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  She collapses on my bed beside me. “I make no promises.”

  Placing my pillow over my head, I groan. “Go away.”

  “No. I want to hear all about your date with Mr. Girlfriend Experience.”

  “He had his driver bring me to the Waldorf, and I was instructed to go up and meet him in his room.”

  “Wow. He wasted no time trying to get you into bed.”

  It’s only natural that she’d draw that conclusion. “The room wasn’t for sex. It was for in-room dining because he can’t take me to a restaurant or any other place where we could be seen together.”

  “Oh. Well, that part of the arrangement sucks, but I guess it goes along with his MO.”

  “I was pissed off about being summoned to a hotel room until he explained why he had me come there.”

  “I assume that you spoke more in-depth about his proposal? What are your thoughts about it now?”

  “We used the time to become better acquainted with one another, and I must admit that I’m leaning toward the idea of saying yes. But having sex with someone I don’t love? I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “You slept with Cameron and look at how much you hate him now.” No truer words have ever been spoken.

  “Valid point.”

  “You’re overthinking this. The guy’s rich and he promises you what could be the best three months of your life. I wish a client would make me an offer like that.”

  Rachel and I look at one another when we hear the knock on our flat’s door.

  “Who the fuck is here this time of morning?” she says.

  She just got home from a date, which is a little worrisome. “Do you think your client followed you home?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s a really nice guy.”

  “Well, you’re presentable and I’m not, so you’re going to the door.” Perfect excuse for me to make her answer the door while I stay in bed.

  “All right but you better come running if I scream.”

  I roll to my side, closing my eyes and snuggling against my pillow. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I could seriously catch some more Zs if Rachel would pipe down and leave me alone.

  My mind is going, drifting into that restful place, until Rachel shouts my name. “Get up. You have to come and see this.”

  Shit. I should have known that she wouldn’t let me go back to sleep. “Okay, but give me a minute.”

  With hair and teeth freshly brushed, I go to the living room and Rachel is all smiles. “Raith brought this by. He said that it was delivered to the office this morning with instructions to be forwarded to you.”

  There’s a huge floral arrangement and basket of fresh fruit, pastries and champagne on the kitchen counter. And a thought occurs to me: no one has ever sent flowers to me before. Ever. How sad is that?

  “Mimosas for breakfast. Can you believe that? And this isn’t cheap champagne. It’s expensive. Very expensive.” Rachel holds out a small white envelope. “Here’s the card, but I think we can already guess who these things are from.”

  You won’t regret saying yes.

  —Hutch

  I rub my thumb over the words and smile, biting my bottom lip in an attempt to suppress my pleasure.

  “Come on, I’m dying to hear what the card says.”

  “Just one line. ‘You won’t regret saying yes. Hutch.’”

  “I don’t know this guy, but I have to agree with him. I don’t think that you’ll regret doing it.” Rachel takes out the bottle of champagne and lifts her brow. “It’s still cold. Shall I pop the top and mix up some mimosas?”

  “Go for it.”

  The cork shoots upward and hits the ceiling. “Well, that old bag upstairs will be bitching about that.”

  “No doubt.” Mrs. Whitten is by far the grumpiest old lady that I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. She’s forever complaining to the landlord about Rachel and me for one reason or another.

  “I’m seeing him again tonight.” I don’t admit it but I’m excited. I like spending time with him.

  “Where is he taking you?”

  “Don’t have a clue.”

  “The whole staying-out-of-the-public-eye thing limits your options.”

  “No kidding.” Hiding. Seems like that will become a hassle after a while.

  “I bet he takes you to a hotel again.”

  “That would be okay. I didn’t mind.” It was a suite, so it didn’t feel a lot different from being in someone’s living room for the first time.

  “You should wear the black Dolce & Gabbana lace shift dress with your strappy Louboutins.”

  “I love that dress.” There’s no telling how much Cora paid for it.

  “You should. You look amazing in it.”

  I feel ultra-sexy in it. “Yeah, I’m wearing it.”

  “And do your hair up in a vintage roll. You look so pretty with it like that.”

  “Ah, thanks.”

  We hold up our mimosas. “What do we toast to?”

  “To your arrangement with Hutch. May it be the best three months of your life.”

  The thought is exciting and terrifying at the same time. “I’ll drink to that.”

  The cosmetics, the hair, the dress, the shoes. I look like someone other than Caitriona Louden.

  I study the petite brunette’s reflection in the mirror and decide that she passes for something she’s never been—elegant and graceful and classy. I don’t just look like another person—I am another person.

  I am Lou.

  The girl looking back at me can pretend all she likes but she’s only different on the outside. Discomfort. Distrust. Doubt. She’s filled to the brim with those emotions, yet she feels overwhelmingly empty inside. And she’s held captive by that void.

  Enough of that, Cait. You’d better get moving before you miss the train. Being late isn’t an option.

  Rachel surveys me when I come into the living room. “Do a spin and let me see all of you.”

  I twirl with the grace of a ballerina despite the high-as-hell heels that I’m wearing. “I look okay?”

  “You look stunning.”

  Rachel is my best friend. It’s her job to say stuff like that. “It’s the dress and shoes.”

  “Hell no, it’s not. It’s all you, and Mr. Maxwell Hutcheson is going to beg you to give him that yes.”

  He can beg all he likes, but I’m not ready to give him an answer.

  “I need to go if I’m going to make the six o’clock train.”

  “Are you going to allow him to pick you up here if this arrangement goes through?”

  “I have no idea. How would you feel about his knowing where we live?”

  “I trust you to make that decision. If you’re all right with his knowing, then I’m okay with it.”

  I can already tell that catching the train to Inamorata’s office for a pickup and drop-off is going to become a hassle. But this is a job and I’m getting paid for it. That’s the only way to look at this.

  Rachel stretches out on the couch and covers herself with our fluffy pink throw blanket. “I’ll be right here binge-watching Game of Thrones while you’re out.”

  “Again?”

  “You know how much I love Jon Snow.” Yes, I certainly do. “Be a doll and text if you’re going to be late or decide to stay the night with him.”

  Is she serious? “You know better than that.”

  “It could happen if things go really well.”

  “I’ll text if I’m running late but you can expect me home; there will be no staying over with him.”

  “Either way, have a great evening.”

  I see the familiar black luxury sedan parked in front of Inamorata as I approach. Shit, I’m breaking one of the first rules that Cora taught me. Never be late. It conveys to the client that his time isn’t important, and these men don’t like to be made to feel like they’re less than the most important thing in your life at the moment. Their egos need to be stroked.

  Hu
tch looks up as I approach the car and gets out. His gaze follows my body, beginning at my feet and ending at my eyes. And then he smiles.

  Damn. Just damn.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “I’m so sorry if I’m late.”

  “You aren’t late. I’m early.”

  I look at my watch and see that I’ve arrived eight minutes earlier than our designated time. “Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to be the reason that you’re waiting for me.”

  “Do you need to go inside or are we free to go?”

  This date has already been approved by Cora. “We can go.”

  I get into the car and slide across the seat, making room for Hutch. “Thank you for the flowers and breakfast basket. It was delicious. And unexpected.”

  “I’m glad that you enjoyed it.”

  “We did. Mimosas are the perfect excuse to have alcohol in the morning.”

  “Aye, they certainly are.”

  I fold my hands over my clutch so that I’m not tempted to fidget.

  “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.” I smooth my hands down my dress. “I hope that my outfit is okay. I wasn’t sure what I should wear since I didn’t know where we were going.”

  “My apologies. I should have told you that I’m taking you to my house.”

  “Oh.” That’s surprising since it seems so important to him to keep me away from the people in his life.

  “Perhaps I should have asked if that’s all right?”

  “No, your house is fine.”

  “I’d like for you to see where we’ll spend the majority of our time. I mean, if you say yes.”

  “That’s very thoughtful.”

  “I’m trying to be mindful of what this must feel like for you. I want you to say yes.”

  I’m surprised to find that Maxwell Hutcheson is so considerate of my feelings. “I can tell. Thank you.”

  Of course, he lives in a home that is more of a castle than a house, complete with the turreted tower. I almost believe that he has brought me here because he knows how much I’d love his renovated castle.

  What can I say? I’m still American at heart, and we have a love for and fascination with the castles of Scotland.

  “Your home is beautiful.”

  “We’re on thirty-two acres so there’s plenty of privacy. And only a mile from Kirkliston. You can get almost anything you need in the village without trekking into Edinburgh, which makes life much easier.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that is convenient. How far are we from Edinburgh?”

  “Twelve miles.”

  We’ve been driving for a while. “It feels much farther.”

  “You can blame it on the traffic. It’s brutal this time in the evening.”

  Hutch gives me a tour of his house and I’m caught off guard when he introduces me to the housekeeper and cook during our walk-through. I thought that I was supposed to remain unseen by everyone within his world.

  “It’s seven. Sonny should have dinner on the table for us.”

  How convenient that must be to have dinner prepared and placed on the table for you each night.

  Hutch leads me into the dining room and pulls out my chair, pushing under me when I sit. “Is this jambalaya?”

  “I asked Sonny to prepare a typical New Orleans dish since it’s probably been a while since you’ve had a taste of home.”

  Another display of thoughtfulness from Hutch. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve had Cajun food.”

  “Sonny has traveled the world learning how to prepare a lot of different cuisines. Cajun wasn’t one of them but I’m confident that he did a great job. He’s a talented chef.”

  “It looks and smells delicious.”

  The Cajun holy trinity: celery, onion, and green pepper. The perfect Cajun seasonings and heat. Chicken, shrimp, and sausage. Tomatoes and rice. It only takes one bite to instantly transport me back to New Orleans. “He nailed it.”

  “I knew that he wouldn’t disappoint. He also recommended pairing it with this light-bodied French Burgundy.”

  I was only sixteen when I left New Orleans. I have no idea what kind of wine complements Cajun food, but this works for me. “His wine choice is perfect.”

  We eat without speaking for several minutes, and then Hutch interrupts the silence. “You’ve had some time to think about my proposal. Is there any part of it that you’d like to discuss?”

  I’d like to discuss every part of it. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “You can ask me anything. Don’t be afraid.”

  I hope that he truly means that. “The sex part. I’m struggling with it.”

  “What part of it bothers you?”

  All of it. “To begin with, you’re a stranger to me.”

  He reaches across the table and places his hand on top of mine. “I won’t feel like a stranger to you for long. You’ll come to know me quickly.”

  He seems so certain but how can he know that for sure? I’m attracted to this man, but I don’t know that I can ever be comfortable enough to have sex with him.

  “This will never be a real relationship, so being with you on an intimate level feels wrong.”

  I wasn’t raised by a mother with the highest of standards, but I was somehow instilled with morals regarding the sexual relationship between a man and woman.

  “It feels wrong because we aren’t well acquainted, but we will be. I’m confident that our relationship will progress to a place of comfort quickly because there are no pretenses between us. Our honesty and known expectations will make everything easier and more relaxed. Our time together will be more satisfying because our only motives are to enjoy each other’s company. There’s zero pressure on either of us to be anything other than what we truly are.”

  No pretenses. No pressure. No pretending. I must admit that I don’t mind that.

  “Are you on birth control?”

  Did he just go there with me? Yep. He sure did.

  Birth control. Is that a conversation that I’m going to have with this man? Am I going to tell him those kinds of intimate details about myself?

  I have to if I’m considering his proposition.

  “I take the pill. I have for years.”

  “I’m not a fan of condoms.”

  “I’m not a fan of the diseases you can catch when you don’t use them.”

  “I’m clean.”

  “So am I.” And I have the documentation to prove it. “But there are two things that I won’t allow you to give me: a disease or a baby.” I’ll never be that stupid.

  “Your birth control pills eliminate the possibility of a baby. Would you be open to the option of having sex without condoms given that I provide you with a physician’s report that I’m disease-free?”

  “My list of sexual partners is a short one—very short—but I’ve never had sex without a condom. Ever. If I say yes to your proposal, that won’t change.”

  One side of his mouth tugs upward. So damn smug. Like he knows something that I don’t. “You can think it over and we’ll revisit this conversation later.”

  We can revisit it as many times as he likes, but I won’t change my mind about not using condoms.

  Casual sex. That’s what this is going to be between us. Can I go through with it? Can I give my body to a man who doesn’t love me?

  I’ve done it before. But of course, I didn’t know it at the time. I thought that Cameron loved me.

  “Sex changes everything between a man and woman. It complicates things. Do you really believe that we’ll do this for three months and then simply walk away from each other without any kind of difficulty?”

  “It won’t be a problem if we go into it with the same expectations and are both aware of how things will end.”

  A built-in expiration date. A daily countdown to the end. Literally.

  Am I really thinking of agreeing to this madness?

  “Are you accepting my proposal?”

  I sha
ke my head. “I need to spend more time with you and become better acquainted before I can make that kind of decision.”

  “What would you like to know about me?”

  Everything. I want to know everything. “Tell me about your family.”

  “My family lives in Glasgow.”

  “Is that where you grew up?”

  “Aye.”

  I thought so. His burr is heavier than what I’m accustomed to hearing.

  “Are your parents still married?”

  “Aye. Still together after thirty-six years of marriage.”

  I can’t imagine what that must feel like. My parents never married, so I have no idea what it’s like to have your mom and dad living in the same house. Hell, I never so much as saw my parents in the same room together. Not once.

  “Do you have siblings?”

  “I have a sister who is three years younger than I am. Sara. She and her husband Adam have two sons. Leo is four and Mason is one. I also have a younger brother, Ian, who is twenty-two. He’ll be starting his final year of study at uni in the fall.”

  “At Edinburgh?”

  “Aye.”

  Ian Hutcheson. The name doesn’t ring a bell but that doesn’t mean anything. “The campus isn’t that large. It’s possible that my path has crossed your brother’s. We could run into each other later down the road since I’ll be returning to school in the fall. Would that cause a problem for you?”

  “Ian will never know about our relationship. I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

  Right. Because I’ll be Hutch’s secret. Unseen and unheard by everyone within his world.

  “What about your late wife’s family? Do you still have contact with them?”

  “Aye, more than I’d like. They hover. Especially Mina’s sisters. Her youngest sister is the worst.”

  “Were they like that before your wife died?”

  “Aye, they stuck their noses into our lives and marriage, giving Mina a lot of unwanted advice.”

  Sounds like she was close to her sisters. “Do you really think that they didn’t know about her affair?”

  “Definitely not. Mina wanted people to believe that our marriage was perfect. She’d have never admitted to infidelity; it would have shattered her flawless image.”