Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“But if they’re watching you,” Evie implores, “we might actually have a honeymoon. A few blissful days of peace.”
“You’re pushing your luck,” Fin grumbles, leaning into a hot reprimanding tone that doesn’t turn me on. If you discount the way my stomach flips, I suppose.
“I know,” Evie replies, all hope and big, pleading eyes.
“Fine.” Fin rolls his eyes dramatically, but it doesn’t hide his amusement.
“Oh, thank you!”
“Wait!” It has felt like watching the friends play table tennis; backhand one way, a volley return. But now it feels like I’ve swallowed the ball. “They’ll realize we aren’t you,” I splutter, as my panic spikes. I can’t stay here, and I can’t spend days hanging out with him. Lying around the pool in my swimsuit, eating dinner together and pretending to be in love. I’ve already thought way too much about him since our closet encounter—and he’ll guess! I mean obviously we won’t need to sleep together, because the resort has villas. Some of them have four bedrooms—two each! But close proximity might mean a slipup. Just look at what happened in that closet!
“No, I don’t think so,” Evie says equably.
“I don’t look a thing like you, and he doesn’t look at all like Mr. Deubel.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Fin drawls.
“I’m just saying you’re fair and . . .” so very hot “. . . and he’s not.” My cheeks begin to burn as I swing to face Evie. “I could never pass for you.”
“But we’re roughly the same build.”
“What?” My eyes dip, then dart to her. Evie is lithe, built on athletic lines, and I’m . . . fluffy. I prefer fluffy. Like a penguin right before their seasonal molt. But as no woman likes to point out her flaws to an audience, I go with “I’ve got to be four inches shorter.” Never mind several inches wider. And then there are my boobs. I have enough boobs for two women. Not four of them or anything, just a lot.
“You could wear heels.”
“And this?” I pull at a lock of hair that has fallen from my no-nonsense bun.
“I have a cathedral-length veil. Besides, women change their hair color all the time.”
“There’s no way I’d be able to squeeze into your dress.”
“Of course you could.”
Does this woman need glasses? But this is all beside the point. The real problem is I can’t be expected to spend days with Fin. Talk about awkward! I glance his way, expecting to find a little support or solidarity, not to find his gaze skating over my curves. The brush of it feels like a seductive caress.
“And even if I can fit into your dress,” I add, though some might call it clutching at straws, “what will you wear for your wedding?”
“I don’t care how I’m dressed. I just want to marry Oliver.”
“She’s got two,” Fin puts in flatly.
“What?” My attention bounces between the pair.
“She’s got two dresses.” He shoots Evie a pointed look. “Couldn’t make your mind up, could you?”
She bends forward with a cackle that she tries to smother with her hands. “It’s extravagant, I know,” she admits, pink cheeked. “But I only intend on doing this once.”
“It’s not too awful,” I find myself offering as I slip into professional-planner mode. “Chinese brides wear up to four dresses over the course of one day.”
“Well, now I don’t feel so wasteful.”
“Could we get back to the matter in hand?” Oliver practically shimmers with frustration.
“Oliver!” Evie chastises, sending me an apologetic glance. “Be nice to Mila before she jumps on the first boat out.”
But could I? Really? Because the more I think about it, the less likely that seems. The idea is crazy, and the experience will be awkward, and spending time with Fin will definitely hit some of my more tender spots. But compared to what I could gain—what that money would do to my life—those fears seem insignificant.
I could think of it as a holiday—a few days lying around the pool, brainstorming a new business plan. Given the collapse of my previous plan and this wedding catastrophe. And they want this. In fact, they’re desperate for my help.
“How long?” I glance up. “Exactly how long do you need me to stay on the island?”
My would-be bride and groom exchange a look, before Evie answers. “Until Friday.”
“Well, I’ll be missed at the office,” I begin. The office also known as my grandmother’s kitchen table. “And this is a busy period for me. Very busy.”
“Of course,” Evie says.
“Which is why we’d pay you fifty thousand—”
This is as far as Oliver gets, as, in a flash of daring, I cut him off.
“A hundred thousand.” I force my chin higher as Fin chuckles and Oliver quirks a haughty brow. “I’ll do it for a hundred thousand. I have appointments that I’ll need to reschedule,” I say, spinning my audacious tale out of thin air. “Potential clients who might not take kindly to such short notice.” I fold my arm across my front, cupping my elbow tight as I press a pondering finger to my lips. The truth is, the instinct to backtrack, to say I’ll take Oliver’s initial offer, is great. “Which, in turn, could ruin their trust in me. And, ultimately, their bookings. That’s potentially a loss of revenue for me.”