plate and loaded it with food. Too busy meeting financiers, reporters and event organizers, he hadn’t gotten a chance to eat much during the conference. In fact, since touching down on British soil very late last night, Seb had barely slept, let alone eaten, and had spent the past hour—while waiting for Cassie to show up—pacing the hotel’s courtyard, figuring out how to explain that his girlfriend had stood him up on day frickin’ one.
Not that Michael Adams—his friend, mentor and now his boss—knew this was the first time Seb had met Cassandra Phillips, the British woman his best friend Jimmy had lined up to pose as his girlfriend for the summer.
Seb hated lying to Michael, but, man, he needed this job after that crazy incident in Vegas last month! Now, Seb had six weeks to prove to his sponsors, Strive Sportwear, that he wasn’t the womanizing douche bag the media had made him out to be, and the best way to do that? Work with Michael Adams, Olympic legend and founder of the Get Living campaign—a campaign co-funded by Strive which would provide Seb with many opportunities to show the sports giant he was still their wholesome hero.
But as Mikey needed a family orientated man to represent his family orientated campaign, Seb had told him he had a steady girlfriend. A steady, British girlfriend and that as he’d be spending the summer in England to be with her, he’d be more than happy to step in as a replacement Sports Ambassador following Daniel Jones’s unfortunate accident.
All Seb had needed to implement his plan was a charming and sophisticated woman. Someone who looked good on his arm, was capable of polite dinner conversation and who would then fade into the background when it was time for him to return home and continue with his training.
So enter Cassie Phillips, an Oxford University librarian who Jimmy had worked with last year while on another of his summer study programs. With less than twenty-four hours’ notice, Jimmy had made the introductions via email, but hadn’t been able to send any photos of Cassie. Seb hadn’t felt right about asking her to send a selfie, that would have sounded too shallow—especially after what the media had written about him—so today was the first time Seb had what Cassie looked like.
First impressions?
Very nice.
Cassie was exactly as Jimmy had described; a smooth, chic blond. A demure mixture of Grace Kelly and the Duchess of Cambridge. A real English Rose.
Perfect.
Though for some reason, Seb hadn’t expected her to be so tall.
Or so hungry.
Glancing at the pile of food on Cassie’s plate, Seb scooped up more on to his and grabbed some cutlery.
“There’s a lot we need to discuss,” he told her. Her punctuality, for one. He’d nearly had heart failure at the thought of her not showing up today, not to mention for tomorrow’s inaugural dinner when his position as Sports Ambassador would be officially announced in front of campaign sponsors and the press. “We need to get a few things straight between us.”
“Well, um...” Cassie lowered her voice as her eyes flicked toward the annoying hotel manager who’d been buzzing around all day like a keen servant. “You see, I’m...”
“Look, Jimmy said you might be nervous, and I really hope that’s not why you were late, but seriously, don’t worry.” He gave her his most reassuring smile, totally understanding her anxiety. After all, pretending to be a virtual stranger’s girlfriend wasn’t an everyday occurrence and he was more than a little nervous about this arrangement himself. “From what he’s told me about you, I think you’ll be great and I promise you, I don’t bite.”
“That’s what they all say, but really, I… Where are we going?”
“Outside.” He’d taken her elbow and guided her to the hotel’s small courtyard. “I need to keep out in the fresh air as much as possible before my jet lag kicks in.” Seb kept his smile firmly in place. He also needed the privacy. If this arrangement was going to work, Cassie needed to understand the importance of discretion and he didn’t trust the hotel staff not to listen in.
“Please, take a seat.” Seb placed his plate on a small bistro style table and pulled a chair out for her, eager to set out his terms. He didn’t have long before Michael and the campaign manager, the formidable Brenda Ellis, finished their meeting and he wanted to fully brief Cassie before she met them. “First and foremost, this deal between us is a job.”
Cassie’s head shot up. “A job?” Then her eyes narrowed as her gaze shot to his groin. “What kind of job exactly?”
“Not that kind. That’s the first thing to get absolutely clear.” Seb sat opposite and locked eyes with her, deadly serious. “Despite what’s been written about me recently, I have never, ever paid for a woman’s company and what’s more, I have never needed to. Until now.”
Cassie’s brow creased again, looking like she didn’t believe him one bit.
Seb rolled his eyes. “Those reports were full of lies, blown out of all proportion by my mother’s opposers, so let’s step away from the bullshit politics for now and focus instead on what I’m doing here in England.” He paused while a man and a woman carrying coffees sat at the table next to theirs. Awesome. If Cassie had answered her phone earlier when he’d tried—numerous times—to speak to her, he could have gone through all this in privacy. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Forget all the crap you may have read about me. I’m here to help Michael out, okay?” And win back a place in Strive’s good books. “Mikey needs me to make this summer’s campaign a success and that’s where our arrangement comes in. All I need you to do is be my date to the events Daniel Jones was due to attend with his fiancée.”
Cassie leaned back in her chair. “So this isn’t some dodgy sex thing? It’s a real job?”
“It sure is a real job and let neither of us forget it.”
“And it has real payment? With money as opposed to”—her gaze shot to his groin again—“other benefits?”
“Absolutely. You got my email, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yeah, of course. I got it.” She waved her fork casually in the air. “I’m just checking.”
Taking a forkful of his potato salad, Seb studied her as he ate. There was something odd about this woman, but Jimmy had assured him Cassie was “sweet, reliable, and honest”.
“Your contractual title is Personal Assistant and you’ll be paid weekly.” Seb reached into his inside pocket for the salary form he’d printed off before leaving home and pushed it toward her. “You’ll need to fill out your personal details as well as your banking information. My accountant will process the payment. Did you print off and sign the contract and non-disclosure agreement I emailed you?”
“The contract?” Cassie paused eating, eyeing the salary form between them. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I forgot to bring it with me.”
“That’s okay, I have a spare copy in my room.”
“Wonderful.”
But there was something in her tone that made him think it wasn’t. “Any problems with the contract?”
Cassie pushed food around her plate. “Only that it’s very... conventional.”
“Exactly how I like it. It’s good to have everything in order, don’t you think?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m just surprised there’s a conventional contract for such an unconventional job.”
Seb watched her carefully. Conventional. Formal. Official. Huh. That’s how all his past girlfriends had described him in their It’s-Not-You-It’s-Me break-up monologue, which somehow always included a list of his flaws rather than theirs. Janna, his latest ex, had called him a tough nut to crack, which had made him laugh long after she’d shut the door behind her.
A nut? Seriously?
Usually he was a closed book or was surrounded by stone walls. Jeez.
Women were always trying to get him to “open up”, like the reason he wasn’t falling at their feet was because he had some deep, dark secret. Fact was, he liked keeping himself to himself. It was cleaner that way. Controlled. Safer. Open up? And have everything he’d ever said thrown back in his face the next time they argued? No thanks.
But Seb fully accepted that the rate he’d gone through women over the years had earned him that ladies-man rep which hadn’t helped him one bit when the shit hit the fan in Vegas. He’d been easy pickings for scandal and in the aftermath, all he had to do was look at a woman for the gossip mill to work overtime, conjuring up relationships that didn’t exist.
Well, fine. Seb was inventing a relationship all of his own now, one that he could be in complete control of all of the time. One that didn’t require him to open up. One that wasn’t weighed down with emotions and feelings—just nice conventional, formal, official paperwork.
“Even unconventional jobs have contracts,” he said firmly. “So let’s go through those dates I emailed you.”
Seb pulled out his palm-sized leather bound notebook from his inside pocket and opened the page of events he was due to compete in over the summer. They ranged from running races, bike rides and swim-a-thons, each event a day long affair beginning with a meet-the-crowd session and finishing with a prize presentation. A private, formal dinner engagement with event organizers, participants and local officials was scheduled in the evenings.
“Okay. The first event is next Saturday. We’ll need to be in… Weston-Super-Mare. Do you know it?”
“Everyone knows it.”
“Good. I’d like you to be there by 11am. Google Maps tells me that’s an hour south-west of here which means you’ll need to be in Bristol by 9.30am to give you some leeway.”
Seb tapped his pen against the notebook. That was the only problem with Cassie. She lived an hour and a half away in Oxford, and although Seb had spent time yesterday researching the logistics of her travel, he still hadn’t come up with a plan that would be convenient for them both. There would be times when she’d be required to overnight in Bristol due to an early start or late finish, but he hadn’t yet figured out where she’d be staying. His hotel room only had one bed and it wouldn’t look right if his girlfriend slept elsewhere.
“Of course, I’ll pay your fuel expenses,” he continued, promising to work on sleeping arrangements later. “I don’t expect you to fund your own travel even if I am paying you two hundred bucks a date.”
“Two hundred bucks?!” Cassie choked.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Seb held up a hand. “My head is still in Canada. I meant to say pounds. So, tomorrow night is the inaugural dinner. Big sponsors, celebrities and influencers will attend. And so will Michael.”
Cassie’s eyes widened. “Michael Adams?”
“Yes.” Who else? How much of his email had she actually absorbed? “Michael’s wife, Evie, will be there too. We’re on the same table and as Evie is so heavily pregnant, it’ll be good if you could sit with her and bond or something.” Seb leaned in. “Michael and Evie know our relationship is in the early stages—they of course don’t know how early—but rest assured, this arrangement between us isn’t the kissy-kissy, sweet-pumpkin kind, got it?” When she nodded, he continued. “We’ll be having dinner later with them this evening so you’ll get to meet them. Now, let’s go over the rules.”
“There are rules?”
“Of course.” Seb caught the quirk of her lips. Was she making fun of him? He tapped his pen again, giving her the benefit of the doubt as Jimmy’s words repeated in his head; sweet, honest, reliable.
I hope you’re right about her, buddy.
“Firstly. If you’re on time, you’re late. I know today was a casual get-to-know-each-other session, but in future, I’d appreciate it if you were punctual. Secondly, your wardrobe. What you’re wearing now is perfect, but don’t be afraid to go a little more dressy for the formal dinners. You’ll also need to go sporty-casual for some of the day time events but I’m sure Strive can provide you with some gear. And thirdly,” he looked down at his notes, unsure how to best approach the next subject. He tapped the pen against the words he’d written. “PDA.”
“PDA? I don’t know what that is but it sounds painful.”
“It’s got the potential to be just that which is why we need to discuss it.” Seb looked up from his notebook, held her gaze. “Public Displays of Affection.” Surprise flickered in her eyes. He didn’t want this to be any more awkward than it had to be so he ploughed on through. “Occasionally, we’ll need to hold hands and dance and... and... kiss.” He tugged at his collar. “But you’ll notice that Clause 3.2 states we each respect personal boundaries at all times so we should have a code word or something that we use every time some PDA needs to be deployed.”
Cassie sucked in a cheek. “How about ‘Fire in the hole?’”
“That’s cute.” Yep, definitely making fun of him. He shut the notebook. “Any questions?”
“Yeah.” She cocked her head. “Why is a guy like you paying for a woman?”
“Aha! I’m not, remember?” Seb tapped the paperwork between them. “It’s a job and like any other job, I’m paying for a service that gives me exactly what I want, with no complications and zero mess.” He leaned back. “Think of it like a take out. Sure, I can cook, and I’ll have you know I’m pretty good in that department, but afterward? I’m left with a pile of dirty dishes and a whole bunch of pots and pans to scrub.”
“And the clear up takes longer than the eating so you wonder if it’s worth it?”
Seb smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Cassie.”
“Hmmm...” She slid the salary form off the table and looked it over, though he got the impression she wasn’t reading anything. “So what do you know about me?”
“Only what Jimmy has told me.”
“That Jimmy. He’s so... nice. I’d just love to know what he’s been saying.” Cassie smiled and propped her head on her elbows, leaning across the table close enough that he noticed the pale blue flecks of her eyes.
“Jimmy said you were very discreet so I don’t need to remind you that discretion is the number one, most fundamental, rule here. And I certainly don’t need to tell you what the media would make of our arrangement. Above all, any backlash wouldn’t be fair to the Get Living campaign.” And Seb might as well light a match to the Strive contract himself if news that he’d hired a girlfriend ever got out. Though he wasn’t going to reveal this worry to Cassie. “Michael has worked hard for years raising money for worthy causes and I think you’ll agree that his foundation does amazing work. We can’t jeopardize that. At all. Is that understood?”
“Yes, of course.” Cassie placed the salary form back on the table. “So I’m discreet. What else did Jimmy tell you?”
“That you’ve got an English Lit degree, you’ve recently ran your third marathon and now you’re taking the summer off to write and compile a poetry anthology.”
Cassie coughed. “Well, that pretty much sums me up then.”
“But I’ll need to know other details about you. Something personal that a boyfriend might know, like a favorite color or book. Your favorite poet.”
“Wow, that personal?” She blew hair out of her eyes. “So... favorite color is yellow. Favorite book is... well, that’s really hard because there are so many good ones, and as for my favorite poet. Gosh.” She scratched her nose. “That’s really difficult. It sort of depends on what mood I’m in. What about you? Do you have a favorite color or…poet?”
“Blue. And sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t read a poem since high school.”
“Shame.” She flashed him a bright smile. “I’ve got a personal question for you now. Why can’t you attend these events by yourself?”
Seb pushed his plate to the side. “Bottom line? After I’ve taken part in the events, my job is essentially to network at dinner parties and as they’re always full of couples, it’s a lot easier for me to actually do some networking if I’m part of one myself. While the women talk about shoes and clothes, the men can discuss important issues, like business and politics.”
Cassie’s jaw dropped.
“What?” He shrugged, but the disgust and outrage on her face was just too much. He grinned. “Do you honestly think the son of Dr Celeste Clarke would have survived childhood if he were a sexist prick? Come on, let’s take a walk and get to know each other. Just don’t go all bookish on me, my Shakespeare’s a little rusty.”
“I’ll try to contain myself. First, I need to powder my nose.” Cassie pushed back her chair. “I’ll be back in a sec.”