and hungover. He was most definitely tired. He’d barely slept after Georgia had left. As much as he’d tried to ignore it, the feel of her, the taste of her had been on his mind all night.

She stood in line at the coffee urn, dressed in tiny white shorts and a red halter top—their school colors—the Kenmore Flames. Nostalgia careened from his gut down to his cock. From behind, she looked exactly like she had on game days when she wore the cheerleader outfit where all of his fantasies began. He knew her choice was not unintentional, but he also knew her choice had nothing to do with him.

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean her prize cheerleader ass in those minuscule shorts didn’t rock the fifteen-year-old boy still inside him to his core. His insomnia-hazy head was attuned to the memory of her body succumbing beneath him, and he couldn’t shake it. Tough-as-nails Georgia had been vulnerable—to his cock, to his tongue.

Fuck, he was starting to get hard. But Georgia’s ability to give him a boner didn’t prove anything other than that his testosterone levels were exactly where they should be. He was strong enough, man enough, to do what he needed to do even with her very ample distractions.

“Tired, Georgia?” he asked, indicating the coffee in her hand. He’d never had the balls to just go up to Georgia in front of everyone in high school, but considering she’d been holding his balls less than eight hours ago, he had all the confidence he needed now.

“No.” She barely looked at him. It was a stare and a stance she’d all but perfected at Kenmore High. He might have let her get away with it if he didn’t need something from her. Something far more important than what she’d offered him last night—before she knew who he was, that is.

But he wasn’t here for her body, for their bodies. His attention was all about how she could help him. He didn’t want her, he needed her.

“Let’s get a table,” he said.

Her eyes were knives. “Are you joking?”

“Absolutely not.” He widened his stance so his shadow grayed her features, her taut body, and those should-be-illegal shorts.

She tipped her head back. “I think it’s best if we just act like last night never happened.”

“I’m more than okay with that.” He kept his heartbeat steady. It was hard with her vanilla scent wafting toward him, her blue eyes as dark as uncharted oceans. “But we’re still eating breakfast together.”

“I’m not hungry.” She stared into her coffee cup. “I’m just drinking this and taking off.”

“Well, I am hungry and I hate eating alone.” He gestured to a table.

She glanced around for an escape but traveled back to his gaze when she came up empty.

Seeing his opportunity, he stabbed the blade deeper. “Unless you have someone else to sit with.”

She looked around yet again, searching for someone, for anyone, but she had no choice but to boomerang back to him. The most popular girl in school now knew what it was like to have nowhere to sit in the cafeteria. Oh, how times have changed.

She shrugged, but there was also surrender in her stance. “Fine, but then we’re done.”

She might be wearing the same armor she had in high school, but it was clear it had rusted somewhat. “We’ll see.”

He grabbed some food, and they sat down at one of the white-cloth-covered tables. Georgia took a sip of coffee while he spread butter on a bagel. Even their breakfast noises seemed hostile, irritated slurps and pointed spreads of his knife.

He wondered if it was magnified because of last night, or if their animosity had always been at a ten. They’d never been forced to sit with it before, to stare at it—to be so close that they could tussle, touch.

Not that Georgia had any reason to hate him, per se. She had been the one to make him feel like an asshole for trying to help her, for attempting to be nice to the girl who ate “nice” for breakfast. He hadn’t done anything, other than make her come last night. He supposed the pleasure hadn’t upset her, either. It was once she flicked the light on and shame rained down that her hate had surged to eleven.

“I have a proposition for you.” Gideon began putting on his best business meeting voice. Though for what he was asking of Georgia, he probably needed something more along the lines of car salesman, or hypnotist.

Georgia’s lips pursed before he could continue. “No.”

“You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“I can guess, and no.” Her eyes skittered to the entrance of the ballroom.

Brandon White lumbered in and headed to the buffet. Georgia sat up straighter and pushed her tits out as far as they would go in her halter top, trying to work them like a homing device. Gideon shifted in his seat—fuck if it wasn’t working on him.

“Do you care if Brandon sits with us, too?” She smiled at Brandon’s back like it was telling her how it rescued a hundred puppies from a burning building.

How was he going to get what he wanted from Georgia with Meathead sitting with them? His throat burned. She probably wasn’t going to give him a choice.

No, he wasn’t going to give her a choice. “Yes, I’d rather he didn’t.”

Her widened eyes shifted back to him. “I wasn’t really asking.”

“Then go sit with him.” Gideon flapped his hand dismissively. Screw this. He’d find someone else. He should have known that dealing with Georgia Cahill would be impossible.

Georgia waited as Brandon filled his plate. When he turned toward the tables, she stood up and flailed like she had pom-poms in her hands. He flicked his chin in her direction but ended up taking a seat across the room with Sadie Harper and some of the Shakespeare Squad, the poet kids who used to hang out in the AP English classroom.

Gideon’s surprise at Brandon’s undeniable brush-off was momentarily upstaged by the taste of acid in his mouth. He shouldn’t think of them as the Shakespeare Squad anymore. They were adults now, different people. Surely they didn’t still wear all black and pretend to smoke clove cigarettes. It was like Georgia calling him Gilligan last night. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Guess that problem is solved,” Gideon finally said.

“He must not have seen me.” Georgia’s voice was filled with fluster. “Otherwise, why would he be sitting over there?”

“He also doesn’t know you tried to fuck him last night,” Gideon couldn’t help but quip.

Georgia’s skin flushed as red as her halter top and her lips trembled, but she kept his gaze. “He’s probably not sitting here because of you.”

The Brandon that Gideon knew would have come over here and tossed Gideon onto the floor to take his seat, but why beat a cheerleader when she’s down? Being cruel to her didn’t feel as good as he’d thought it would. In fact, seeing her ruddy face was like a wrench in his chest. A woman in pain was a woman in pain, he supposed, even one who had made it her every chosen elective in high school to inflict pain upon him. That was not what was happening here, however; he knew she was doing whatever she could to protect herself after last night.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he finally replied.

She glanced at him sideways, seemingly thankful for his backup.

“So here’s what I need,” he continued, not giving her a moment to recover from her embarrassment. It was a negotiation tactic. Never give your target a chance to get their footing, always keep them imbalanced.

“I said no.” Perhaps Georgia had read her fair share of negotiation books, too.

He splayed his hands out on the table. “Why don’t you let me ask before you decide?”

“Let me guess,” she said with a frown, “you want to finish what we started last night. That is never going to happen.”

“No, that’s not at all what I want. What happened last night should never happen again. In fact, it shouldn’t have ever happened to begin with.”

The skin of her neck turned even redder than her face. Georgia was not having a great morning.

Gideon cleared his throat. “I need a date for a business dinner I’m attending Monday night.”

She laughed, short and evil, like a knitting needle to his gut. “You think I’d go on a date with you after what you did?”

Apparently she had no trouble being mean to him. That would have to change if she agreed. She would need to be as amenable and sweet as she’d been in the dark. He toyed with the inside of his cheek. He really needed to stop thinking about that—especially if she agreed. “What we both did,” he replied, “though if we’re being accurate, you started—”

“You knew it was me,” she interrupted. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“You seriously thought that ape”—Gideon gestured across the room—“was sensitive enough to touch you exactly how you needed to be touched, taste you exactly how you craved to be tasted, to do everything your body was begging for?”

Georgia worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Was she desperate for him to continue, or desperate for him to stop?

“Sorry,” Gideon said, covering up quickly, “I’m getting off track. It’s not a real date,” he continued, keeping his voice even. “I just need someone beautiful and sophisticated to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Georgia cocked her head, her blond hair falling on her shoulder. “What is this, an eighties movie?”

Gideon smiled despite himself. “No, I’m not trying to get popular in exchange for helping you pass algebra. This is a multimillion-dollar deal in the balance. Real life, not a game.”

Her eyes widened.

It was time to add the cherry on top. “I’d pay you.” If there was one thing he’d learned since he had money surrounding him, it was that offering it could always turn a no to a yes.

“You think you can pay me to…” Her eyes narrowed and she looked down. If the table were invisible, she would have been staring right at his khaki pants, right at his cock.

“I’m not talking about sleeping together. I’m talking about one night where you pretend I’m your boyfriend.”

“How the hell am I supposed to pull that off?”

“Aren’t you an actress?”

She didn’t answer, just lowered her eyes again.

“Or maybe you don’t need money.” Though of course she did—everyone, everyone did. He did. It was why he was even still talking to Georgia.

“I don’t want your money.”

“You know what? Forget it.” Gilligan might keep asking, but Gideon didn’t beg.

Georgia was ignoring him anyway. Her eyes were focused across the room on Brandon. That was what she wanted. Not money. Perhaps that was the key to get her to agree.

He didn’t want to keep pressing, but what other options did he have? He needed to manufacture a truth out of his fucking lie. If he’d just gone on a date with Richard’s daughter, he wouldn’t have to be sitting here, but he couldn’t have. Gilligan might not have anything to show for his life, but Gideon Neill got things on his own merits. He wished last night with Georgia could have been the end, but Kurt was right. Even if his reasons were honorable, he’d gotten them into this. He needed to get them out.

“Maybe there’s a way to make this work for both of us,” he finally said.

“I doubt it.” Her eyes were still on Brandon, but she was listening.

“Meathead used to get pretty jealous when anyone gave you attention in high school.”

Georgia’s gaze moved to his.

He took a deep breath and smiled. “I could be anyone.”

…

“He’s not going to be jealous of you,” Georgia replied, not quite ready to say no again. The word might have come easily, but it brought the same cold chill she sensed last night—an icy trickle when she’d said she thought Gideon was Brandon and his face went gray. “I mean, why would he be jealous?” she continued shakily.

Her question felt hollow, especially when faced with Gideon in the morning light. He truly was gorgeous. More so than she’d even realized drunk and dirty last night. His dark brown hair was slicked up and off his angular face. His black square-rimmed glasses magnified his shadowy green eyes and made him seem even smarter than she knew he was. The navy polo he wore hugged tight over his biceps, and his lips were the palest pink and twitched into a smirk at any opportunity. Add to that, he was about to be a multimillionaire.

She was jealous of him. Brandon would most certainly be.

Gideon was at the precipice of everything he’d hoped to achieve. She had no idea what that felt like, but if his confident swagger was any indication, it was a hell of a lot better than five margaritas and the taste of the wrong man in your mouth.

She should have just stayed in the room with Kim, even with her running into the bathroom and retching every fifteen minutes. But she’d pressed Georgia to go downstairs and spend time with Brandon. Was Gideon’s proposal what it was going to take to make that happen?

Brandon was finally glancing over at her, confusion clouding his face. His eyes seemed to dance around in his head, and his shoulders were tense under his Jets T-shirt. A few choice moves with Gideon could turn that to jealousy easily. Honestly, though, what the hell was Brandon doing sitting with Sadie and her friends?

“Ask me again,” Georgia said, bringing her focus back to Gideon, “and tell me exactly what you need.”

“So you can dismiss”—the lightly bronzed skin of Gideon’s cheeks didn’t show any signs of emotion—“or consider my proposition?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Gideon cuffed his hand on the back of his neck. “Last chance,” he warned.

She urged her chin at him and pressed him to continue.

“You pretend to be my girlfriend at dinner with my investor. One night, that’s it. I’d pay you, but if you don’t want money, we can spend as much time as it takes this weekend to make Brandon jealous.”

Georgia fast-forwarded to the dinner, to having to act like she was in love with Gideon. Could she? Would she? “This is seriously bizarre.”

“More bizarre than being woken up by the head cheerleader with her hand around your cock?”

Georgia smacked the table, the burn matching the heat in her stomach. “No more talking about that. If I agree to this, there is no more of that. You forget it ever happened. You never tell anyone.”

Gideon seemed to roll something around on his tongue. “Gladly.”

“And the time we spend together will not include that, or anything close to it,” she cautioned.

“I can control myself.” His face was composed. “Can you?”

Sweat peppered her clavicle, as if she were melting from the inside out. “I’m not worried about me,” she said, though her body didn’t seem to agree.

Gideon reached his hand across the table toward her. She pulled back as if he were wielding a knife.

“I’m trying to prove I can touch you without needing to touch you.”

She gritted her teeth and allowed Gideon to run his thumb along her chin. His skin was softer than she expected and warmer, too. Her heartbeat ticked up into her throat and heat rolled lower. She tilted her head back.

“Very good,” Gideon said. “Even better, Brandon is looking at us. It’s time to get that Oscar nomination, Georgia.”

She couldn’t control her heartbeat. If anything, Gideon’s green eyes were like traffic lights urging it to rev and speed. Was it because Brandon was staring at them or because her body was responding yet again to being under Gideon’s gaze, under his thumb?

“I’m going to need to be able to touch you like this”—he slid his thumb down to the skin of her throat—“if we’re going to make him jealous.”

Could he feel her pulse?

“Fine,” she managed.

Georgia couldn’t help but think of her mother’s reaction to Gideon’s offer. This would not be what she’d pictured when she imagined her daughter finally finding the love of her life. She swallowed. More like tricking the love of her life.

“And.” Gideon didn’t release his scrutiny and tightened his thumb. “You’re going to need to touch me, too—for Brandon this weekend and at the dinner for my investor.”

Her shorts suddenly felt too short and too tight. She squirmed in her seat. “Fine,” she repeated, even though her cheeks were on fire and her thighs were shaking as fast as her heart was still beating. “Touching in public is fine. But once Brandon is interested, this stops. I’ll go to the stupid dinner, but our time together this weekend is over.”

Gideon freed her chin. “The less time the better, as long as we’re able to get to know each other well enough that you actually appear like my girlfriend.”

“I’ve learned roles in fifteen minutes,” she huffed.

He straightened his glasses. “You’re also going to need to check your attitude.”

“What attitude?” Georgia wanted to roll her eyes. Wanted to see Gideon as the parasite she had in high school, but the way his eyes drank her in, the way the muscles of his chest stiffened and strained under his polo, and the way he smelled like the clearing in a forest was making that hard, blurry.

Last night, she’d shown her vulnerability yet again. He might think she needed to check her attitude, but that helplessness was what she truly had to keep buried. Her need last night had been a mirror of her emotions the day he’d caught her crying about her mom under the bleachers sophomore year. And just like she’d succumbed last night, back then she’d let him reach out and hold her—allowed her tears to stain his shirt.

But when her crying didn’t stop, when she understood there was nothing he or anyone could do, when the look in his eyes had turned to pity, she’d pushed him away and called him a pervert. Told him he would regret having ever touched her. And all through the rest of high school, she’d made good on that promise.

He had been the unlucky one to find her that day, and last night she was the unlucky one who had found him. Showed him once again that she was nothing like the person she portrayed. The actress she lived as before she was an actress.

“Maybe bitchy is your neutral, Georgia, but that’s not going to fly with me anymore.”

“Maybe controlling dick is your neutral,” she shot back, pushing the memories down.

“Controlling, yes.” His lips twisted. “Though my dick is rarely in neutral.”

Georgia tried to fight the fluster weaving its way up from her belly, twining over every bit of her like warm vines. She’d need to hold onto a bit of her attitude to combat that. She couldn’t deny that his forcefulness, as far as she was concerned, was irrationally sexy.

“Since you’re not protesting, it sounds like we have a deal. I pretend to be into you to make Brandon jealous, and you come with me to dinner in the city on Monday and pretend to be into me so my investor can meet my girlfriend.” He opened his hands. “Same action, different goals.”

No matter what Gideon said, it sounded like an eighties movie—the kind where the characters who pretend eventually stop pretending. Thank God her life wasn’t anything close to a movie.

Considering how Brandon had greeted her that morning—or more specifically not greeted her—she didn’t see another way. The equation was simple enough. To get Brandon to notice her, to be hers by the end of the weekend, she needed Gideon. An hour-long dinner seemed a small price to pay for a lifetime of happiness.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Let’s get the ‘getting to know each other’ out of the way right now. Tell me all your nerdy secrets.”

He laughed, his Adams apple bobbing tautly in his throat. “You do know nerds have inherited the earth. It’s cool to be a nerd now.”

She gulped back a sigh. She hadn’t, but wow, her lady-parts were learning.