“Thank you so much for that summary. Great to know my press team have their finger on the pulse. I think Martin’s actual words were ‘stuck-up, boring automaton’. Apparently, having you emerge from my house has done me a lot more good than harm in the public’s eyes. Anyway, they’ve suggested that you . . . sort of pretend that . . .” He trailed off and bit his lip. It was so sexy I very nearly jumped him. I swore I could feel my ovaries convulse. Then, understanding dawned and my eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Omigod!” I shouted, leaping from my beanbag and pointing an excited finger at him. “You want me to be yourfake fiancée!” I was jumping up and down on the spot now. “Iknewreading all those bad romance novels would pay off one day.”
“Woah, woah, woah!” Barclay said, leaping to his feet with both hands going up in protest, but I was on too much of a roll to notice. “I never said–”
“You’ll buy me a tonne of expensive clothes and other bollocks. I’ll pretend to object ’cause, you know,morals. Er, by the way – spoiler alert – I take the clothes.Allthe clothes. Got me?”
“Dr Murphy, I–”
“Yes! That’s perfect! You’ll call meDr Murphy,” I put on a low voice to emphasise my name, “but then I melt your ice-cold heart. You fall hopelessly in love with me and the wedding goes ahead,for real.”
Barclay groaned, walked over to the high back wooden chair and sat down heavily. It creaked in a rather ominous way as he put his head in his hands.
“Okay, Kira–”
“See!” I jumped on the spot again and pointed at him. “It’s working already.”
“You wouldnotbe myfake fiancée.” I tried not to be offended by how very sure he sounded about that fact. “All I need is for you to go out to a couple of things with me. Be willing to let the press think that we’re an item. Take the pressure off Henry, cover up the reasons you were there in the first place, and boost my boring, heartless robot reputation.”
I launched myself onto the beanbag in front of him to lie on my stomach with my head in my hands, inches from Barclay’s knees. “Hmph, you’re a bit of a fun sponge, aren’t you? Not even a teeny, tiny little diamond for my left ring finger?”
“No engagement, real or fake,” he said, rubbing his temples. I frowned. He was starting to look stressed again.
“Hey, hey. Chill your beans. I was just joking. Of course I’ll pretend to be doing the dirty tango with you. No problem.”
“I didn’t mean . . .” he broke off as he glanced at my smiling face and rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth tipping up in a small smile. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”
“I never tease about the dirty tango, baby,” I said in my best low, sexy voice, throwing out a wink and tilting my head to the side. Libby had informed me that mybest low sexy voicecame across as more chronic laryngitis than sex appeal, but what did she know?
Barclay pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath in and out. “So, you’ll do it?”
“You betcha, big man,” I said. “I’m all for protecting Henry and I’m defo all in for boosting your political career. You’re the best thing to have happened to the Conservatives for ages. What you’re doing for renewable energy butters my bagel, big time. Would I prefer literally any other party to be in power? Yes. Is that gonna happen? No way. So you’re the best chance we have.”
He stared at me. “You might want to keep the fact you’d preferliterally any other partyover the Tory party, to yourself.”
I shrugged and gave him an unrepentant smile. “What can I say? Your party sucks, big guy. By the way I have some conditions – you meditate every day and sleep for a minimum of seven hours.”
“I don’tmeditate, and what the bloody hell has my sleep go to do with you?”
“Well . . .” I flipped over so I was lying on my back across the beanbag with my head hanging off the end and my upside-down face looking across at Barclay. “If you want to be my pretend luuuveeer,” I drew out the word and rolled the ‘r’ whilst giving him another little wink. “Then you’ll have to agree to my conditions.”
“You won’t be my pretend lover, and has anyone ever told you that you winkwaytoo much?”
“Ohreally?” I raised one eyebrow. “WhatwillI be then? If you’re proposing therealthing, then can I suggest some stretches before we hit go time? You’ll do yourself some damage otherwise. I amveryflexible in bed.”
“Jesus,” Barclay stood up from the chair as his face flooded with more colour. “Look, can you just agree to meet me this Friday? It’s the Conservative Party annual Black and White fundraising ball.”
My eyes went wide and I flipped the right way up. “Awesome,” I whispered. Of course there’d be a posh fundraising event – every good romance had them.
“It’ll be formal.” His eyes flicked over my outfit as he tried and failed to mask a small wince. Even I could admit that I looked a bit out-there today. I’d had to settle on whatever was in the tumble dryer before I went to get food as the rest of my clothes were in my room with Migraine Man. The result was kilt over cycling shorts paired with my favourite jumper, which was unfortunately riddled with holes from over-wear.
“I can do formal,” I told him, tilting my chin up at a stubborn angle.
“Hmm,”
“I can. Although I’d like to point out at this juncture that this is the part of the story where you offer to take me to an exclusive designer boutique and buy me the whole collection on your triple platinum credit card.”
“Feel free to invoice me.”
