Page 9 of The Fiancé Hoax

Her lips parted.

Were we still talking about clothes?

I leaned in a little, focused on her plump, pink mouth. Fuck, I wanted to kiss her.

“Yeah, I can feel it,” I murmured. “Do you want to get out of here?”

She blinked at me, confused.

Damn it. I’d pushed too far.

The buzz of my phone in my pocket startled me. I grabbed it and swiped the screen to answer.

“Yeah?” I snapped, sounding more annoyed than I meant to. “Oh. Hi, Inga.”

I studied Felicity’s face as I listened to the woman on the other end. Felicity looked flustered, and she busied herself with collecting her papers and stacking them neatly.

“Okay, you’re right down the road,” I said to Inga. “Why don’t you come over to Greene’s Diner? The more, the merrier.”

I ended the call and pocketed the phone. Felicity’s lips were tight, and she avoided my eyes.

I ran a hand through my hair. “So, where were we?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I was just leaving.”

“So soon?”

“Yes. You have some nerve, Cooper Pierce. Did you just invite me to go home with you? And you invited Inga, too—who sounds like a Swedish supermodel.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you think I’d agree to a… a threesome?”

Her face was flushed with anger as she gathered her things.

“Felicity—”

“I should’ve known better than to think you’d help my business without wanting anything in return.”

She slid out of the booth and grabbed her stack of sketchbooks and papers. With a huff, she spun on her heels and headed toward the door.

She paused, then returned to the table. “I forgot my wig,” she bit out and snatched up the frizzy mane of blonde hair.

“Wait, Felicity,” I said.

But before she could retort, the front door of the diner flew open. The commotion caught her attention.

Felicity watched as Inga, my middle-aged nanny, entered. Running around her and tearing across the room were two rambunctious little blonde girls.

I rose to my feet, and my two daughters ran into my open arms. Inga hustled to keep up behind them.

“I’m sorry, Cooper,” Inga said as she approached my table. “John said it was urgent. You know I’d normally never do this, but—”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I lifted my younger daughter in my arms. “Go take care of your husband. I’m just glad the movie theater you took the girls to was nearby.”

Felicity watched with her mouth hanging open.

“Oh, Inga, this is Felicity, a local business owner.”

Inga smiled and shook Felicity’s hand. “How do you do, dear?”

“Felicity, this is Inga. My nanny.”