Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1)(36)

Other than being a robot, of course.

But damn it, he wasn’t a robot. Not at all. He seemed like one at work—and he’d certainly been back to his old robotic self this morning. But underneath it all, there was a lot more to Shepherd Calloway than met the eye.

Which, when I thought about it, made him an even better candidate to be their sperm donor.

It was probably a good thing this hadn’t been a mimosa or martini lunch. I managed to get through the meal without blurting out anything about living with Shepherd, pretending to be his girlfriend, or the fake-fiancée mess I’d gotten myself into.

After saying goodbye to Annie, I took my time walking back to my office, the folder with the donor contract tucked beneath my arm. I still had no idea how I was going to ask Shepherd. Or if I really could. When he’d asked me to pose as his girlfriend, it had seemed like the perfect lead-in. I’d do him this very large favor. He could at least consider doing me this favor in return. Even if he ultimately said no, at least I’d have tried. I wasn’t going to insist or guilt him into it. It was a business deal. He dealt with those every day. He could determine if the terms were favorable and make his decision from there.

But I still hated the idea of even asking. Now more than ever.

I shuffled back to my desk, absent the usual spring in my step. Steve gave me a sympathetic smile, but didn’t have any more cat-themed suggestions for dealing with stress. I put the folder away in my desk drawer and sat down, telling myself I needed to focus on work. Not on the fact that Shepherd was mad at me, or how I was ever going to broach the subject of him donating his sperm to make my sister’s baby dreams come true.

Shepherd’s office door opened behind me and I almost jumped out of my chair. My back clenched as his footsteps approached. He was going to walk right by and not even look at me. I just knew it.

Although, what would be wrong with that? For three years, he’d walked by this desk numerous times a day without glancing at me. He’d never been friendly, and I hadn’t expected him to be. Our working relationship had been simple and routine, and there had been nothing wrong with it.

But nothing was the same anymore. I was a big, swirling mess of feelings, and I had no idea what to do about it.

To my enormous shock, he didn’t walk by. He stopped, the smooth lines of his expensive suit in my peripheral vision. I froze, my palms planted on my desk, my heart racing. I couldn’t make myself look up.

“Everly?” His voice was deceptively soft, lacking the edge that usually told me he was frustrated or impatient.

I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his. That was a terrible idea. Those eyes. That jaw. That spot in his cheek where a dimple puckered if he smiled. I could almost see the little indent now, as if at any moment, his serious mask would melt away and he’d smile at me.

“Yes?” I managed to choke out.

“Come with me.”

I cast a nervous glance at Steve. He looked stricken, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. He watched me get up, staring as if I were being led to my execution.

Unsure as to where we were going, or why, I snatched up my purse and followed Shepherd to the elevator. It felt as if all eyes were on me as we walked down the hallway. I held my purse close to my body, trying to keep my face neutral. Office gossip spread like wildfire, but I was pretty sure the worst anyone would say was that it looked like I was in trouble. Which, to be fair, I was—just not in the way they’d think.

Plus, Shepherd’s robotic stoicism scared everyone. Any apparent fear on my face wouldn’t be too surprising.

I didn’t ask him where we were going as we rode down the elevator. He didn’t offer any information, either. Just stood next to me, looking deliciously perfect in his suit and tie. That neatly trimmed stubble that would probably feel amazing against my—

God, why was I thinking like that? This fake relationship thing was messing with my head.

He led me to his car and I got in. Silence. We drove to another building and went in the parking garage. It hadn’t registered where we were—what street or what building this was. Were we here for lunch? Should I have told him I’d already eaten? Hadn’t he had a lunch meeting?

I was so absorbed in my thoughts, I blinked in surprise, realizing I was standing at street level in front of a glass door. Shepherd opened it and gestured for me to go inside.

I stepped into a world of soft beige and precisely positioned lighting. The room was lined with dark wood cabinets topped by glass display cases. Well-lit niches in the walls displayed sparkling necklaces, rings, and bracelets. The glass cases glittered with diamonds, gold, and platinum.

Oh my god. We were in Turgeon Raine, one of the best high-end jewelers in Seattle.

“What are we doing here?” I whispered. Which was a silly question. It was obvious what we were doing here. But I couldn’t quite believe it.

Shepherd gently grabbed my elbow and leaned closer, speaking low into my ear. “If we’re engaged, we need to play the part.”

“Shepherd, you don’t have to do this.” I turned so I could meet his eyes. “I was going to talk to your dad tonight and tell him I misspoke. That we aren’t officially engaged and there’s definitely no need for a party.”

His expression was soft as he gazed down at me. “It’s all right. I think this way is better.”

I smiled, relief filling me. We were okay.