Page 7 of The Fiancé Hoax
Not me, though. Not her. Not my closest friend’s daughter.
Finally, she collected her things and bustled inside the diner.
“Sorry it took me a few minutes,” she said as she arrived at my table. “I had to drop Lauren off at the bus stop. Then my papers flew across the parking lot outside.”
“I noticed.”
She dropped a fistful of loose papers and her stack of notebooks on the table. Breathless, she collapsed in the booth across from me and pushed the blonde curls out of her face.
“So, can I show you some of my designs?” She shuffled her papers, which seemed to be mock-ups of the clothes she made.
I hid my smile behind my hand. “Your, uh, hair is falling off your head.”
Her hands flew to her head, where her wig was off-kilter. “Oh, God, how embarrassing.” Her big hazel eyes went round, her face bright red.
Fuck, she was adorable. It only made me want her more.
I leaned across the table and spoke in a low voice. “Why don’t you take off that ridiculous wig?”
She froze. Then with a sigh, she removed the mess of blonde frizz and tossed it on the booth beside her.
“Good call,” she said. “That’s much better.” She shook out her real hair and flashed me a smile.
I swallowed, lost in the movement of her rich, silky brown mane. What I’d give to run my hands through that hair, then pull her close…
The waitress appeared, bringing me back to my senses. Get a grip, Cooper.
We each ordered coffee, then she turned her doe eyes back to me.
“How’d you know I’m Marsh’s daughter?” she asked.
“He’s mentioned you. Said you were into fashion or something.” I glanced at her designs. “And the fact that you were sneaking into his party wearing a disguise kind of gave it away.”
She blushed again, looking down at the table. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I pulled at my collar. When did it get so hot in this place?
The waitress brought us the coffee, and Felicity added several packets of cream and sugar to hers.
“So, tell me about your business model.”
She tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear.
“I mostly focus on the creative side of things. By night, I design and sew. I have my sewing machine set up right in the store. By day, I sell the clothes I make.”
“But what about your business plan?”
“Sell as much as I can?” She winced.
I sighed. “What about your profit analysis?”
She blinked. “Um…”
“How do you know how much material to order? How much product to make every month?”
“Oh, that.” She lifted a shoulder. “I wing it. I’m pretty intuitive.”
I nearly choked on my coffee.