His voice lowered, smoky and husky. “Don’t you worry about me convincing people I want you.” He bent his head to whisper in my ear, “I always put a hundred and ten percent into any job.”

Skin burning hot, sensations tingling in places they had no business tingling, I stumbled back from his overwhelming presence.

What the heck was that?

Avoiding his gaze, I nodded. “Uh-huh. Okay. Well. That is comforting to hear.” I pushed past him to the table where the contract sat and quickly signed. “I’ll make copies and have one couriered over for you for your records and then I’ll be in touch when I need you again, which might be soon because Jackson said Fairchild has been asking about—”

“Tinker Bell, you’re rambling.” Rhys cut me off.

He was grinning. Huge. Self-satisfied. Very, very pleased with himself for rattling me.

The big jerk. “If you’re done crowing, I’ll need your number.” I pulled my cell out of the small backpack I had with me and waited.

Rhys gave me his number.

“Okay. I’ve sent you a text so you have my number now. Text me your bank details. I’ll send the payment at the end of the first month.” I slipped my cell back into my backpack along with the contract. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be awaiting your call, boss.”

I sniffed haughtily and moved to stride past him. “That’s an improvement on Tinker Bell.”

Just as I cleared his personal space, I felt a tug on my ponytail and let out a little squawk as my hair tumbled down around my shoulders. Whirling around, I glared at the sight of my ponytail holder dangling from his fingertips. “What the heck?”

He shrugged. “No one would believe I’d date a woman who wears a ponytail other than to work out. You have nice hair.” His gaze looked over said hair. “Why hide it?”

“Because,” I said, snatching the holder back, “I rode my bike here and I need to be able to see, not to be constantly shoving windblown locks out of my eyes. I’m sorry if that interferes with your caveman expectations of what constitutes feminine beauty, but if you get to say the F word, I get to wear my ponytail.” I spun away, my strides furious and stompy.

“You got a lot of rage in you, Tinker Bell,” he called at my back.

I pulled open his office door with one hand and threw up my middle finger with the other. His laughter followed me all the way down the hall.

If we made it through this ruse with me going to prison for assault instead of murder, I’d call it a win.

The guy really pushed my buttons.

And I hadn’t even known I had any.

Six

Rhys

AngryTink: Hey. This is Parker. Parker Brown.

My phone dinged loudly. I fumbled around my bed, finally finding the damn thing under a pillow. Wiping the sleep off my face, I rolled onto my back and read the text that had pulled me out of a pleasant sleep. I smiled. It was just so … Parker. Settling in, I answered her.

RhysThis: Don’t have to tell me who you are. Your number is programmed on my phone. What do you want?

AngryTink: Well, good morning to you too, Happy Pants.

My smile turned into an evil grin. The girl was always going to punch back and make it count.

RhysThis: That’s Mr. Happy Pants. Though, TBH, my pants aren’t too happy at the moment. Want to help me out with that?

AngryTink: Tempting. Truly. But, no.

RhysThis: RU sure? ‘Cuz Happy Pants Rhys is much more agreeable than Sad That He Had to Self-Satisfy Rhys.

AngryTink: Would you please behave?

RhysThis: I’m not the one who mentioned the emotional state of my pants.

AngryTink: ARGH!

A chuckle rumbled in my chest as my thumbs tapped out a response I knew would piss her off more.

RhysThis: Was that even English? Honestly, Ms. Brown, I thought you were educated.

She took a moment to answer. I could picture her, phone in hand, grinding her teeth.

AngryTink: You’re deliberately trying to annoy me, aren’t you?

RhysThis: You’re quick. I’ll give you that.

AngryTink: Mr. Morgan, I’m about ten seconds away from finding an alternate fake boyfriend. A goat on a rope would be a better candidate at this point.

It was cute she thought that was threatening.

RhysThis: Yeah, probably. But the goat doesn’t have a signed contract. I do, Tinker Bell.

AngryTink: [email protected]!!

RhysThis: You’re kind of cute when you talk pirate.

She didn’t answer. Rubbing my chest, I sat up in bed and tried again.

RhysThis: Parker? You there?

RhysThis: Parker?

Hell. Maybe I pushed too far. Or maybe she dropped her phone. Or threw it. She might have thrown it.

RhysThis: You really going to give up that easily?

The phone rang in my hand, startling me. Parker Brown. I guess we were through with texting.

“You missed the sound of my voice, didn’t you?” I asked.

Hers was crisp with irritation. “My thumbs got tired. Would you please behave yourself for a moment, Morgan?”