Page 19 of Hard Deal
“By getting the dirt. Don’t guys brag about that kind of stuff?” She shrugged. “Like how much sex you have?”
Now it was Caleb’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t know what cave troll has given you such a poor opinion of men, but we’re not all knuckle-draggers who boast about the women we sleep with.”
“Women, as in plural?” She raised a brow.
“I never said I was a saint, but I don’t kiss and tell, either.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I get that you seem to think I’m some unabashed fuckboy, but I’m not.”
Imogen’s mouth opened and closed as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. She looked like a goldfish—an adorable, blonde goldfish. “I don’t think you’re a...one of those.”
“Again, you’re a terrible liar,” he said. “And if your future brother-in-law is cheating then why would he tell the whole world about it?”
“He wouldn’t, but you seem to be able to talk to anyone. Give him a few drinks and see what comes out.” She pressed her hands together and shot him the most deadly puppy-dog face he’d ever seen. “Please, Caleb. This is my sister. I don’t want her to marry a cheater. It’ll destroy her.”
He tilted his face to the ceiling. “Fine. But if I go for drinks with Daniel you owe me big-time. Like, the favour to end all favours.”
“Anything.” The second the word popped out of her mouth she mashed her lips together.
Colour him interested. “Anything?”
“Within reason.”
Reason wasn’t something he hung on to around her. And her promise lodged in his mind, making him spin through the list of all he wanted to do with her. To her.
“A date,” he said. “In exchange for the pain and torture of getting your future brother-in-law drunk.”
Her tongue darted out to swipe across her lips, hesitation making her eyes flick back and forth. “Just a date,” she said, eventually. “I’m not sleeping with you for a favour.”
He stuck his hand out and when she accepted it, he pulled her in close. “Just a date. But if the night ends in my bed I won’t be complaining.”
“Keep dreaming,” she said, but her voice wavered.
And that little wager was going to keep him going all week. He wanted Imogen, and now he had the opportunity to show her exactly how much.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IMOGEN WAS PRETTY sure that every romantic comedy Lainey had forced her to watch featured a scene where the female lead stood in front of a mirror, trying to decide on the perfect dress. Imogen didn’t have that problem. She had a dress. Well, the dress.
It was her “date” outfit. A simple black shift which finished on the knee and had cute, fluttery sleeves made of sheer black chiffon. It was Breakfast at Tiffany’s meets Rear Window. And since she almost never made it past the first date, she only needed one dress.
One dress to rule them all. How Tolkien of you.
But the real issue was what should go under the dress.
“If he’s not getting up your skirt then why do you need fancy underwear?” Imogen stared at the options sitting on her bed.
She didn’t own a lot of lingerie, but she kept a few nice pairs “just in case.” Black lace, cream silk with pearl details and, if she was feeling extra confident, va-va-voom red with a cheeky little heart-shaped cut-out at the back. But she wouldn’t be sleeping with Caleb, because his tat-for-tat date would end at midnight. Then poof! Pumpkin time.
Frilly things weren’t necessary. In fact, a pair of ugly beige knickers might be the insurance she needed to fight temptation. If things got out of control she’d only need to think of how badly Caleb would rib her for wearing Bridget Jones–style granny undies on a date.
“Good thinking,” she said to her reflection.
Caleb had insisted on picking her up because, in his words, if they were going on a date then he wanted to do it properly. The sentiment made her smile—it was a little old-fashioned and...unexpected. But now that meant waiting on pins and needles until he arrived. Grabbing her bag, she headed into the living room.
“Oh la la.” Her roommate and friend, Lainey, grinned. “You’re getting your mileage out of that dress.”
“This is the only time I know for sure a first date won’t turn into a second.” She sat on the couch, careful to smooth the fabric so it wouldn’t wrinkle.
“Is that why you won’t let me do your hair?” Lainey pouted. “You won’t be able to take advantage of my skills for much longer.”