He’d sent someone to fetch her. That was… She stifled a prickle of disappointment. This wasn’t a date. It was a business arrangement.
No, it was a celebration. That’s what he’d said. Celebrating her book and helping promote it.Hewasn’t getting any business consideration out of it.
He wasn’t, right?
Not that she’d have objected to that. She’d have preferred a fair exchange. But he’d said it was all about her, and she believed him. What could a hockey star get from fake dating a college instructor turned romance novelist? It would be like Daphne asking for an endorsement from Gemma.
There was no reason Mason would need a publicity boost. Gemma had avoided hockey news since Alan left, but she’d checked the Growlers’ stats to help with tonight’s dinner conversation, and the team was doing well. Ten games into the season with seven wins, two ties, and one loss. They’d won last night.
Shit. Should she have watched last night’s game? She should have at least skimmed a playthrough. She knew Mason had scored a goal, which was unusual, his role being more support, with mostly assists.
She should have watched. Maybe she still had time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MASON
Mason stood on the sidewalk and blew into his hands, fending off the chill. When a silver sedan pulled up, he could just make out Gemma through the smoked glass. With a grin, he threw open the door and hopped in as she quickly stopped a video on her phone. Then she peered up and down the street in confusion.
“We’re picking you up here?” she said. “Aren’t we only a block from the restaurant?”
“I thought we should arrive together. For the cameras.”
“To make people think we actually drove in together?”
There was something in her tone that gave him pause, but only for a second. Then he got a look at her. She’d made good use of those gift cards. Not that she’d needed the help. Gemma always looked good, and if he was being honest, he preferred her usual casual style. But this was for the cameras, and it worked.Damnit worked.
“You look good,” he said. “Really good.”
She muttered something like “I clean up well?” and he wasn’t sure how to answer, so he went with “Did you like the spa?”
She started to reply, and the driver said, “We’re here, sir.”
He opened his door, only to realize he was curbside.
“Hold on,” he said, and strode around to open her door, ignoring the honks of traffic.
When she reached to take her umbrella, he caught it and set it back on the seat.
“You don’t need that,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get it later.” He ushered her onto the sidewalk. “The restaurant is just around the corner.”
“Should we start laughing and talking as if we actually drove here together?” she said.
“Good idea.” He glanced over at her. “Do you want to take off your coat, too? It’ll look better for the photos.”
She hesitated, but then removed the coat and draped it over her arm. He glanced at her dress, which was… wow. He was really glad he’d sent the gift card.
The dress was two layers, the bottom one gold silk and the top one black lace. The silk left little to the imagination, but the lace obscured it just enough that he felt like a preteen boy catching a glimpse of a half-naked woman through curtain sheers. The neckline was a modest scoop, which only accentuated small, firm breasts under the clingy silk. That silk clung the whole way down, over her stomach and tight ass, and then the black lace draped lower to swish around her thighs.
Damn. He could feel himself hardening as he watched her walk in that dress.
He adjusted his sport jacket and told himself not to look at Gemma again. At least, not until after the photos.
He put his hand against her back as they approached the corner. She tensed, and he started to pull his hand away, but thenshe murmured, as if to herself, “Cameras,” and edged closer, letting his hand rest more firmly there. It was the perfect posture. Nothing too possessive. Nothing that screamed they were a couple. Theycouldjust be friends. But if you wanted to read more into it…
He smiled as he turned that corner. At the last second, he realized he shouldn’t look as if he was smiling for the cameras. He needed to be smiling for her, which he actually was. Or smiling because of her. Because Gemma Stanton was walking beside him, wearing a sexy dress—
At a twitch in his trousers, he changed mental tracks fast and leaned down, still smiling, to whisper, “That dress looks amazing on you.”
