Fake It Till You Bake It(79)

“I see.” Now, he sounded calm. Even looked it. But how could he be?

Oh, God, now embarrassment was starting to claw its way into her heart to sit next to the mortification over her parents’ command. Would he think she’d engineered the invitation and was putting expectations on a brand-new relationship? Yes, they had fun together and had some terrific sex, but they’d been in a fake relationship less than forty-eight hours ago.

Maybe he thought she was already planning a trip down the aisle. Oh, God. Panic sunk its tentacles into her skin and spread like a fast-acting rash. She slapped her hands over her eyes and groaned. “I’m sorry.”

“Am I Sidney Poitier or Ashton Kutcher in this scenario?”

That reaction was enough to make her peep through her fingers. “What?”

“You said guess who’s coming to dinner. I assume that was a reference to one of the versions of that movie.”

She dropped her hands. “Oh, right.”

He pointed at himself. “I mean I don’t think I have pasty white boy energy, but who knows?”

A snort of laughter burst from her chest. He definitely did not have pasty white boy energy. Donovan was all Donovan. Hot and amazing and fine. BD energy all the way. “You’re safe on that point.”

He let out a loud whoosh and dramatically wiped his brow. “Great, but that leaves Mr. Poitier, but everyone involved in this scenario is Black, so I’m not sure that fits either. Although, I do share the same suave debonair flare as the esteemed Mr. Poitier, if I do say so myself.” He stroked his chin.

She laughed. “Of course you say so yourself.” She quieted. “Honestly, you’re not Sidney or Ashton. I’m the black sheep returning home to a skeptical crowd ready and willing to judge my every move and word. It’s gonna be a joyful time, let me tell ya.”

“Why didn’t you say no?”

She brought a hand to her chest in mock shock. “One does not say no to the esteemed Townsend-Matthews parental units. It would never occur to them that one of their offspring or their subordinates would do such a thing.” She rubbed her temples hoping she could conjure up some magical solution if she thought about it long enough. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

He pulled her hands away from her face. “No need to apologize. We’re in this together. We said that from day one. Now that we’re us for real, I mean it even more.”

Jada stared at him. She was in so much trouble. She was starting to fall hard for her not-so-fake boyfriend.





Chapter Twenty-Two


“Ready to do this?” Donovan asked.

They’d arrived at her parents’ house five minutes ago, but Jada had made no attempt to exit his SUV. She’d stared out the window like she’d never seen the Spanish-style house with its stucco roof before. When she didn’t respond, he placed a hand on her knee. “Jada.”

She jumped like she’d been stuck in a trance. She blinked two times. “No, not really. I’m freaking out, but yeah, let’s go.”

She got out of the car without further comment and strode toward the house with quick steps. He caught up with her at the door. “Let’s go over the plan one more time,” she said without looking at him.

“We are dating,” he said by rote. “Fake dating will never enter the conversation. You came into the shop before you went on the show. There were sparks, but you’d committed to the show and didn’t think it could be real, so you went, but because I’m the best thing ever, you couldn’t stop thinking about me while you were on the show, and we reconnected when you came back. We dated in secret until after the finale when we could go public.”

“Perfect.” She raised her hand to knock but stopped before her fist made contact with the wood. “Still freaking out, by the way.”

“I know, but I’m here.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, then nodded. Without further ado, she knocked, and a few seconds later, a woman who looked like an older, more conservative version of Jada answered. Her mother, clearly. Her dark brown hair, lightly streaked with gray, was pulled back into a neat bun. She wore black slacks and a blue lightweight sweater. Nothing obviously fancy, but Donovan recognized quality clothing when he saw it. Her dark eyes, so like her daughter’s, were assessing and missed nothing. “Jada, so happy you could make it. Please come in.”

Donovan placed a hand at the small of Jada’s back and followed her inside. Shit. She was trembling. His hand tightened at her waist. He wished he could draw her into a hug and tell her everything was going to be okay. But her mom was in earshot, and Jada had expressly forbidden any public displays of affection. Her parents were not fans. Still, he couldn’t resist a quick squeeze of her waist.

Jada leaned back against him slightly. “Mom, this is Donovan Dell.”

He held out his right hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Townsend-Matthews.”

She shook his hand in a simple, businesslike gesture and inclined her head in his direction. “Points to you for using my title, but please call me Nina. My husband and other daughter are waiting in the living room.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jada raise her wrist to glance at her watch. He squeezed her waist again. They weren’t late. She could relax on that front. But on other fronts? Well, the jury was still out.