Lib Novel Page 42
“Did they now?” My eyes narrow on him, but instead of squirming in guilt like I expected him to, he flashes me his perfectly white teeth.
Is there anything that’s not perfect about this man?
“Yes. Of course they mentioned my biggest challenge would be to convince you, and I think they were right.”
There’s something in his voice that makes me shiver.
“You’re not joking, are you?” I ask carefully.
“In all these years, have you ever seen me joking, Daisy?”
“I—I suppose not. But this still isn’t possible.”
“Why not?” His voice is calm, in contrast to my insides, which feel like an overinflated balloon on the brink of bursting.
“For a hell of a lot of reasons, Charles!”
“Give me your number one.”
“Forget Jimmy. The media will never believe you fell in love with me.” Not just because he’s The Charles Hawthorne, but because I’m me, someone with crappy luck when it comes to men, who have done nothing but hurt me.
“You think I can’t be a good husband to you?”
All my female organs raise their hands. Okay, not just their hands, they do cartwheels at the word husband.
“Charles, this is not a competition, and I’m definitely not a prize.”
He takes a step closer, and his gaze drops, those smoldering orbs locking on to me and holding me captive. I can’t move, even when he lightly grazes the side of my cheek with his index finger. His eyes, never leaving mine, hypnotize me in their spell.
“You don’t realize how special you are. But I’ll spend every moment proving it to you.” His low voice has a throaty, sexy lilt that seems straight out of a romance novel.
My eyes don’t know where to look, until they decide to settle on his full lips, which look much too pink up close.
“Do you have any more questions about us?”
I nod slowly, still staring at his lips.
“What is it you want to ask, Daisy?”
I feel a flutter in my chest at the way he says my name.
“Do you wear some sort of manly lip color, Charles?” The question slips out, and Charles’ laughter fills the room, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Instead of replying in words, he holds my shivering hand in his and brings it closer to his lips.
My eyes fall closed, and I don’t see the first time Charles Hawthorne kisses me. His soft lips seem to create a direct connection from the back of my hand to the core of my body.
“See for yourself,” he murmurs, and I open my eyes.
My senses return when I find Charles smiling at me, and I immediately take a step back.
Holy freaking crap!
“What the heck was that?”
“You said no one would believe it, but I just showed you that I’m not that bad. And with the way you reacted, I’d say we’d have no problem making everyone believe we’re in love.”
With all the smiling my boss is doing today, he could be compensating for the past four years. And if this is how he’s going to behave, I have zero doubt we’ll make this believable. But what about me? How will I remember that this version of him is just a charade?